They’re going to hear me. Every sound, every gasp, every helpless noise my body is going to make, whether I want it to or not.
And I’m going to hear them.
Four alphas in rut. The sounds they’ll make. The growls and groans and?—
I catch Cole watching me, and there’s something in his expression that tells me he knows exactly what I’m thinking. His blue eyes are darker than usual, hungry, and when he shifts position again, I can see the obvious bulge in his shorts.
My omega practically purrs.
“Music,” Malik says quickly, mercifully cutting off that train of thought. His voice is strained. “We can use speakers. White noise. Whatever masks sound best.”
“I have a pretty good playlist,” Cole offers, and his cheeks are slightly pink too. At least I’m not the only one dying of embarrassment here. “Bluetooth speakers. We could set up a rotation.”
“That’s actually a good idea,” I manage to say, even though my voice sounds slightly strangled.
“I try,” Cole says with a hint of his usual grin. Then, because he apparently can’t help himself, his eyes drag over me in a way that makes me feel naked. “Though I gotta say, this is not how I imagined spending time with a beautiful omega. Usually there’s more dinner and dancing, less tropical storms.”
“Cole,” Dax warns, but there’s a roughness to his voice that wasn’t there before.
“What? I’m just saying—ow!” He rubs his ribs where Dax just elbowed him, but he’s still grinning at me in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly.
But I’m laughing. I can’t help it. It’s inappropriate andterrible timing and probably some kind of heat-induced hysteria, but I’m laughing.
“Sorry,” Cole says, though he doesn’t look particularly sorry. His eyes are still on me, tracking the way my chest moves with each laugh. “Inappropriate?”
“Very,” Jalen confirms, though even he’s fighting a smile.
“But funny,” I add, wiping at my eyes. “At least we can keep our sense of humor about this.”
“It’s either laugh or cry,” Malik says dryly, though his knuckles are strained where he’s gripping his phone. “I prefer laughing.”
“Noted for your file,” I say without thinking.
He raises an eyebrow. “My file?”
“Your psychological profile. I’m building one for each of you.” Oh God, why am I telling them this?! “It’s what I do when I’m nervous. Analyze people, figure out what makes them tick.”
“And what does my file say?” Malik asks, and there’s genuine curiosity in his voice. Also heat. Definite heat in the way he’s looking at me.
“That you cope with stress through information gathering and problem-solving. That you value structure and clear communication. That your room would probably be incredibly organized. Probably have your shirts color-coded in your wardrobe.”
There’s a beat of silence.
“The shirts are organized by frequency of use, actually,” Malik says.
Cole snorts. “Oh my God, you do organize your shirts.”
“It’s practical.” Malik shrugs
“It’s adorable,” I say, and immediately regret it when Malik’s eyes snap to mine.
There’s something in his gaze. All heat and interest and alpha want that makes my omega sit up and take notice. His scent spikes, that vanilla ice-cream intensifying until I can almost tasteit. I can see the way his chest rises and falls, the way his pupils have dilated.
He wants me. They all want me.
And God help me, I want them too.
I look away quickly, my heart pounding.
