@ChampionshipTracker:He’s winning finals. Not even a question. Fourth championship incoming.
@RodeoNewsNow:McCrea looking unstoppable. But who IS she?? Anyone got a name yet?
@FinalsBound2024:Beau McCrea + Finals = Championship. It’s basically a law of nature at this point.
When I woke to find her gone from my bed, my Alpha was definitely not okay. The panic only subsided when I found her nestled in Charlie’s arms, safe and content. A weight settled in my chest, primal satisfaction at knowing she was with pack, even if it wasn’t with me.
I went downstairs to get coffee before checking the horses, overly pleased to find the scent of her and Charlie literally everywhere. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to understand what sort of activities made our entire house smell like her vanilla custard and buttercup scent.
The memory of her sweetness still lingers on my tongue. I am definitely becoming addicted to how she tastes. And when I finally get to sink into her, locking her on my knot, it will come with a promise of forever and a bite making it permanent.
Fuck, just the thought makes me euphoric and hard as hell.
Charlie and Willa come downstairs, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’m fucking worked up. Nothing prepares me to see our Omega descending the stairs in one of our shirts, lips swollen and kiss-bruised.
The glimpse of exposed skin of her bare thighs below the huge shirt sends me right back to last night, and I can smell the sharp spike of slick still clinging to her skin.
The sight of her and that shy expression makes me want to do incredibly dirty things to her.
Fuck, get it together, McCrae.
The morning passes in a blur that has my Alpha on high alert for entirely different reasons than I’m used to.
She’s in my kitchen. She moves through the space like she’s testing whether she belongs, tentative but hopeful, and my Alpha settles with satisfaction.
Yes. Here. Ours. Keep her.
I never realized how much I wanted this until it was her. Other women have been in my life, hookups that never went anywhere, but none of them made my chest feel like it was cracking open. None of them made my Alpha settle and rage all at once, desperate to keep and protect and claim.
None of them smelled right.
But Willa does. God, she smells perfect—like she was made to fit into the spaces between us, to complete our pack and fill a blankness that has always been there but I never knew about.
And now that I’ve had her here, I’m never letting her go.
Jake’s at the stove making pancakes, and I’m setting the table, stealing bites of bacon because I can’t stand still. Can’t stop moving. Can’t stop watching her as she hovers in the middle of the kitchen, her eyes tracking each of us.
Her small hands are covered by her cuffs, which she has tucked into her fist. A nervous gesture, I think. Her hesitation makes me restless, my Alpha instinct demanding I soothe her, make her comfortable.
Charlie pours juice and coffee, and Willa just… stands there. Looking lost and found all at once.
“Sit,” Jake commands, pointing at the table with his spatula. “You’re making me nervous hovering like that.”
“I could help?—”
I move before I think about it, coming up behind her and steering her toward a chair. My hands settle on her shoulders, and I have to resist the urge to bury my face in her neck.
“You could sit. And let us take care of you.”
The words come out rougher than I intend, but I mean them with every fiber of my being. Let us take care of you. Let us keep you. Let us make sure you never leave.
Breakfast is chaos—the good kind. Jake and I bicker about pancake-to-bacon ratios like we always do. Charlie steals food off everyone’s plates with that shit-eating grin of his. And Willa relaxes and laughs, the sound bright and unguarded, and I feel it everywhere.
This. I want this. Every morning. For the rest of my life.
Buttercup—the rascally little Pomeranian that Charlie insists isn’t his dog but who somehow ends up sleeping in his bed most nights—is dancing around Willa’s feet, yapping excitedly as she announces she needs to go home.
At the growl of disapproval I can’t hide, she just laughs.
