Page 21 of My Three Hometown Alphas

“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” Miles says.

“Super happy,” Lyla agrees, laying her head against Avery’s arm. Avery smiles down at her with a tenderness that warms my heart.

When my turn rolls around, I can’t find a single part of my day that surpasses this dinner that I was reluctant to even let happen. Now I’m grateful my niece bullied it into existence.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Avery

Somehow,Lyla conned all of us into playing a board game after dinner.

She’s currently looking in the closet in the hallway for the perfect game to finish off the night, while we all eat the cupcakes Lyla and I made this afternoon.

I sneak out to the garage to grab a seltzer water from the fridge out there where they keep most of their drinks.

“Shit,” I yelp, slamming into something hard. It’s almost pitch black out here, so I can’t see who I ran into. I don’t need my eyes to sense who it is, though.

Owen’s hands grip my shoulders, keeping me from falling backwards into the door that slammed shut behind me.

Tilting my head up, I can only see the faintest outline of his chiseled face. “Sorry,” I breathe out, finding it difficult to come up with any other words with him this close to me.

“Not your fault,” he says.

I realize for the first time that my hands are gripping his T-shirt. I can feel his abs tensing against my fists with each breath he takes.

I know I should step away, but my feet are glued in place. Knowing this can’t happen and wanting this moment to last fora few heartbeats longer are two realities very much coexisting in my mind.

“I need to kiss you one more time,” he says on a heavy exhale. It’s barely above a whisper. Even with our bodies pressed this closely together, I’m still surprised I heard him.

Maybe it’s the fact that we can’t really see each other right now that makes this moment feel distant from the rest of the real world. Maybe it’s something else entirely. No matter the reason, I find myself saying, “Do it.”

“Angel.”

My knees nearly buckle from the softness with which he says it.

“Owen,” I say with matching emotion.

His hands move from my shoulders to the sides of his face, and then his lips brush against mine. The contact is barely there at first. It’s a tease of what was and what could be… if only.

I can’t think about that right now, though. This moment, here in the dark, is ours. Nothing else matters right now.

When his lips press against mine again, there’s a hint of desperation seeping through and a whole lot of passion. It’s everything I remember and so much more.

I’ve thought about all those kisses we shared so many times over the years, more times than would probably be considered healthy. But those kisses archived in my memory don’t hold a candle to the real Owen Kingston who’s currently kissing me within an inch of my sanity.

Eventually, he pulls back a few inches, so we can both catch our breath.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

I know what you mean.

I want to scream it, but it seems wrong to say anything above a whisper. Anything above that level might shatter the thin glass holding this moment in place.

He rests his forehead against mine.

“That has to be it,” he says. His voice is pained, but I can tell he means every word.

I want to bang my fists against his chest, demanding we make this work. I stay frozen, though, because he’s right. There are so many reasons this can’t be.