And I wishtheydidn’t think of it as a mistake.
The moment Alex lowers onto the cushion beside me, he grabs my legs and stretches them across his lap, his hands working the muscles in my calves, down to my feet, then back up again.
A contented sigh leaves my lips before I can even consider holding it back.
Why would I? This feels amazing. Not just the way his hands expertly work the tightness of my muscles, but his touch, his scent, his pheromones lifting on the air and seeping into my pores and being sucked into my lungs with each inhale.
“What are you watching?” he asks, darting a glance at the TV before looking back at me with a wry smile.
It’s then I realize the TV is playing a documentary on poly sex clubs. Whoops.
I really hadn’t paid attention. I just lifted the remote, pointed, and clicked.
“I wasn’t really paying attention. I, uh, was playing on my phone.”
“Mmhm,” he says, his hands slowly moving further up my leg, still squeezing and kneading the muscles even as he moved to my thigh. “And while you were playing with your phone, you just happened to land on a sex show?”
His voice is way too deep and sultry. I mean, not in a bad way. It’s seriously affecting my ability to focus on his words instead of the way his hands feel on me or the way my cock is growing harder by the second.
With a sexy as sin quirk to his lips, he turns his attention back to the show and goes from massaging my legs to runninghis fingertips along my shins, over my knee, up my inner thigh then back, causing goosebumps to rise along the path.
A shiver runs up my spine and my nipples instantly harden.
Listen, I am far from a prude. Even further from a virgin.
But something about this alpha – all three of them, really – makes my body react to the simplest touch. I’m seconds away from shoving my boxers to my ankles, rolling onto all fours right here on the couch, and presenting while begging him to leave a mark right beside Mason’s.
Shame and sorrow threaten to swallow me whole. I need to push those fantasies and urges away. It’ll do nothing but make them think they made a mistake by approaching me.
I might only have a year with them, but isn’t that better than walking away now? There’s a whole saying about this exact situation:
It’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.
Though, as time passes and my feelings for these men grow from merely physical to something deeper, I’m starting to think that poet was either full of shit or never truly had his heart broken.
CHAPTER 26
Desmond
The last time I showered this quickly was two weeks ago when Hudson was in heat. I simply need to get clean, wash away the scents from our clients and omega employees, then head to Hudson.
Alex is already in there. I know because there’s a rush of lust pulsing down the bond.
That lust keeps mixing with various other emotions, though, including sorrow and shame. What could possibly make him feel ashamed? We’re here, we left work early to be with him, so I would think that sorrow would be gone.
The shame? I have no idea what the hell could be causing that. But I plan to find out and erase it from his heart and mind.
There is literally nothing Hudson has done that justifies him feeling ashamed. If anyone should feel that way it’s us, Mason for biting and bonding him when they were both lost to their hindbrains and Alex and me for not being able to stop him.
As I round the corner, I stumble a little but right myself before I look like a dork. Hudson is wearing these silky looking black boxers and nothing else.
He’s like every wet dream rolled into one beautiful omega.
Alex is sitting beside him, running his fingertips up and down his legs starting around his ankles, up the inside of his thighs before running them down again.
As I move further into the room, I glance at the TV then do a double take at a middle-aged woman teaching a class of men and women how to give blow jobs using dildos.
“Um…what are you watching?”
