Page 25 of Gigi and the Gym Rats

A male omega’s room, I think, and yet not.Casey’sroom. He’s made the room his own within days—and yet there is nothing personal about it. No photos. No memorabilia.

I really don’t know anything about him, apart from the few things he told us the day he introduced himself to us.

Now he’s bowed over his keyboard, squinting at the screen—and manages to make even that sexy.

Shivering, I step closer to him and after a moment, he pulls a small stool, sweeps a bunch of papers off and pats it.

Automatically, I sit down. My thigh touches his. He’s so warm. I don’t know how I ended up here tonight, how this evening turned out. I had a plan. I had a masterplan.

Still do, I remind myself. The masterplan is still in force.

Easy to forget about it, though, when he clicks a file open and shoots me a crooked grin.

“See? I made this last week, but today I’m not so sure I like it anymore.”

“Oh, wow.” I lean forward, examining the image. It’s of a gothic girl, coyly gazing at the camera, darkness behind her, echoed in the black hue of her gown. The title is written large, in gold.

“What do you think?” he asks softly, as if afraid to break a spell.

It feels like a spell to me, sitting beside him in his room, looking at his art.

“I like it,” I say. “But…”

“It’s lacking something,” he finishes for me.

I nod. “Sorry. Is that rude?”

“Not at all.” He chuckles. It’s a warm, rich sound. I bet his laughter is even richer, like a trickle of dark caramel. And now my nipples are hard.

Dammit.

“Now look at this one.” He clicks another file open. Another image. “How do you feel about this one?”

It’s similar, I think. Same model. The girl is now looking over her shoulder at the camera, a teasing smile on her lips, and the title is slightly bigger, done in white and pale pink.

“I like it,” I say. “More. I like this one more.”

He hums in an affirmative way.

“I can’t tell you why I prefer it, though.” I study the image. It makes me want to find out this girl’s story. Makes me want to open that book.

“But it feels good?”

“It feels very good,” I say.

“That’s what matters. How something feels, not what it looks like.”

That sounds… profound, somehow. It touches a place in me that makes me shudder, and I can’t tell you what it is.

Especially when he breaks my concentration a second later, turning his head to look at me, still with that crooked grin on his face, those gray eyes sparkling. “Gigi…”

I lift my gaze to his, and we’re impossibly close, our mouths inches apart. I can feel his warm breath on my lips. It smells of minty toothpaste. I can’t speak.

I don’t think I’ve ever kissed a man this beautiful. I mean, I did sleep with Zayne, back when, but did we ever kiss? I can’t recall.

And why am I thinking of Zayne now? I can’t?—

Casey kisses me. Suddenly his hands are on my cheeks and his warm lips are on mine, and we’re kissing—because I lean in, my eyes closing, sensations flooding me.

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