Page 8 of The Pregnant Wolf Omega Next Door

Emre looked down at himself, but all he saw were the scars and stretchmarks on his body, and the stark roundness of his belly.

Did Zenith really find him attractive?

The alpha prowled closer, dark eyes fixed on him. Emre’s entire body grew hot. He backed away and turned, trying to remember where he had dropped his clothes.

“Mmm,” Zenith growled.

Emre peeked over his shoulder, only to find Zenith checking out his ass. He squawked.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Zenith murmured. “If you need a shirt, I’ve got one.”

Emre grabbed the nearest piece of fabric, but it was one of Abbie’s tiny towels. It barely covered his crotch.

“Here,” Zenith said.

Emre turned back. Zenith had pulled offhis own shirt,and he was holding it out.

“Th-thanks.” A hot blush flooded Emre’s face. Awkwardly, he wrapped the thin shirt around himself. It was warm with Zenith’s body heat, and rich with Zenith’s scent—along with a hint of fresh alpha sweat. Emre wanted to ball it up and breathe it all in.

Maybe when he found some privacy.

Zenith watched brazenly as Emre buttoned up his shirt. It was huge on him, fitting snug around his belly, and it fell to mid-thigh.

“Would you mind if I had dinner with you?” Zenith asked, gesturing at the boxes he had set on the narrow kitchen counter.

“Um, sure? I don’t have any fancy tables and chairs,” Emre said awkwardly. His spindly chairs would probably collapse like toothpicks under Zenith’s weight.

“I can sit on the floor,” Zenith said.

“You can sit on my bed.” Emre froze when the words had left his mouth. “Um. I mean, my bed is in my living room. It’s like a futon except there’s no... actual furniture under it. But that just means it doesn’t squeak when I, um, move around on it.”

Then he realized how incriminatingthatsounded. Emre buried his face in his hands.

“Just shut me up,” he mumbled.

The alpha’s lips pulled into a slow smile. “I’ll sit on the floor.”

“The floor’s hard. It might hurt your perfect ass,” Emre blurted. “What if it doesn’t bounce back?”

Zenith’s eyebrows crawled higher, but he looked amused. “My ass is perfect?”

“It’s... round,” Emre whispered, cupping his hands to demonstrate. The next second, he wanted to sink through the floor. “Please just kill me.”

“I would rather have dinner with you,” Zenith said with a grin. “Let me dish out some food.”

He turned back to the counter and slid a huge, glistening steak onto a plate. The mashed potatoes smelled savory and buttery, and Emre was moaning even before he’d tasted any of it.

Zenith rumbled. “You really like my food.”

“I, uh. Yes. It smells amazing. Like it could make me cream my pants.”

They both looked down, where Emre wasn’t wearing any pants at all.

Emre blushed so hard, it went down his chest. He hurriedly found a pair of pants and struggled into them, leaning against the wall for support.

Was it him, or did Zenith’s bulge look bigger?

“Aren’t your pants crushing your balls?” Emre’s mouth said without his permission. “They look tight.”