Page 166 of All Packed Up

The earthy smoke slid down her throat and settled in her lungs before she blew it out, watching her cloud mix with the haze. Blush colored spring and fresh cornbread threaded with the rich scents of Tate and Arlo and her own sweet plum.

Wendy suddenly felt shy before all of their gazes, but with the comforting heaviness that came with the high, she followed her instincts. As she scooted closer to pass the joint, she sidled up between the men she’d chosen to spend her heat with.

Something like butterflies fluttered in her stomach.

She laid her head on Nic’s lap, the comfiest thigh pillow. Tate’s thigh was all muscle, which was hot as hell, but wasn’t as comfy. She nudged him with her foot and smiled as he took the joint from her fingers.

Her skin seemed to settle for the moment, and she reveled in the ease of lying against the blankets. With the hand that wasn’t occupied, Tate traced little circles into her calf.

Nic petted her, stroking her hair, and she blinked up at his strong profile.

With her head on Nic’s left thigh, she stretched out, and Arlo scooted closer, facing Tate and accepting the joint as her other alpha passed it.

Since they were courting her, was she allowed to call them hers?

It felt more right than anything else, but she kept that to herself for now.

Wendy was basically in the middle, watching them pass the joint back and forth over her head. As the smoke in the tent grew thicker, Wendy relaxed more. And as she sank deeper into the mattress, deeper into Nic’s thigh, her heat simmered warmer.

But it was a lazy, whiny warmth, so she closed her eyes, ignored it for the moment. Arlo’s and Tate’s fingers drew gentle patterns on her skin, while Nic combed his hand through her locks, always with the hand not occupied. They traded between hits, and Wendy blinked her eyes open as they changed again. Something about watching their fingers brush together. Tate’s hands were a little calloused, littered in healed over cat scratches and veined in the way that made Wendy’s thighs clench.

Arlo’s hands were remarkably softer, fingers a little slimmer, and drifted over her skin in a heavenly caress.

Nic’s fingers slid through her hair, and even though she couldn’t see his hands, she could imagine them, knew what they felt like inside her.

The clouds swirled with another exhale at the same time someone brushed their fingers over the peak of her breast. She jolted at the contact, sucked her lip between her teeth. Chills spread out from the tease, but by the time she glanced down to figure out who it was, they’d moved again.

She watched Nic accept the joint from Tate, their fingers brushing, and suddenly she wanted nothing more than those fingers on her. In her. Between her lips and then have them stretch her open and—

“Wendy.”

She blinked, stared up at the alphas, at Nic, realized her breathing was shallow and her heart was pounding, and she was hot like she hadn’t been lying down for the past twenty minutes.

“Drink a little bit first.” Griffith’s voice rang out. His voice was soft, but it surprised her no less. He was such a quiet alpha even though his scent was the strongest, the thickest. Her mouth watered, and she sat up and accepted the chilled glass from him. It felt wonderful against her hand, and she pressed it against her cheek before she took a sip from the straw. Icy, cool water hit her tongue, as did the muted fruit flavors. A collection of berries floated around with the ice.

There was a weird tension in the tent, a pause. No, it was the anticipation, bated breath and shared glances as she sipped from the glass. She speared a strawberry with the straw after a few tries and brought it to her lips.

The tangy sweetness of it made her jaw tingle, and she shivered before taking a few more sips, eating a few more pieces of the fruit. She swiped a thumb over her lips to gather the few drops of water she’d missed.

“Good girl,” he whispered, and her mouth went dry as she met his gaze.

“It’s… really good,” she admitted.

Good girl.

The words might as well have been a lit up marquee for how loud they seemed.

“Grif made some for all of us, so there’s plenty,” Nic explained, cheeks flushing with color.

A lazy, knowing smile curled her lips. Nic was a praise slut, it didn’t seem to matter who it was aimed at. Or maybe he just wanted to be praised by the alpha.

Her gaze got stuck on him. Griffith. Of course he made the pretty drink and made sure everyone had some. The image of the burly alpha cutting up strawberries for her made her stomach flutter.

Alpha.

There were alphas and a beta right in front of her, and Wendy gave into the itch under her skin, the wetness between her thighs, and crawled into Nic’s lap.

“Hi,” he said softly, meeting her gaze.