Page 55 of Claiming the Pack's Omega
It’s almost spring time, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a chill in the air.
When Milo looks literally everywhere in the car and out of it, trying to avoid looking at me, I can’t take it anymore.
“Do I freak you out?” I huff, pulling the duffel bag to the floor in front of me and turning to face him.
“Wh—what?”
“Do you not like me or something?”
“N—no, that’s not it at all,” Milo says, his eyes going wide.
His amber eyes finally meet mine. They’re gorgeous. I don’t know why he puts so much effort into hiding them, whether that’s by not meeting my gaze or hiding behind his shaggy, curly, dirty blonde hair.
“Then what is it? Because you’re kind of treating me like I’ve got a contagious disease. I swear, I’m clean, there was this doctor guy who would test all the girls who worked at the club?—”
“No!” Milo says.
Damn. That’s the loudest I’ve ever heard him talk.
He even looks surprise at his volume.
“N—no,” he repeats, going back to his quiet self. “It’s not that. I—I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, not at all. I—I just?—”
I stay quiet, letting Milo get his words out at his own pace.
“I’m worried you want nothing to do with me,” he whispers, staring down at his hands.
“What? Why do you think that?”
“I mean, it’s no secret you’re pissed at my pack mates and I. We all lied to you. But—but I was the one who spied on you,” His head drops as he starts picking at his cuticles. He picks so hard I see a spot of blood forming at the base of his nail.
“Hey, stop that!” Before I know what I’m doing, I’m reaching over the center seat and pulling his hands into my own.
He freezes.
I freeze.
His cool gunmetal scent thickens as he stares at me, his mouth slack in shock.
Damn, it’s like he’s never felt the touch of a woman before.
I blink.
Fuck, maybe he hasn’t.
I jerk my hands backward. I wouldn’t want to unintentionally take his hand-holding virginity. Not that that’s a real thing.
Milo’s now empty hands flex as he stares at me, that dumbfounded expression still on his face.
It just draws my attention to them. To his strong fingers. Up his forearms.
What the hell am I doing?
I jerk my gaze away from him.
Fuck, look who’s avoiding eye contact awkwardly now.
I tell myself I was just trying to get him to stop hurting himself. That’s why I touched him.
