“Yes.”
One of his warm hands cups my jaw and cheek. His gaze roams my face, searching for something. I’m not sure what he sees—or smells, given the flaring of his nostrils—but he bends forward slowly enough I could pull away, were I minded to, and gives me a morning kiss. The kind of kiss that has me wishing we were back in bed instead of waiting on the oven timer to go off.
Which it doesn’t, yet.
The kiss lasts long, and I almost don’t notice Nathan and Dan arrive together, holding hands. Seems like we’re all in a cozy mood today, with long-sleeved casual shirts and loose pants. Nathan shaved his head; it’s still a little damp in spots. Dan, however, didn’t touch a razor—a two-day shadow darkens his chin.
They’re in time to see Corin draw back from kissing me, but neither moves forward.
My turn for action. I hand the spoon and yogurt container to Corin with a quick “You know what to do.”
By chance or because he’s standing just a hair in front of Dan, I head for Nathan first. His fragrance seems subdued—though what does my beta nose know? Yet his eyes are clearer than last night, if still a bit red-rimmed.
“Interested in a wake-up kiss and hug?”
I don’t kiss and tell. I don’t kiss and compare. Comparisons are odious and, in cases such as this, impossible.
Corin’s kiss was all Corin: mostly sure of himself and his welcome, taking things slow enough to know I’d have pulled away had I wanted. From there, it was just two mouths meeting and melding, bodies aligning.
Nathan’s face lights up at the offer and he’s all speed to take it up before it can be retracted. He holds me tight, as though I might dissolve if he lets go; his lips suck and pull as if needing reassurance that I’m here, with him, kissing him back.
It seems as though he’d kiss me forever if Dan’s cough and some irritated cat noises didn’t intervene.
Nathan grunts as he lets go and looks down at the smaller cat, whose front claws are caught in his pants.
“To be continued?” he asks.
I nod and watch as he heads to the far corner, where water dishes sit next to a bag clearly holding tins of food. If my gaze lingers on his throat, as well, and the two bond marks almost clearly revealed, no one calls me on it.
“Do I get a kiss and hug?” Dan asks, arms open, but making no move toward me.
I go to him and slide into an embrace both familiar and strange. The first man I loved—the first man I lost—now found again, yet he’s so cautious now. The gentlest of the three, he opts for several dozen light kisses, mostly on the lips, but some fall on my chin or neck. Maybe he even takes a nibble there, but with teeth well-covered by his lips.
When he pulls back, I keep a light hold of his arm.
“May I?”
He nods, and I roll up his sleeve to examine the mark. The teeth marks are still ruddy, but hints of silver and gold glimmer at the edges. When it heals fully, it will shine gloriously from the center of his forearm.
“You can touch it if you want,” he offers.
Yet, when I do, little more than a light brush of his heated skin, Dan shivers, his pupils expanding as his irises vanish.
A low growl draws my attention to the corner, where Nathan is scraping the contents of a can into two dishes. He glances my way, and his eyes match Dan’s.
As hunger for that kind of connection flares in me, until I run my tongue over my teeth.
Swallowing, I roll Dan’s sleeve back down, then frown because he doesn’t have anything to protect the wound from the cloth.
But when I ask if he needs a bandage, both he and Nathan shiver again.
“I’ll tend it a few more times. It should be healed by midday.” Nathan sets the dishes down and the cats swarm them. A fishy smell invades the kitchen, and the scent turns my stomach.
My expression or my scent must have betrayed my mixed feelings, because Corin comes up behind me and lays warm hands on my shoulders, bracing me as I lean back against him.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“I want this.” I wave at Dan’s arm, turning away from the cat food and inching closer to the oven.
