Page 48 of Claiming the Pack’s Omega (Riverwell Omegaverse #2)

Reyna

A dding 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.

“I—I’ve never... You know…”

“Cuddled?”

He shakes his head, his shaggy hair falling in front of his eyes, hiding them from me.

I brush some of it away from his face and grin up at him.

“Well then, we’ll just have to change that. Cuddling is awesome. Big fan.”

I really didn’t get to do it much. Not until Theo started buying my time. There’s just something wonderful about intimacy without the expectation of things leading to something more.

Honestly, the lack of expectation makes me even more hot and bothered than I would’ve been without cuddling.

“Lay down,” I say, when it’s obvious Milo’s not moving a muscle without some sort of guidance. “Get comfortable. Cuddling is supposed to get rid of stress, not stress you out.”

He gives me another jerky nod before setting his laptop down on his nightstand and getting into bed. He lays like he’s a Victorian child who just died of the plague, every muscle in his body locked tight.

I set my phone on top of his laptop and crawl into bed next to him, pressing my body against his and letting my hand drift up his chest.

“Relax,” I murmur. “You’re forgetting to breathe.”

“Can you blame me?" He says, his voice strained.

I hike up my leg so it rests on him and he lets out a strangled groan from the back of his throat. I purposely avoid the hardness I can see growing in his sweats. No need for me to embarrass him even more, even if he is cute as hell.

“So, do you normally pull all-nighters?” I ask, in an attempt to distract him and get him to relax.

“Yeah, pretty often," he says. “I have trouble sleeping, but even if I didn’t, I’m a bit of a night owl. I get my best work done at night.”

“I am, too. Well, I’m a night owl. I don’t think I get my best work done at night, I was just forced to work nights, you know?” I say. “I think it’s really cool that you like the work you do. You’re really passionate.”

“I am," he says, his body finally starting to relax. “What are you passionate about?”

The question makes me freeze.

Damn. Do I really have nothing I’m passionate about?

I’ve spent so much of my life, so much time, so much effort, so much blood, sweat, and tears, into making sure my family is okay that I never really had any time or energy left for myself.

I swallow hard, biting the inside of my cheek as I search for an answer.

“I—I don’t think I’ve had a chance to be,” I say, softly.

“Well, now that you have the chance to figure it out, what would you want to be passionate about?" He asks. The way he says it makes my chest squeeze. He says it so earnestly, like figuring out what I’m passionate about is as simple as doing whatever I want.

But is it that simple?

God, I don’t know.

“I—I think it’d probably have something to do with helping people. My purpose has always been to help my family, but now that they don’t need me anymore, I think I feel a little lost.”

“So do you want to help people because you think that’s what you need to do in order to be valuable or because it’s actually something you want to do?”

Damn.

My head jerks up and off his chest as I turn my head to stare up at him.

That was a really heavy hitting question, God damn.

Milo flashes me a small smile and a little self-deprecating shrug.

“Give a girl some warning before you fire shots like that,” I huff.

“I think it’s an important thing to keep in mind," he murmurs.

“Well then what’s your answer?” I snap.

He pauses for a second, his arm finally coming up to wrap around my lower back. The movement is small, but I definitely notice.

I instantly regret the aggression in my tone.

“I think I’ve always been passionate about computers and technology," he says slowly. “But I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t do it because it’s the one thing I feel like I’m actually good at. The one thing I know other people will need me for.”

Fuck. I really regret my tone now.

My brows draw down and I feel my throat grow tight.

“You—you’re more than what you can do, Milo.”

“It means a lot to hear that, especially coming from you, but it’s probably going to take time for me to actually believe that. Just like it’ll probably take you a long time to realize that you don’t have to do things for people to be worthy either.”

I let my head fall back to his chest, hiding my face from him. I feel so vulnerable right now, I don’t think I could handle seeing the warmth in his amber eyes that looks an awful lot like a four-letter emotion starting with the letter L that I don’t want to think about right now.

God, my mind is racing. It’s going a million miles a minute.

I’m thinking about things I’ve never really had the chance to think about before: my future. What I want from my life.

And it’s making me confront the fact that I’m twenty-four fucking years old and this is the first time in my entire life that I’ve really given it some thought.

That makes me feel pathetic.

But at the same time, I feel like maybe it’s okay that my heart is pounding right now because it’s beating for me.

The close contact with Milo also contributes to my buzzing skin.

“I—I think I do want to help people,” I say slowly. “It just feels right when I say it, you know? But now that I have you and the rest of the pack… maybe I won’t feel like I have to bend over backwards to do so, you know?”

“You won’t be alone anymore,” Milo says, his other hand coming up to brush up against my shoulder. “Never again.”

My heart squeezes and a wave of exhaustion hits me.

“You’re the best, Milo,” I say, stifling a yawn.

“You want to try getting some rest now?”

I tilt my head back to smile up at him. “Yeah.”

Milo tugs up the comforter and tosses it over our bodies. I shift my weight a little bit, settling into a more comfortable position under the covers. Surrounded by his gunmetal scent, I fall asleep nearly instantly.

I wake up from the nap slowly, like a cat lazily basking in the afternoon sun.

Normally, when I wake up, I jolt awake. It’s almost violent. Either because I’m setting a ridiculously annoying song on my phone as an alarm so I actually wake up or because I’m waking up from a nightmare.

Waking up in the arms of one of my scent matches? In the arms of one of the sweetest people, let alone alpha I’ve ever met?

A girl could get used to this.

I turn over in Milo’s arms, putting my back to his front. I can feel his hardness pressing against me through his sweats.

When I reach over to check my phone on his nightstand, I see it’s 11:30 AM.

Milo wraps his arm around my front and tugs me back to him with a soft groan. He shifts his hips forward and I can’t help but grind back against him.

Another soft groan leaves his throat and his hold on me tightens before his entire body stiffens.

“Wh—Fuck, I’m so sorry," he says, immediately jerking away from me. His voice is thick and low with sleep. It’s so hot.

It’s such a casual thing to. The last thing Milo’s thinking about is being hot. He just is.

He scrubs a hand down his face, propping himself on his elbow. He’s turning scarlet, all the way up to his ears, with embarrassment.

“No need to apologize,” I say, propping myself up on my elbow to match his pose. “Morning wood is normal.”

“Is it still the morning?" He asks, blinking away the last lingering threads of sleep.

“Just barely. It’s 11:30. But that just means that it still technically counts as morning wood.”

He purses his lips and glances away.

“I really am sorry, I?—”

“Hey,” I say, resting a hand on his chest. I wait until his gaze returns to me. “Don’t apologize. I mean it.”

“But—but I didn’t ask," he says. I can see his mind racing, see the guilt and the memories of his past resurfacing, and I hate it.

“Well then let’s establish some ground rules now,” I say, sitting up in bed.

“Ground rules?”

“Yeah, so you don’t have to feel like you need to ask for permission every time. Obviously, if either of us isn’t feeling something in the moment, we can tell each other, but I don’t want you freaking out every time you touch me, you know?”

“O—okay," he says.

“Perfect!” I clap my hands together and his gaze immediately drops to my cleavage before jumping away in the exact opposite direction.

“First things first, you can look, Milo.”

“I—I’m sorr?—”