Page 133 of Pack Plus One

I groan again, bracing myself, but when I open the door, he’s standing there with a small, neatly wrapped package tucked under one arm and an uncharacteristically nervous expression.

“Liam?” I blink, not really sure I’m seeing him right.

“I thought...” He pauses, giving me a slight smile that softens his features in that endearing way he does. “That is,wethought—the pack—that perhaps you might enjoy some... individual interactions.”

I blink at him, warmth blooming in my chest at the fact he’s here, all while trying to think straight so I can parse the formal phrasing. “Are you... asking me on a date?”

The tips of his ears turn pink. “Yes. That’s a more efficient way of stating it.”

A smile tugs at my lips as I lean against the doorframe. “And the others are okay with this?”

“It was actually Caleb’s suggestion,” Liam admits. “We’ve established a rotation.”

Of course they have a system. These ridiculous, wonderful men.

“So you drew the short straw for first date?” I tease.

His eyes meet mine, suddenly intense. “I volunteered.”

The simple statement knocks the breath from my lungs. Since meeting these men, Liam has never pushed forward or tried to claim attention. That he specifically chose to be first sends a warm flutter through my chest.

“Well then,” I say, willing my voice to stay steady despite the butterflies in my stomach. “I’d love to.” I glance down at my old t-shirt and yoga pants. “But I should probably change out of my disaster outfit first.”

Liam’s smile is small but genuine. “Take your time. I’ll wait downstairs.”

Twenty minutes later, after the fastest shower known to omega-kind and throwing on the first decent outfit I could find (dark jeans, a soft sweater, and boots that make me feel put together), I find Liam leaning against their SUV, two to-go coffee cups in hand.

“You look beautiful,” he says simply, handing me one. The warmth in his voice makes my cheeks heat before I can stop myself.

“So where are we—” I start to ask as I buckle in, but he shakes his head with that quiet smile.

“Surprise,” he says, putting the car in gear.

When we pull up to a tiny bookstore tucked between a laundromat and a vintage record shop, I can’t help the smile. “A bookstore?”

Liam’s fingers brush mine as he takes my empty coffee cup. “You’ll see.”

I’m ninety percent sure Liam’s trying to kill me with poetry.

“Skin on skin, a whispered sigh, no words needed, only you and I,” he reads, voice low and steady like he’s explaining a beer fermentation process and not pressing me against the Philosophy shelf. His thumb traces the spine of the book like it’s sacred.

“You brought me to the metaphysics aisle for this?” I whisper. The old beta at the register hasn’t looked up from her crossword in twenty minutes, but still.

Liam’s lips twitch. “Poetry is chemistry. Precision matters.”

“Uh-huh.” I pluck the book from his hands and flip to a random page. “‘A touch, a taste, a burning fire, no need for words, only pure desire.’” I smirk up at him. “That your pick-up line, doc?”

His ears go pink again. “No. That’s—” He exhales sharply when I step closer, my hip brushing his. “Yes,” he admits softly.

I laugh, but it catches in my throat when he cages me against the shelf, one hand braced by my head. His scent wraps around me like a soft embrace, familiar and thrilling all at once.

“For balance,” he murmurs, and kisses me so thoroughly I forget which way is up.

His mouth is careful against mine at first, as if we’re kissing for the first time instead of the dozenth. But there’s something different about this—about being alone with just Liam, about the way his focus narrows to me with such intensity that it makes my knees weak.

His free hand cups my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone with delicate pressure that makes me shiver. When I gasp, he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue meeting mine in a slow, deliberate exploration that has heat pooling low in my belly.

Somewhere in the distance, a book thuds to the floor. The beta clerk finally looks up.