Page 148 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
Anything to hear her laugh, see her smile like that.
“You look tired too," she says, her expression growing more serious.
“Yeah, I didn’t get any sleep,” I shrug.
“Damn, none at all?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “What about you?”
“Basically the same. I tried, but I was tossing and turning all night.” She glances at my bedroom door and back at me. “Want to go lie down and see if we could help each other sleep? We’re probably not going to be much use to the others if we’re dead tired.”
My heart stalls in my chest, and I swear I have to mentally resurrect myself before it starts beating again. I swallow hard, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat.
“S—sure,” I nod.
She smiles up at me again. Wow, I really would do anything to see her smile at me.
She laces her fingers with mine and leads me back to my bedroom and I follow. I’d follow her to the ends of the Earth.
CHAPTER 32
Reyna
Adding a little sway to my hips as I lead Milo back into his room feels like the most natural thing to do.
I missed my first dose of heat suppressant medication last night, since I gave Charlotte my last two pills.
I didn’t think not taking them would have this effect on me so quickly, but the blood pumping through my veins feels electric. The moment Milo’s gunmetal scent hit me in the hallway, growing thicker with his obvious attraction to me, I was a goner.
There’s no denying it now. The guys of the Graylock Pack are my scent matches.
And apparently, being around them and being off my heat suppressants? It’s making me more turned on than I think I’ve ever been.
Maybe that’s why I wore this to bed. A part of my brain was secretly hoping one of them would come in and check on me, see how I was doing after such a stressful night, see me wearing next to nothing, and rock my world.
But as I glance over my shoulder and look back at Milo’s wide eyes, parted lips, and blown pupils, I’m totally fine being a little proactive.
“You—you’re really pretty,” Milo says softly, when he catches me looking back at him.
That adjective catches me off guard. I’ve been described by men plenty of different ways.
Hot. Sexy. Desirable.
And these are the nicer, more tame ways I’ve been described in the past.
But I like pretty.
Pretty has a nice ring to it.
“You think so?” I ask, my voice betraying the vulnerability I feel.
Milo’s hand drifts down to my waist as we stop at the foot of his bed.
“I know so," he says.
“Well then, I’m glad.”
He glances at the bed awkwardly, a flush of red appearing on his cheeks.
