"You don't have to be ready." I cup her face gently, making sure she's looking at me. "If it is your heat—and we don't know for sure—we'll take care of you. All three of us. However you need. You won't go through it alone. But if it's not, if it's just your body responding to us..." I brush my thumb across her cheek. "That's okay too."
"What if I don't know the difference?"
"Then we figure it out together." The certainty in my voice surprises me. "We'll know when we know. No pressure either way."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
"That we'll take care of you?"
"That I'll like it too much." Her voice goes small, vulnerable. "That I'll want to keep you."
Everything in me settles at once—like a lock clicking into place. "Bea. We're already yours. You couldn't get rid of us if you tried."
She stares at me for a long moment, her guard dropping completely. Then she rises on her toes to kiss me—soft and sweet and devastating.
"We should get back out there," she murmurs against my lips.
"Probably."
Neither of us moves for another minute.
Finally, reluctantly, I step back. She looks thoroughly debauched—lips swollen and red, hair mussed, a mark blooming on her neck where I sucked too hard, her scent still broadcasting satisfaction and arousal. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
"Your shirt's wrinkled," she points out, reaching up to smooth the flannel. Her hand trembles slightly.
"Your hair's a disaster."
"Whose fault is that?" But she's finger-combing it back into some semblance of order, trying to look presentable. It's not working. She looks like she just got thoroughly made out with in a stock room.
Good.
"Mine. Completely mine. And I'm not even a little bit sorry."
She rolls her eyes but she's smiling. "We smell like sex."
"Yeah, we do."
"Everyone's going to know."
"Good." I catch her hand, lacing our fingers together. "Let them know. You're ours, Bea. Might as well make it obvious."
Her scent spikes warm and pleased, even through the embarrassment.
We emerge from the stock room to find the store still blessedly empty. Bea heads straight for the bathroom to fix her hair properly while I adjust myself behind the counter—still hard, still aching, still able to smell her slick on my jeans. It's going to drive me insane for the rest of the day.
Worth it.
My phone buzzes.
Pack Chat
Seth:How's the shift going?
I glance toward the bathroom, then back at my phone, and can't quite suppress my grin.
Me:Interesting.
Grayson:You're a terrible liar. What did you do?
