Page 99 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“Yes.”

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Pain?”

“No.”

Lincoln’s scent deepened. “Then why shower?”

“Because apparently pregnancy has turned my body into a badly supervised nightclub, and I need cold water before I do something compromising in a hallway.”

For one second, neither man spoke. Then Lincoln closed his eyes. Hudson looked at the floor.

“Don’t,” I said.

Hudson lifted his eyes. “Don’t what?”

“Enjoy my suffering.”

“I’d never.”

“That was very unconvincing.”

Lincoln’s voice had gone rough. “Love, we can leave you alone if that’s what you want.”

The offer landed softly, with no pressure and no assumption, not even with our joined scent and want hanging between us.

My grip on the robe loosened. “I know.”

That was the terrifying thing. I did know.

“I just need a shower,” I said. “Cold. Possibly Antarctic. If I don’t survive, tell Maeve I was brave and unreasonable to the end.”

Hudson’s mouth softened. “She knows.”

“Rude.” I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door before I could ask them to come in.

The cold shower helped. For eleven minutes. Then I went back to bed and discovered the nest still smelled like them, because blankets were traitors.

I tried to sleep. I shifted onto one side, then the other. Kicked off a blanket, then pulled it back. Pressed my face into Hudson’s scarf and immediately regretted every life choice that had led to my nose having access to him.

My body warmed again. It didn’t come sharply, but slowly and deeply, desire winding through my stomach, over my skin, between my thighs. I was tired. I was pregnant. I was frightened. I was also wanted, and the knowledge of it had become a hand at the back of my neck.

Late into the night, rain pattered against the window, and I gave up pretending.

I slid my hand beneath the waistband of my panties. The first touch made my breath catch. I bit my lip and closed my eyes.

This was mine. No heat, no panic, no hotel or coin toss. No pain driving me to decisions faster than my mind could follow. It was my body, my want, and the scents of two men who had made my fear feel less lonely.

I moved my fingers slowly, chasing the ache without rushing it. My other hand curled into Lincoln’s hoodie. The fabric smelled like him, warm and solid and too much. I imagined his hand over mine. Hudson’s mouth at my ear. Their voices, one rough, one controlled, both careful until I asked them not to be.

A knock came at the door just as my hips lifted.

I froze.

“Mary?” Lincoln’s voice came through the door, low and careful.