Logan's arm tightens around my shoulders, pulling me closer against his side. "For the wedding? Yeah. She needs the money too much to leave, because the last wedding she planned ended up being a disaster and she had loads of cancellations.”
"After the wedding?" I press.
"We'll probably prove that some things are too broken to fix, no matter how much you want them to work," Logan predicts.
Less than two months to convince Savannah that we've grown into men worth her time and attention. Two months to prove that our pack can function with an omega instead of falling apart under the pressure.
"Get some sleep," Logan urges, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "Tomorrow's going to be complicated enough without adding sleep deprivation to the mix."
"Coming with me?" I grunt.
"Wouldn't want you to sleepwalk into anyone else's bedroom," Logan says with that smart-ass grin of his.
We head to my room. Logan flops down next to me, and I stare at the ceiling, pissed off. Two months. That's what we've got to prove ourselves to Savannah, and we keep screwing it up every damn day.
She thinks we're too much trouble. Hell, maybe she's right. Every time we try to act like grown men instead of idiots, something goes sideways.
I roll over with a frustrated growl. Part of me wants to say screw it - let her keep running. But the other part...
Dammit. I'm wearing these stupid pajama pants every night now because she's under our roof, and somehow that matters. Which pisses me off even more because it means she's already gotten to us.
Two months isn't gonna be enough. Not with how we keep stepping on our own dicks every time we get close.
But I'm not giving up. Even if it kills me, we're gonna figure this out.
13
SAVANNAH
I'm having my second cup of coffee at the kitchen island, trying to process the size of Griff's dick. I couldn't sleep. I had visions of me holding it, but then needing two hands. Putting it in my mouth and choking to death. It's huge, as if it were an aerial and just trying to get a signal to my bed. I need an emergency girlfriend consultation. I can't plan the wedding or even think about anything else without thinking about that huge knot and cock inside of me. I haven't thought about sex in months. No, years. A side effect of my suppressants, which was that it could remove all sexual urges, but now it is the only thing on my mind.
Me: Emma. Emergency. Griff is... BIG. Like, really big.
Emma: Yeah, he used to play football in high school. Built like a linebacker.
Me: Not what I meant.
Emma: Oh. OH. How do you know?
Me: Found out last night.
Emma: How many inches are we talking?
Me: I didn't exactly break out a measuring tape in the middle of the night.
Emma: Fair point. Is he home right now?
Me: Yeah, why?
Emma: Be there at 10.
I stare at my phone. "Be there at 10?" What is she planning to do, conduct a scientific survey? The woman is getting married in less than two months, for crying out loud, and so far I haven’t done much. Living with three alphas is a lot more distracting than I thought it would be.
Ten minutes later, Emma bursts through the front door like she's responding to a fire alarm. Her dark hair is in a messy bun, she's wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweater, and she has the determined expression of someone on a very specific mission.
"Where is he?" Emma demands, dropping her purse on the counter.
"Emma, what are you doing here?" I ask.
