Page 9 of Stolen Omega

“Home sweet home, at last.” The words rush out of my mouth, sounding like an awkward punchline to a joke I forgot to tell.

Great. We’ve been alone together for less than five minutes, and I’m already so nervous I can’t remember how to human properly.

I can feel his gaze on me, compelling me to make eye-contact.

I’m still holding onto his hand. Letting go is remarkably difficult.

I force myself to wrap my arms around my middle, not quite ready to look up into his eyes.

Damn it, Zey. You’re making this weird.

Forget about admitting feelings.

Just concentrate on acting normal.

Easier said than done. I’m too into him. I want us to be something more than we are, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon. I think he might want the same thing, but it isn’t as simple as being brave enough to admit our feelings out loud.

I’m not free to choose a mate, and I know if we got involved, I would want to choose him.

Reminding myself of that is what it takes to break the hold my nerves have on me.

I gaze up at him, meeting his eyes in the dark room.

It’s impossible to see how vibrant they are with the lights so low.

They look so much darker.

I feel hopelessly lost.

He’s everything I could want, and it doesn’t matter.

Five years ago, I chose music over everything else.

I signed that damned contract without reading it, without caring about what it meant.

All I could imagine needing in that moment was to be the artist I’d always wanted to be.

I’d blinded myself to the control my parents had over me up to that point. It only became obvious after I checked what they’d done to make the contract a way to cage me up.

Russ clears his throat, and I’m not sure how long we’ve been standing here staring at each other, but it’s definitely been way too long for two people who aren’t into each other.

“Would you like me to run you a bath or order dinner?”

It’s a normal question for him to ask me. I’m pretty sure both of those things are outside of his expected duties, but he’s been doing them for so long that it would be strange if he didn’t ask.

Trouble is, all I can think about is how intimate they seem now that I have deeper feelings for him.

That’s because he’s doing those things to take care of me, not because they’re part of the job.

This hotel suite is pure luxury, just like every other suite in every other town on the tour. This is where I’ve lived for a couple weeks now, but he’s only the reason I want to call it home.

He makes me feel so safe. Secure. Relaxed.

Oh, my God …

“You can order dinner!” I blurt out, way too loudly.

Okay, I might still be kind of nervous, despite knowing I can’t make a move on him. Especially now that I’ve worked out exactly why I’m so into him.

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