Page 65 of Omega

God, did I want him.

It was just the adrenaline, right?

Adrenaline made you feel horny. I’d read that somewhere, or maybe I’d seen it in a movie.

Keep it together.

Don’t jump him.

My hands were twitchy and itchy. I wanted to paw his shirt off and run my hands over his abs, feel his ass cool and hard and taut in my hands, I wanted to clutch his cock and feel him throb between my fingers. I wanted to taste him and touch him and lick him and suck him and fuck him.

I stole a glance, and caught him just as he was looking away, returning his attention to the road. He’d been staring at my tits.

I looked down, and totally understood. I mean, they were pretty fucking prominent, especially with arousal making my nipples so hard they hurt, so hard they could cut diamonds.

I crossed my arms over my chest, but that didn’t help. My own arms rubbing over my sensitive nipples had me squirming, aching. My core pulsed, and I crossed one leg over another, but that made it a thousand times worse.

I couldn’t breathe for how badly I needed sex…

For how badly I needed Harris.

I looked left again, and this time my gaze caught his. He cut his eyes to the road briefly, just long enough to navigate a turn, and then he was looking at me again. I held his gaze, lifted my chin. Defiant. Daring.

It was an act; I couldn’t fucking breathe, couldn’t take another second of insatiable need. Pure, unadulterated thirst for Nicholas Harris.

His eyes flitted over my face, slid slowly and deliberately down to my tits, and then back up. I stared into his eyes when they returned to mine. Glanced down, and saw his bulge. Ho-lyshit, he had a bulge. Massive, huge bulge.

I swallowed hard and laced my fingers together on my lap to keep from ripping open his pants and deep-throating him as he drove.

“Don’t look at me like that, Layla,” he growled.

His eyes returned to the road and he gripped the steering wheel with both hands and shifted in the driver’s seat.

“Then don’t you look at me like that either.” I turned away and tried to focus on the scenery outside the window.

“I’m not looking at you like anything,” he said.

“And neither am I.” My words were given a lie by the way I tried to steal a look at him, and caught him doing the same.

Silence.

“It’s just the adrenaline,” I said.

“Right.” His hands were twisting the faded leather of the steering wheel as if trying to choke it into submission.

“It’ll pass on its own. It doesn’t mean anything.” I tried chewing on my lip, biting down hard enough to cause pain.

Nope. That didn’t help either.

I crossed and uncrossed my legs so many times it probably looked like I was doing the pee-pee dance. Only, it was the pretend-you-don’t-need-sex dance.

And Harris was doing one of his own. I stole a glance and caught him trying to surreptitiously adjust himself, plucking at the zipper of his khakis to relieve the pressure of his erection.

Shit. Shitshitshit.Do not think about his erection, I told myself.

Do not think about his massive, throbbing erection. Don’t think about stroking him, petting his thick, veiny cock. Don’t think about licking the pre-come from his tip, or wrapping my lips around the bulbous head.

Fuck.