For better or worse, these alphas did. Their plan, their time together, had let them glimpse deeper than anyone else had in her entire life.
“Which is yet another reason this can’t go on,” she said out loud to herself.
The alphas were all still asleep. While her hormones let her bounce back quicker, they’d exhausted themselves satisfying her.
She recalled Trent, after three rounds, groaning when she’d crawled over him, when she’d straddled his waist, needing him another time. She wasn’t sure if by that point he’d even enjoyed it, not like he would have regular sex, at least. Still, he’d given to her, without reservation or complaint.
Finally, when she’d all but passed out, they’d brought her back to the main house. They’d ended up in Daniel’s room, their bodies entwined with hers in some puzzle that allowed all of them to fit on the bed—barely.
They’d hardly stirred when she’d risen, telling her just how tired they were.
So she’d let them sleep.
It gave her time to herself anyway.
The odds of getting pregnant were low, which was the only reason she wasn’t panicked. The thought of having a child—
She couldn’t even fathom the idea. That was how foreign it was—she couldn’t even come up with a scenario where it was possible.
“Morning.” Trent’s voice brought her gaze up.
Of course, it was Trent. He was the caretaker. She’d have never figured it on first meeting them, when on that first night he’d looked like some huge brawler.
Yet there he stood, a plate of food in his hand as he set a water bottle on the table beside her.
“Morning.”
He lifted her feet, then took a spot there so her legs draped across his lap. The position was intimate, but could she really be upset about that after the night before?
He picked up the fork and got a bite of scrambled eggs on the tines, then offered it.
She wanted to balk—as she always did when he fed her—but instead she took the bite, suppressing the moan at the wonderful taste.
She’d never admit it, but a part of the feeding, the way he hovered, made her happy. She’d never had someone really care about her, not that she could recall.
“How do you feel, pet?”
She swallowed the bit, not surprised that it was good. The alphas all seemed to be adept cooks. “Fine.”
Trent’s eyebrow lifted in that subtle way that made her stomach drop.
“Sore,” she admitted. “But it’s not that bad.”
He nodded, as though her answer satisfied him this time. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small red pills. “Ibuprofen. For after you eat, though.”
Alison stared at the little pills when he set them on the table in front of the swing, beside the water bottle.
“What are you frowning at like that?” His tone held amusement, as though he wasn’t annoyed by her confusion, just entertained.
“I don’t like being taken care of.”
“Really?” He nodded down at how she’d melted into the position, her legs over his lap, her eyes already on the next bite she wanted from his plate.
Her cheeks heated and she went to pull away.
He caught her foot to keep her exactly where she was. “Wasn’t complaining. Believe it or not, I rather like taking care of someone.”
“Why? Who wants some overgrown, useless burden around?” She cringed at her own tone, at the way self-loathing dripped from it.
