“Hey, princess,” Drake says with a wide grin. “Thought we’d check in, see how you’re settling in.”
“Oh, um, fine,” I stammer, my face heating under his playful gaze. “Just reading until Nora gets home.”
“Reading, huh?” Drake’s eyes flick to the book still open on my lap, then back to my face. “Must be a steamy one. Your cheeks are all flushed.”
Rowan’s eyebrows shoot up at Drake’s boldness, but I catch the slight curve of his lips. He’s amused by his brother’s flirtation with me.
“Just warm in here,” I lie, setting the book aside.
“You sure that’s all it is?” Drake perches on the arm of the window seat, close enough that his thigh brushes mine. “You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
“You’re in a good mood,” I observe, desperate to change the subject. “Any particular reason?”
His grin widens, green eyes sparkling with mischief. “Seeing you puts me in a good mood, Red.”
My face burns hotter at the admission.
“We thought you might want company,” Rowan says, his deep voice like velvet in the quiet room. “House can get lonely when everyone’s out.”
“That’s... thoughtful of you,” I say, genuinely touched by their consideration.
“Come sit with us,” Drake suggests, gesturing toward the small sofa across the room. “We could watch a movie or something until the munchkin gets home.”
I hesitate for a moment, then nod. As I follow them to the couch, I realize that with both of them here, I’m not technically breaking Kieran’s rule about being alone with just one alpha.
“Sit here,” Drake pats the space between them, and I lower myself cautiously onto the cushion. The couch isn’t very large, forcing us to sit close together. Drake’s thigh presses against mine on one side, Rowan’s on the other. I’m sandwiched between two massive alphas, their combined body heat and scent making my head spin.
“So how was your day?” Drake asks, draping his arm along the back of the couch, his fingertips just brushing my shoulder. “Besides getting Nora off to school.”
The image of Elias bending me over his dresser flashes through my mind, and I struggle to keep my expression neutral. “Fine. Good. She was easy to get ready, actually. No complaints about breakfast or brushing her teeth.”
“You have a natural way with her,” Rowan observes, his golden-brown eyes studying me with an intensity that makes my skin tingle. “You’d make a good mother someday.”
The comment catches me off guard, sending a rush of heat from my face all the way down to my core. My omega instincts respond strongly to the approval in his voice, to the implication that I’d be a worthy mate.
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I murmur, but inside I’m preening.
“You would,” Drake agrees, shifting closer. “Our pups would be gorgeous with your hair and eyes.”
Our pups. The casual possessiveness in his words makes my pussy clench with need. I press my thighs together, trying to relieve the building pressure, but it only makes it worse. I’m acutely aware of being trapped between them, of their muscular bodies hemming me in on both sides. Of how easily they could overpower me if they wanted to.
But they don’t need to. My body is surrendering willingly.
Drake’s hand moves from the back of the couch to my shoulder, his touch feather-light through the thin fabric of my blouse. “You seem tense. Want a massage?”
“That would be nice,” I whisper as Rowan puts on a movie.
His fingers work the muscles of my upper back, finding knots I didn’t even know were there. A small moan escapes me as he hits a particularly tight spot, and I feel both alphas stiffen slightly at the sound.
“That feel good?” he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave.
I nod, too caught up in sensation to speak. His hands are magic, and the more he massages me, the more tension accumulates in my pussy. When his thumbs brush the sides of my breasts, I know it’s no accident. And I don’t exactly stop him.
Rowan shifts beside me, turning to face me more directly. His large hand settles on my knee, warm and heavy through my skirt. “You seem tense, omega.”
Their touch is gentle but insistent, hands moving in tandem. Drake cups my breast through my blouse, his thumb grazing my nipple. Rowan’s hand slides higher on my thigh, stopping just short of where I’m aching for contact.
“We shouldn’t,” I protest weakly, even as I arch into their touch. “Kieran would…”
