Emery
The air is thick with it.
Slick, sweat, musk—alpha.
Everywhere.
I blink up at the ceiling, still panting. I don’t think I’ve moved in ten minutes. Or maybe it’s been five. Or twenty. Hard to tell when you’ve been knotted.
Beau is still locked inside me. His massive body is now practically draped over mine, breath fanning against my shoulder, and even though his weight should be overwhelming… it isn’t. It’s grounding.Steady.
Connor is curled on the padded floor mat beside the bench, arm thrown over his eyes like he’s just run a marathon. He probably feels like he has. I know I do.
Meanwhile, my PT table has been ruined.Again.
“Okay,” I croak, my voice like sandpaper. “I need to stop fucking on this bench.”
Neither of them speaks.
“I’m serious,” I groan, trying to shift.
Beau growls low in his chest.
Shit.Still locked.
“I need to disinfect everything. There’s going to be scent all over this room.”
Connor snorts into the crook of his elbow. “You think a little disinfectant’s gonna scrub this away?”
“I could try. I did last time.” I sigh, staring up at the ceiling again. “Maybe I need to call in a hazmat team. Or burn the place down.”
Beau finally stirs behind me, his mouth brushing the curve of my shoulder.
“No burning things.”
“Oh, look who’s awake,” I mutter, but it comes out softer than I mean it to.
Maybe because his hand is now stroking my hip, or because I can feel the slow fade of rut finally starting to let go of him.
“You good?” I ask, quieter now.
He nods against me, but then pulls back.
“I didn’t mean for it to…”
“I know.”
His body goes still, and I sigh.
“I mean it,” I say, pushing up on my elbows as much as I can. “I knew exactly what I was doing. You didn’t force me into anything.”
“But I—”
“You didn’t.” I glance toward Connor, who’s watching us now. “Either of you.”
Connor raises a brow. “You sound disappointed.”
“I’m anythingbut.” I smile, then roll my eyes. “I’m just saying… I liked it.”
