Page 102 of All Packed Up

“I—uhm…” Wendy didn’t know how to put it into words. How guilt prickled thorns wrapped themselves around her heart and made her stop.

Her core throbbed and her hands itched to trace every inch of Tate’s warm, smooth skin. But that stupid voice inside her head wasn’t being fair.

“Do you want me to wear the face thing?” Tate asked.

No, she didn’t. Wendy just wanted sleepy morning kisses and a messy grind to a lazy orgasm. She didn’t want Tate to have to put on a stupid muzzle just so she’d feel better. Why did she feel this way at all? Wendy huffed.

Why did those fucking alphas still have this power over her?

She recognized her irritation for what it was: a symptom of her oncoming heat. Rationalizing with herself, she sucked in a breath and prepared to try and put her thoughts into words.

Rolling to her back, Wendy sighed and turned her head to the right to meet Tate’s gaze. Movement behind him caught her eye, and a palm slid over his shoulder and tugged. Tate went with the demand, slowly lowering to his back, and Wendy lifted again, an apology poised on her lips for waking the beta up.

Nic was lying on his stomach on the other side of Tate and curled a sleepy smile at her. “We’ve got you.” His voice was raspy from sleep, and it sent a lick of heat through her.

Her attention snapped back to his hand as he trailed it over Tate’s shoulder and up his neck, sliding into place over his lips.

Wendy felt her eyes widen, a spear of heat in her core.

“Is that okay?” she breathed, placing her left palm down to lift herself up, shifting closer to Tate.

In answer, he nodded with the give of Nic’s hand and slid his hand to her left hip, wrapping his fingers around her waist and tugging her closer.

Wendy followed, straddling one of his thighs and slotting her knee between his legs. He was still hard in his boxers, and as her knee brushed him, Wendy watched a shiver trail down his body. Tate was still so very into this.

And Wendy couldn’t lie to herself. Nic’s hand looked utterly sinful holding Tate’s head to the mattress.

Planting her palms over his sternum, she paused one more time and met his blue gaze. His brows lifted in question.

“Are you sure this is okay?” she whispered.

Tate tapped Nic’s hand and made room to speak. “Babes, this isn’t even the kinkiest thing I’ve done. You don’t have to worry.”

He even rolled his hips, and Wendy’s cheeks flushed. Tate was so shameless, so open. And she was so very into it. Into him.

“Babes, huh?” she teased.

Tate tilted his head to the side in thought as Nic chuckled before trying to cover it with a cough. Tate’s brows furrowed as his gaze slid to Nic suspiciously, but Wendy saw the mirth in his gaze, recognized the crow’s feet around Tate’s eyes that only carved themselves out when his smile chiseled them.

Wendy settled her weight over Tate’s thigh and dropped down, hyperaware of how wet her panties were. But Tate was oh so warm, from the fire and from being buried under blankets and twined with her and Nic and Griffith and Arlo all night long.

The latter of which were gone and couldn’t be heard throughout the house. Wendy couldn’t separate a brain cell to contemplate where they’d gone for long, because Tate rolled his hips up, knocking her off balance and throwing more of her weight on him.

One of her palms was centered on his sternum and the other was on his right hip. His flat, toned stomach was bare beneath her where she’d lifted his shirt.

“Don’t be shy,” Nic said.

His voice scratched along her senses, the knowledge that he was there and watching so brazenly making the flush on her cheeks glow.

Even Tate wasn’t unaffected, his own chest reddening beneath the morning light streaking through the blinds. His hands gripped her hips, experimentally dragging her along the muscle of his thigh.

The next time he pulled her closer, she moved with him, carefully settling more of her weight into her palm so she could rock her hips against him.

Wendy’s lips parted as the friction ground perfectly against her clit. Heat washed anew within her, and as she rolled her hips, Tate rocked up into her with all the laziness of a perfect morning.

The embers of the fire still burned behind her, hotter than ever, and she was slowly working herself up to match. Lowering herself, she nipped Tate’s chest, which was a little vulnerable, just as if she’d turned her back to him. But with Nic involved, protecting her, she relaxed and paid Tate all the attention he deserved for playing with her.

Her core clenched as she slowly closed her teeth around a nipple and tugged a groan out of Tate. It was muffled by Nic’s hand, and Wendy lifted up a bit to judge Tate’s reaction. His eyes were closed, but they fluttered open as she stopped teasing his chest.