Page 28 of Daisy (Omega Chosen #3)

I play a card without looking at it, too distracted by the way she's breathing. Faster now. Shallower. Like something's building inside her that she doesn't quite understand.

"That's not legal," she says with amusement. "You put blue on red."

Fuck . I can't concentrate. Can't think about anything except how she'd taste. How she'd feel underneath me. How tight she'd be around my cock.

"Sorry." My voice comes out strained. "My mind wandered."

"Where did it wander to?"

The question is innocent, but there's something in her tone. Curiosity. Like she wants to know what I'm thinking about.

You. Always you. How you'd feel beneath me. How you'd sound when I make you come. How you'd look with my cock buried so deep inside you that you forget your own name.

"Nowhere important," I lie.

She studies my face with those intelligent dark eyes, and I wonder if she can read the hunger there. If she knows exactly what I'm thinking about.

"You're tense," she observes quietly. "Your scent changed."

Perceptive little omega. She can read my body like a book.

"Just thinking about tomorrow." Another lie. "About keeping you safe."

It's not entirely untrue. I am thinking about her safety. And about how badly I want to strip her out of those soft clothes and show her exactly how an alpha can make his omega feel.

"I feel safe with you," she says, and her voice has gone soft. Breathy. "I'm glad you're here with me."

The trust in her words nearly breaks me. My hands clench into fists on the bed, knuckles white with the effort of keeping them to myself.

"Daisy…"

"It's your turn," she whispers, but her voice has changed. Gone husky with something that makes every alpha instinct I have roar to life.

I look down at my cards, but the colours blur together. All I can focus on is her scent, growing richer by the minute. There's definitely desire there now, sweet and sharp and calling to me like a siren song.

The way she's breathing. The flush spreading down her neck. The way she keeps shifting on the bed like she can't get comfortable.

She's getting turned on. Just from sitting here with me. Just from talking and playing cards and being close.

And I'm about to lose my fucking mind.

"I think…" My voice cracks like a teenager's. "I think I need a break."

"Oh." Disappointment flickers across her face, and the sight of it nearly kills me. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No. God, no." I stand abruptly, getting up from the bed. "You're perfect. You're…"

I stop before I say something I can't take back. Before I tell her exactly how perfect she is and how badly I want to show her what that perfection does to me.

"Just need to use the bathroom," I manage.

I escape before she can respond, closing the bathroom door behind me with trembling hands.

Fuck. I'm completely fucked.

I lean against the sink, gripping the edges until my knuckles go white. My reflection stares back at me. Pupils blown wide, face flushed, looking exactly like what I am. An alpha who's barely holding onto his control.

The memory of her touch burns against my palm. So soft. So warm. The way she looked at me when our skin connected, like she felt it too. Like that simple contact affected her as much as it did me.

My cock throbs against my jeans, hard and aching from hours of her innocent torture. Every smile. Every laugh. Every time she bit her lip in concentration. Every brush of her fingers against mine.

It all went straight to my knot.

And her scent. Even in here, her scent follows me. Sweet honeysuckle and vanilla and that growing edge of arousal that makes my mouth water. Makes me want to bury my face between her thighs and taste her until she screams.

I try to think about anything else. Work. The weather. The fucking national debt. But all I can see is the way she looked at me when our hands touched. The wonder in her eyes. The trust.

My hands shake as I splash cold water on my face, but it doesn't help. Nothing helps. The need is too strong, too overwhelming.

I'm going to lose my mind if I don't do something about this.

My hands shake as I unbuckle my belt. This is wrong. She's in the next room, trusting me to be better than this. To be her scent match… her alpha.

But I can't think straight. Can't function with this need clawing at me like a living thing.

I shove my jeans and underwear down in one motion, freeing my aching cock.

It springs up against my stomach, thick and heavy and already leaking.

My knot is swollen from being hard for so long, from hours of wanting her.

Just from sitting across from her. Just from breathing her in.

Just from one innocent touch that lasted maybe five seconds.

"Fuck," I breathe, wrapping my hand around myself.

The relief is immediate but nowhere near enough. I stroke slowly in long movements, imagining it's her small hands touching me instead. Her curious fingers exploring every inch. When I brush against my swollen knot, the sensation nearly has me seeing stars.

Would she be shy? Would she gasp when she saw how big I am? Would she want to taste me?

My head falls back against the wall as I increase the pace. Her scent seems stronger now, like it's seeping through the walls. Surrounding me completely.

I bite back a groan as I twist my wrist, thumb spreading the moisture leaking from my tip. So good, but not good enough. Nothing will be good enough except burying myself inside her tight heat and claiming her properly.

That's when her scent spikes.

Fresh arousal. Sharp and sweet and so fucking intoxicating I nearly come on the spot.

She's touching herself. Right now, in the next room, Daisy is learning what pleasure feels like.

The knowledge makes me stroke faster, rougher. I want to go to her. I want to show her exactly how good I can make her feel. I want to replace her innocent fingers with my mouth, my hands, my cock.

"Dante?"

My eyes snap open. She's here. Standing in the doorway, dark eyes wide as she takes in the sight of me.

I should stop. Should cover myself. Should send her away and pretend this never happened.

Instead, I hold her gaze and keep stroking.