A slow smile breaks across her swollen lips. “I think next time, we find a position that allows us both to watch.”
Lark
Silas walks me into the restaurant like I’m some celebrity with a stalker. Which is ridiculous. I’m meeting my best friend for tacos.
“Silas,” I say under my breath as we step inside, “you do realize this is a Mexican restaurant and not a mob meetup, right?”
His hand settles at the small of my back. “Humor me, little bird,” he says quietly. “Until your heat passes, you don’t go anywhere alone.”
I open my mouth to argue. Then I see Cammie’s blonde bob peeking out over the top of a booth. She’s already sitting at a table with a sequined headband, a silk slip dress, and her neon sneakers. She’s holding a margarita in front of her and there’s another one waiting across from it. She lifts the glass in greeting.
“Well, hello, beautiful people.”
Silas guides me to the table. Cammie looks him up and down with zero shame. I wait for my omega to roar to life, but she only purrs. She knows now that he’s all ours. Besides, it’s just Cammie.
“If I’d known you were coming, big guy, I would have ordered you a margarita too.”
Silas’s mouth twitches. Graham is still a little intimidated by Cammie. She’s a ball of energy and demands. But Silas thinks she’s funny. Which I love. She’s been the only steady person in my life for years. It’s important to me that my pack likes her.
“I won’t intrude,” he says. Then he bends slightly, pressing his neck briefly into my cheek. My stomach flutters. There’s nothing subtle about his scent mark and I love it. Cammie’s eyes go slightly wide. I ignore her.
When he straightens, his hand brushes my shoulder once before he gestures toward the bar. “I’ll be right over there.”
He walks off to a high-top a few yards away near the bar, close enough that he can see me clearly. Cammie watches him go. Then she slowly turns back to me.
“Please tell me that man has finally given in on his heroic refusal to fuck you.” I make a face. Cammie snorts. Then we both dissolve into laughter.
“Oh my god,” I groan, dropping onto the bench across from her.
“Seriously though,” she says once she recovers. “How are you standing it?”
I take a sip of my margarita. It’s strong. Bless this place.
“I think he has it worse than I do,” I admit.
Cammie raises an eyebrow. “Blue ballsarethe worst,” she says solemnly. “Or so I hear.”
We both start giggling again.
After a moment she wipes her eyes and lifts her glass. “To unresolved sexual tension.”
We clink glasses. "To unresolved sexual tension."
We drink.
I'm aware that Silas can probably see us toasting from his table. Then Cammie leans forward, eyes bright, and I stop thinking about it. “Okay,” she says. “Start talking.”
“About what?”
“Everything,” she says. “We haven’t had genuine girl time in a week! What have the hot alphas been doing?”
I sigh dramatically. “Well… we went to dinner last night. As a pack.”
Her eyes widen. “Where?”
“Chef Pascal’s.”
Cammie slaps the table. “I hate you.”
