Page 41 of Party Girl: How a Naughty Omega Finds Love
The front door opens. Her gaze flicks over my shoulder and her eyes widen. Sucking in a sharp breath, she takes in Avi. I ignore the surge of jealousy. Abhishek is pack and he has this effect on women, the fucking bastard. I can picture the women in his psych class panting after him while he’s totally oblivious to their attention.
Asshole.
“Hey, Avi.” I turn to find him standing in the door without a shirt on. “Really?” I ask.
He gives me something that’s supposed to resemble a smile. He hasn’t truly smiled since the shooting. “It was hot in the house.”
“Can you put some clothes on for our guest?”
Whitney is speechless, probably drinking in the sight of his rich brown skin, soft black hair, and the ridiculously tight black sweats he’s wearing. Avi is equally enraptured by Whitney, and I can’t say I blame him. She’s gorgeous, even if she is wearing day-old clothes.
“Avi, this is Whitney. She has to pee.”
“Asher,” she hisses.
“What? Do you or do you not?” I ask.
Avi and I both look at her, and she blushes.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Okay. Avi, move your ass and put some fucking clothes on.”
He runs his hand over his abs. Whitney’s arousal sweeps through the air, and I clench my jaw, hating that she responds to him so easily. I went out of my way to make sure I didn’t overwhelm her with my scent. Her omega nature makes her susceptible to alpha scents, and she was pissed at me in the club when she caught a whiff of mine.
“The bathroom is down the hallway. First door on the left.” Avi walks away, heading in the direction of his room and hopefully to find a shirt.
Whitney clears her throat and snaps out of the spell Avi cast on her. “Thanks,” she says before heading in. Her hips sway seductively in that ridiculously tight dress, which she’s had on for at least two days. She can’t be comfortable.
Hurrying to my room, I grab a pair of old sweats and the smallest shirt I own. Soft noises come from inside the bathroom. When she starts washing her hands, I knock lightly.
“I brought you some clothes in case you want to change too.”
She doesn’t respond. The water shuts off, and the door opens a few inches. Her gaze bounces between the clothes in my hand and my face.
“I have my own clothes.”
“Oh.” Yeah, I’m an idiot. “Do you want me to grab your suitcase?” I tuck the outfit under my arm, and she stares at it.
“Um. Sure. I mean, I guess if we have time.”
“We have time,” I assure her. “I’ll be right back.” Turning to leave, I scrunch my face together and let embarrassment wash over me while she can’t see.
“You didn’t change.”
I glance over my shoulder. “What?”
“I thought you wanted a new shirt?”
Fucking hell, Asher. Get it together. “Oh, yeah. I got distracted. I’ll change when I’m back,” I say, instead of trying to explain myself.
Once I’m out of the house, I curse myself under my breath and replay the conversation in my head. I’ve never been this horrible with women. Usually I charm them with a smile and some quick-witted comments. Whitney isn’t easy to read.
“You got this,” I tell myself. “She’s not going to bite.”
My dick stirs, wondering if I asked her, if she would actually sink her teeth into my skin. I think about the last murder scene I investigated to calm myself down. Whitney isn’t into me.
She’s off limits.
