"Why do you look so satisfied?" I ask suspiciously, narrowing my eyes at his expression. There's something almost predatory about the way he's looking at me.
"Mm," he hums, moving closer until he's standing right in front of me, looking down with that intense military Alpha energy. "Getting to watch you demonstrate your flexibility for an entire hour is giving me ideas. Lots of very specific, very detailed ideas."
My face goes from warm to absolutely burning. I reach out and slap his chest—not hard, just enough to make a point.
"Shh! People will hear you! This is a public space!"
He huffs, catching my hand against his chest and holding it there so I can feel his heartbeat through his workout shirt.
"No one is hearing anything, Reverie. No one is here except us."
I look around the enclosed patio area properly for the first time since I started my workout.
He's right. The space is completely empty.
No other morning exercisers, no yoga enthusiasts, no one taking advantage of the beautiful sunrise view.
"Wow," I say, genuinely surprised. "I thought there would be plenty of people up here enjoying the sunrise and the facilities. It's so pretty and peaceful. This seems like prime workout time."
Theo smirks—and it's the kind of smirk that immediately makes alarm bells ring in my head. That knowing, slightly mischievous expression that tells me something is going on that I'm not aware of.
I arch an eyebrow at him.
"What? What did you do?"
His smirk only widens.
Before he can answer my question, I feel the warm, soft, quilted weight of my cardigan being draped carefully over myshoulders from behind. The fabric still carries a hint of warmth, like it's been held close to someone's body.
I look up and behind me to see Nash standing there, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement and something darker, more possessive, more predatory.
He adjusts the cardigan gently with large, capable hands, making sure it covers me properly and sits evenly on my shoulders. His motor oil and leather scent wraps around me along with the fabric.
"You really think," he starts, his voice dropping to that low, rough register that makes my stomach flip, "we're going to let just anyone, random strangers, other guests, whoever might wander in here,watch our Omega demonstrate every single flexible position we'd love to put you in behind closed doors?"
He pauses deliberately, letting that sink in.
Then adds with absolute finality,
"Fuck no. Absolutely not happening. Not a chance in hell."
My face has to be tomato red now. Actually, beyond tomato. Maybe closer to fire-engine red or stop-sign red. I can feel the heat radiating from my cheeks. I groan loudly and cover my burning face with both hands.
"That's illegal! You can't just rent out an entire public wellness facility because you're possessive Alphas!"
Nash chuckles—deep and warm and completely, utterly unapologetic. The sound reverberates through his chest. He leans in close from behind, his lips brushing feather-light against the side of my neck in a way that makes me shiver involuntarily despite the warmth of the cardigan. His hand grips my waist possessively, fingers splaying wide across my skin through the thin, sweat-dampened fabric of my sports bra, thumb stroking small circles against my ribcage.
"You know what's actually illegal?" he whispers directly against my flesh, his breath hot and damp on my sensitive skin."These tights. These fucking tights that have been absolutely tormenting me for the past solid hour while I've been standing in the corner watching you bend and stretch and move your body in ways that make me want to rip them clean off your gorgeous legs so I can fuck you nice and hard right here on this mat."
I quiver visibly at his words, at the raw uncensored desire in his tone, at the possessive grip of his hand.
"I—I didn't do anything wrong! I was just existing! Just doing my normal workout routine! That's not tormenting! That's self-care!"
Theo chuckles from where he's still standing in front of me, looking thoroughly entertained by my flustered state.
"It's becoming very abundantly clear that your existence itself—just you being you, breathing, moving, existing in space—is a significant difficulty in our books, Sugarplum. You don't have to do anything specific. Just being yourself is more than enough to drive all three of us completely insane."
I groan in complete defeat, overwhelmed by both of them ganging up on me with their combined Alpha intensity and possessive declarations that I have absolutely no defense against.
