Page 162 of Claiming the Pack's Omega

“Wow,” I breath out. “Do you live in the gym or something?”

He shrugs, his grin taking on an almost sheepish quality.

“Kind of, yeah. I normally go every day, a couple hours each day.”

“Holy shit, that’s like, a lot of time, right?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Normally it’s the first thing I do when I get back from work, and I work long ass hours sometimes.”

My brows draw down as I glance up at him. “That sounds an awful lot like you’re overworking yourself. I’m sure you don’t need to spend all that time in the gym to have the physique you do. I know alphas who go to the gym for five minutes, maybe once a year, and still looked pretty jacked.”

I can see shadows start to swirl in his deep blue eyes. With his shirt off, I can see clearly the way the muscles in his shoulders start to lock up.

“It’s less because of my physique,” he says. “I... I do a lot of things to try and feel something. After my sister passed away, that’s been a lot easier said than done, you know?”

He glances away, swallowing hard as he lifts a hand to rub at the back of his neck.

“Pain is one of the easier feelings. And I’ve done a lot of stupid shit to feel pain because it was the only thing I could feel.”

“Is—is your tattoo one of those things?”

“You’re observant,” he says with a nod.

“Sorry, I?—”

“No need to apologize, Wildflower. I like that about you,” he says, reaching up and brushing some of my hair away from my face.

I think that amount of time in the chair is both a testament to how detailed the piece on his back actually is and how badly he must’ve wanted to feel something, even if it was pain.

“Is there anything else you’ve done to… you know,” I ask, reaching up to rest my hands on his chest. I can feel his heart pounding in his chest.

A sheepish grin tugs at his lips and he nods.

“Yeah, you’ll get to see it, since we’re showering together.”

“Get to see it?” I lift a brow, my eyes trailing down his body. The only thing he’s wearing right now are his boxer briefs, so whatever he’s hiding has to be underneath…

My eyes go wide as possibilities flit through my brain.

“Holy shit, do you have a piercing?” I whisper-yell at him. I don’t know why I’m whisper yelling, but that seems like the appropriate tone when talking about acock piercing.

“You really are observant,” he chuckles under his breath, grinning down at me.

He then holds up his hand like he wants to high-five me.

“No way, you have five?!” My jaw drops right along with my gaze, straight to the outline of his hard cock that I can see through his boxers.

“Yup,” he nods.

My mouth opens and closes as I struggle to figure out a way to word “lemme see” without sounding weird, but I’d be lying if I said I weren’t curious as hell. I’ve seen a lot of cocks before, but I’ve never seen a pierced one.

“You want to see?” He murmurs, his voice a soft growl.

“I mean,” I say, swallowing hard. “If you’re offering.”

“Oh, I’m offering. I want your eyes on me, even if I look like shit right now?—”

“You don’t look like shit,” I say immediately. “You should knock off whatever wack ass standards you hold yourself to, Stone. You’re fucking hot. You not going to the gym for a few days after beingtorturedisn’t going to change that, got that?”