Page 103 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

She looked down at his broad hand resting over the robe, low on her belly.

“No.” Her hand covered his.

“No, it’s just...” She swallowed. “There are two of them.”

Lincoln’s voice roughened. “Aye.”

“And I still feel like me.”

I touched her face. “You’re still you.”

“With passengers.”

“Very small passengers,” Lincoln said.

“Demanding passengers.”

“We’re here to help carry the load.”

She huffed a laugh, and some of the fear left her shoulders. I kissed her forehead.

Lincoln came around and kissed her stomach through the robe.

Mary’s breath caught hard.

He stayed there, broad shoulders bent, one hand on her hip, mouth pressed to the place where our children were growing.

Her eyes filled. “Don’t make it sentimental,” she whispered.

Lincoln looked up. “It’s our future. Our babies. Our omega is carrying our babies.”

Her mouth trembled and I kissed her before she could apologize for feeling.

The robe came loose under my hands. I moved slowly, giving her time, and she let it fall open. Beneath it, she wore a soft sleep tank and panties. Ordinary. Pale blue. A little wrinkled. A lot wet.

The sight hit me harder than any lace could have.

Mary crossed one arm over her chest.

I caught her wrist gently. “Don’t hide from us.”

Her eyes narrowed despite the blush. “Better.”

The laugh got out of me before I could stop it.

Lincoln’s hand moved up her side, not touching her breast, just following the line of her ribs. “You’re beautiful.”

She looked away.

I turned her face back. “Stay with us. And believe us.”

“I’m here.”

“Here,” I said, tapping lightly beneath her chin. “Not in whatever room you go to when you think we see you in a different way than you do.”

Her eyes glistened. “That room has excellent locks.”

“And we’ll wait outside it as long as necessary. As long as it takes for you to believe.”