And I swear to God—I whimpered.
Because part of me wanted to run.
But the other part?
The filthy, needy, Omega part?
Wanted to be caught. He growled as he caught me starting into space in thoughts.
“s**t, Lyra,” he growled under his breath, taking one step closer like he couldn’t help himself anymore, like he was trying not to pounce right here in the kitchen. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?”
I blinked up at him, breathing way too fast for someone who was still fully clothed and allegedly safe inside her house.
My palms were sweaty. My thighs were sticky. My brain was just looping one sentence on repeat: Do not say yes. Do not say yes. Do not say yes.
“Run with me,” he said again, slower this time, darker, like he knew exactly how to crawl under my skin and make i
