Behind him, Judah hesitates.
I can feel it even with my eyes closed. The uncertainty radiating off him in waves. He's been part of this pack for months now, but there's still a part of him that doesn't quite believe he belongs. That expects to wake up and find it was all a dream.
Not today.
I extend one hand toward him without lifting my face from Mason's neck. Palm up. An invitation.
The silence stretches long enough that I start to worry I've miscalculated. That maybe he isn't ready, maybe we pushed too fast, maybe?—
His fingers close around mine.
Rough calluses. The faint smell of salt that never quite washes away, even months removed from the harbor. And underneath it, that deep ocean scent that makes something ancient in my hindbrain purr with satisfaction.
I pull him onto the bed.
Judah comes willingly, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settles on my other side. For a moment, we just breathe together. Three bodies in a nest built for five, the heat humming under my skin like a live wire.
Then I turn.
Judah's ocean-blue eyes meet mine, and I see everything he isn't saying. The hope he's afraid to let himself feel. The love he's convinced he doesn't deserve.
I cup his face in my hands and kiss him.
Soft at first. Gentle. A question more than a demand. His breath catches against my mouth, his hands hovering uncertain at my waist, and I feel the exact moment he stops thinking and starts feeling.
He kisses me back.
Not gentle anymore. Desperate, hungry, the kiss of a man who's been starving for years and finally found food. His hands slide up my sides, fingers spreading wide like he's trying to touch as much of me as possible. I arch into him, pressing closer, and the sound he makes—this low, broken groan—goes straight to my core.
Behind me, Mason shifts.
His chest presses against my back, solid and warm. His mouth finds the curve of my neck, tracing a path from my shoulder to the sensitive spot below my ear. One hand slides around to palm my breast, thumb circling my nipple until it peaks under his touch.
I'm caught between them.
Mason at my back, Judah at my front, their hands mapping my body like they're learning me for the first time. The sensation is overwhelming—too much and not enough all at once.
I break the kiss with Judah, gasping for air.
His lips trail down my throat instead, teeth scraping lightly over my collarbone. Behind me, Mason's hand slides lower, over the curve of my stomach, between my thighs.
I cry out as his fingers find me slick and aching.
He strokes once, twice, building pressure without relief. My hips rock against his hand, seeking more friction, but he keeps his touch maddeningly light.
Judah pulls back enough to watch. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, tracking the movement of Mason's hand with naked hunger.
Mason's fingers never stop moving, working me with a rhythm that makes my vision blur. I feel Judah's hands tighten on my hips, his cock hard and hot against my thigh, and the anticipation makes me shake.
I turn my head, seeking Mason's mouth.
He kisses me deep, swallowing my moan as Judah finally pushes inside me.
The stretch makes my breath stutter. Judah is big—filling me in a way that makes my whole body clench. His hands grip my hips, holding me steady as he seats himself fully, and the sound that escapes him is barely human. A low, shattered groan that vibrates through his chest and into mine.
For a moment, we hold there. Connected. Breathing.
Then Mason's hand slides from between my thighs to my hip, steadying me. I feel him shift behind me, feel the blunt pressure of him against my other entrance, and realize?—
