I would love to show her now, though. I can imagine her sitting on my lap while she plays through one of our paranormal ghost hunting games, my arm wrapped around her to keep her safe.
It’s a sweet little fantasy, and I hope she doesn’t notice the way my scent has subtly changed with my arousal.
But it’s hard not to daydream about her. I imagine the mating gland that’s hiding under my sweatshirt she wears, delicate and begging to be bitten.
I mentally slap myself. I need to keep it together, at least for Rowan, whose pupils have dilated.
He’s looking at Blair like she’s the reason he breathes and with an intensity so strong that I’m surprised she hasn’t run away screaming.
I need to think of something for us to watch, and quick, before the room becomes charged with pheromones.
I press and hold the microphone button on the remote. “Cat documentaries,” I say into it, and Blair lets out a loud, hearty laugh. It rings throughout the front room, and joy lightens her expression.
She laughs even harder when more than twenty options fill the television screen.
The sound is so contagious that even Rowan and Travis chuckle.
“Pick your favorite,” I tell her, smiling.
Her laughter is music to my ears after her night of hell.
Even if just a few hours of sitting on a couch with her is all we get for now, I’ll take it.
Just breathing her in and seeing her content soothes me in a way I haven’t felt for years.
“Let’s go withTreats and Feats,” she says, chuckling, and I press play.
I do a good job of pretending to watch the documentary for about ten minutes. To his credit, Rowan does, too, and Travis keeps his face carefully neutral every time he glances over at us.
The twitch in his fingers is the only thing that gives him away.
Blair is seated between Rowan and me, sitting cross-legged on the couch, her attention on the screen. Occasionally, her eyes flutter closed, and she leans her head back, subtly slouching further against the backrest every minute the film goes on.
“I can feel the three of you looking at me,” she slurs, her voice heavy with sleep. “Don’t make things more awkward than they already are.”
“Are you cold, baby?” Rowan asks softly when she crosses her arms around herself.
“Mm-hmm.” Her eyes close, and she lets out a soft breath.
My brother and I spring into action. Each of us grabs a blanket from the top of the couch and drapes it around her. I layer mine on her first and Rowan follows.
“Guys,” Travis warns, but her eyes flutter open again. The hazel hues meet mine, and my throat goes dry.
“Thanks,” she says to me. “Alpha.”
Then, she’s back asleep again, and my cock is straining in my pants.
She called meAlphain that low, needy voice.
The voice of her inner Omega spoke to me.
The documentary plays on in the background, while I stare at Blair slack-jawed.
“The Siamese cat is one of the loudest felines, and is known for being quite dramatic.”
My hand is dangerously close to Blair’s knee, and I realize Rowan has moved closer to her as well.
She’s practically sandwiched between us, sound asleep.
