Page 132 of Saving the Pack's Omega

“Then why didn’t you touch me last night? Everyone else did.” My throat still feels tight, despite his attempt to comfort me with his touch.

“The ethics of consent around omega and alpha relationships are shaky enough as is. Things only get murkier when high-hormone situations like heats and heat spikes get thrown into the mix.” His jaw clenches, and he scrubs a hand down his face. It only accentuates how tired he looks.

“It’s in part why the Omega Center has so much paperwork involved, confirming the consent of all parties before anything happens,” he continues. “I know you say you were fine with everything that happened now, but since we didn’t have an opportunity to talk things through beforehand, there was a risk you wouldn’t have felt that way.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question about whyyoudidn’t touch me. I wanted—I wanted—” My voice breaks. “I wanted all of you. I want all of you.”

Archer meets my gaze and holds it. His dark gaze is unwavering.

“You’ve never chosen to touch me. Not like you have with theothers. We haven’t even kissed yet. I wasn’t going to have the first time we did be under the influence of heat hormones.”

“So—so that’s why you were just telling everyone else what to do last night?”

He chuckles darkly.

“I had enough integrity to not touch you directly last night, but not enough to volunteer to drive that car.”

“Did—did you want to touch me?” I swallow hard, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“More than I’ve wanted anything.” His voice is a strained whisper. “You looked so good falling apart in Madden and Chase’s arms. And god, your scent.” He lets out a soft groan that shoots straight to my core.

“Do you still want to touch me?”

The sound of his barstool scraping against the marble floor as he stands suddenly makes me jump in my seat. His presence is all-consuming, with his spicy cinnamon scent growing so thick it’s all I can smell.

“Be careful, little omega,” he growls, his chest heaving. “That sounds an awful lot like an invitation.”

“And if it is?”

His lips crash down onto mine and steal my breath away. His hand twists into my messy hair as he bends down, turning my head to find the perfect angle.

He kisses me like he’s waited his entire life to do so. I grip onto his shirt, trying to steady myself, trying to keep myself from being swept away.

He lets out a little growl, his other hand drifting into Kane’s blazer and cupping my breast with his large hand. My skin feels too tight, too hot for my body. I know my heat spike is over, but this feels an awful lot like it.

“Fuck,” he pants when he finally pulls away.

“Oh my god,” I whisper against his lips.

His gaze darts between my eyes as if he’s trying to read mymind. When his finger brushes over my nipple and I let out a soft whine from the back of my throat, I can see the way his eyes darken.

“I’ve wanted to be the reason you make those little noises so badly.” He unbuttons the blazer and lifts me out of my barstool, setting me, naked, onto the cool kitchen counter.

His forearms flex with the motion, drawing my attention to the way the sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows.

All of the guys are gorgeous in their own ways, but Archer is striking in his handsome beauty. It caught my eye when I first saw him, and it’s making me catch my breath now. Or maybe that was his mind-blowing kiss.

Either way, I see nothing other than his broad shoulders, his chiseled jawline, and the hunger in his gaze as he looks at my naked body.

There’s something different about being naked in front of Archer this morning, even though I was naked in front of all of them last night. There aren’t any heat hormones overwhelming my brain and body. I get to soak in the experience, the feeling of being bare in front of an alpha I so desperately want to please.

“It looks like you’re thinking an awful lot,” he says, stepping forward and spreading my legs to make space for himself.

Neither of us misses the way my slick gushes between my legs at his movement. Oh god, I think I’m dripping onto the counter.

“What’s going through that head of yours?” He murmurs, leaning in and drawing his nose up the column of my neck.

“I want—I want to make you feel good,” I whisper. “I don’t want you to feel left out.”

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