Arden was sitting in the middle of Jack’s—their—bed. He was crosslegged, had a pillow clutched to his stomach, and his eyes were enormous. His smile was…well.
It was a good effort.
“Hello,” he said.
CHAPTER 38
BECKETT
Every muscle in Beckett tightened. Every sense went on alert. His omega was right there, in touching distance. He was naked, he was willing, he was?—
Jack’s.
Right now, he was Jack’s.
He’d be Beckett’s later, but right now, he was Jack’s.
Behind him, Jack had gone just as still and focused.
Arden’s wide-eyed gaze went from Beckett’s face to Jack’s and back again, then dropped to the coverlet. “Is it…? I did knock,” he offered. “And you were…you said it was all right for me to come in any time, so I did, and you were…” He shuffled about with discomfort. “In the dressing room. So I thought I’d sit and wait.”
Jack’s breathing was loud and rough as he stepped out from behind Beckett.
Arden gasped and clapped his hand over his eyes.
He just as quickly parted his fingers for a quick peek, and snapped them shut again.
Jack and Beckett exchanged smiles and strode over to the bed.
Arden peeked again. When he saw them coming, he gave another breathless little gasp, this one tinged with delight. He tossed the pillow and scrambled backwards.
Though he didn’t like to fight, he was awful fond of being chased, Beckett thought, flashing back to that day on the beach when he’d chased Arden all over, and their omega had shrieked with happiness and rushed around, making sure to slow down when Beckett took too long to catch him.
Arden’s attention bounced between Jack and Beckett. It settled on Jack, obviously, what with Jack on the move and heading for Arden cock first, but it meant something that Arden still checked in with Beckett.
Jack reached the side of the bed, grabbed one of Arden’s ankles, and hauled him down the mattress.
Arden’s hair spread around him in a gingery little halo and he’d gone limp as soon as Jack touched him, so his arms came to rest either side of his head. His hands opened and closed. Not fretfully. In anticipation.
Leaning down, Jack planted his bunched fists either side of Arden’s hips and arched over him. Arden’s narrow chest rose and fell quickly.
“I want you against the pillows,” Jack ground out.
Arden, thinking Jack was talking to him, attempted to scoot himself backwards. Jack stopped him, shifting his braced arms closer together to trap Arden’s hips.
Beckett didn’t hang about. He strode to the head of the enormous bed and hopped on, plumping up the pillows behind him and getting himself comfortable.
Arden tipped his head back to watch Beckett go. Jack didn’t give Beckett a second look—his focus had arrowed straight to the throat innocently offered up to him. He laid his lips to the exposed arch.
“Oh,” Arden gasped.
Jack slid a hand between Arden and the mattress, cradling the back of his head, and held him there as he laid a necklace of kisses over Arden’s throat.
Arden gripped fistfuls of Jack’s hair even as he hitched a leg up around Jack’s hip. Or tried to, at any rate. He was too short, and with Jack hovering over him, he couldn’t quite reach.
Jack lifted away and glanced up at Beckett. He couldn’t look boyish if he tried, not with a hawk face like that, but he looked as wild and free as Beckett had ever seen him. “Pull him up there with you,” he said.
Beckett got on his knees, slipped his hands under Arden’s arms, and dragged him over the mattress, a reverse of what Jack had done earlier. He did it slowly, so Arden huffed and writhed over the silk coverlet.
