“Ah, the cozy games.”
“That’s what they’re called?” He scrunches his brows. “What makes them cozy? They’re not blankets.”
“Yes, but theyfeellike blankets.”
He blinks at me and I burst into laughter. When he sees the happiness on my face, he relaxes a bit. “Well, I may not understand them, but I’d like to learn. Maybe you can teach me sometime.”
My laughter subsides as I process that statement. “Really? You want to play with me?”
“I mean, yeah,” he says, scratching his neck. “If it means I get to spend more time with you, I’ll try anything.”
The sentiment hits its mark, right in the center of my chest. “I always assumed you hated them and didn’t want to.”
“No, I was…” He shrugs. “I was scared to ask.”
I look at him for a few more seconds, then I reach over and take his hand. Tentatively, I lace them together, all while Thatcher watches in anticipation. When they’re interlocked, my entire being feels satiated, and the alpha I’m holding sneaks a tiny smile behind his cup as he drinks.
“Do you feel the same way about Opal? Are you afraid toclose that gap?” I ask, throwing some breadcrumbs into the conversation.
His brow raises but his eyes hold curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“I’m just saying if you find yourself wanting to connect with her, you can. Don’t be scared of showing interest in the things she likes.”
He gives me a staggered look. “Are you saying…” He pauses and then lowers his voice. “Are you saying you wouldaccepther? In our pack?”
My smile is sly. “That, my dear alpha, is exactly what I’m saying.”
Thatcher blows out a low breath, a faint blush unfolding across his cheeks. “I thought wanting another omega would mess things up with you,” he admits.
“You,” I start, poking at his chest. “You are way more than you give yourself credit for. Seriously, all the stuff you’ve done for me these past few weeks… it has meant everything to me. You could never mess things up with me.”
Thatcher’s eyes gleam with something unspoken. Perhaps pride for his effort being acknowledged, but also embarrassment for me mentioning these things out loud.
“I just want to make up for all the idiocy this past year. For not realizing sooner that I wanted you—no,neededyou in my life.” His hand squeezes mine tighter like he’s afraid I’ll let go, but I have no intention ofeverdoing that.
“The entire year, or whatever you feel like you need to make up for, is forgiven. Ipromise.” My words seem to bring a new vitality to him as his shoulders physically relax and his eyes visibly brighten.
“Gosh.” He peers into me, an intensity that I’m not used to showing itself behind his eyes. “I don’t know how I never saw it.”
“Saw what?” I ask.
“That you’re a whirlwind,” he responds, his tone soft. “And you were always meant to push down my walls.”
His scent is the strongest I have ever smelled it, the cool mint covering me in a frost that I don’t want to ever let thaw. He looks to the side, then to my mouth, and then back to my eyes. I squint at him, trying to access the thoughts going through his head.
“What are you thinking about?” I ask softly.
He swallows. “Things that I’ve never really thought about before.”
My jaw drops slightly as I look at the beautiful specimen of a man beside me. His arms are pulsing, his veins protruding and tensing in a way that leaves my mouth dry. “Do you…” I trail off, trying to figure out how to approach this topic delicately. I lower my voice as I ask, “Has anyone ever gone down on you before, Thatcher?”
His eyes widen as he shakes his head, but his scent becomes so sweet. I let out a quiet groan at the presence of it.
“I want to be the first,” I say, my hand going into his T-shirt. “Will you let me?”
“No.”
I balk at his abrupt rejection, a twinge making its way to my heart just as Thatcher stands and pulls me from our spot. We move through the other people who were chilling in the room and make it to the bathroom down the hall, where he tugs me in and immediately locks the door.
