“A cheat code?” He laughs against my skin. “What am I cheating at?”
“Making me want to stay in bed forever.”
“That’s not cheating. That’s good strategy.”
Elijah’s arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer. His purr deepens but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t need to. Through the bond, I feel his contentment, his reluctance to let this moment end.
“Five more minutes,” I say to no one in particular.
“Five more minutes,” Milo agrees.
We lie tangled together, four bodies and four heartbeats, and I let myself feel all of it. The warmth. The safety. The bone-deep certainty that I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.
Eventually,biology wins.
“I really do need food,” Ben says. “And coffee. And possibly a bathroom.”
“Same,” Milo groans.
Elijah just grunts in agreement.
We untangle ourselves slowly, reluctantly. I wince when I sit up—I’m sore in the best possible way, but still sore—and three alphas immediately go on alert.
“You okay?” Ben’s hand finds my lower back.
“Fine. Just... a lot of activity for one night.”
“We could run you a bath,” Milo offers. “Elijah’s tub is ridiculous. You could fit all four of us in there.”
I blink. “You’ve tested this?”
“Not like that.” He grins. “But it’s been discussed.”
Through the bond, I feel Elijah’s quiet embarrassment. He built that tub for a pack. Of course he did.
“Later,” I decide. “Food first.”
“Pancakes?” Ben asks hopefully.
“I’ll cook,” Milo says, already pulling on his jeans. “Elijah’s kitchen is actually stocked. Miracle of miracles.”
“I eat,” Elijah says. His first words of the morning, rough as gravel.
“You eat protein bars and black coffee. That doesn’t count.”
I laugh, and the sound surprises me. Easy. Natural. Like I’ve been laughing with these three men every morning for years.
Maybe I will be, now.
Breakfast ischaos in the best possible way.
Milo takes over the kitchen with the efficiency of someone who’s spent years feeding drunk people at 2 AM. Eggs, bacon, toast, pancakes, coffee strong enough to strip paint. Ben keeps stealing bacon off the plate before it’s done, and Milo threatens him with a spatula.
“I’m a growing boy,” Ben protests.
“You’re a thirty-two-year-old man-child who can wait five minutes.”
“But it smells so good...”
