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“Yes, alpha,” I breathe, and he groans.
“Fuck, I love the sound of that. I’d love to press you into the sofa and take you right here and now, but…”
“But what?”
He chuckles at my eagerness, runs a hand through his hair. “Guys?”
Roman slides an arm around me, kisses my neck, startling another moan from me. “So responsive… Wanna kiss a beta, Sawyer, see how it’s different from kissing an alpha?”
“No,” I say, my voice husky, “but I wanna kiss you.”
“Sawyer,” he breathes, and then he hauls me into his lap, sliding his hands around my hips and to the small of my back. It has the strange effect of having me looking down at him, although he’s, in fact, taller than me.
I can look right into his velvet-dark eyes then I’m gazing at his full, sensual mouth, and I’m the one who kisses him. He tastes fresh and yet layered with a dark sweetness like molasses. So good. I want to kiss him all day. So different from kissing Archer—or Brinlee, a voice in the back of my mind whispers and regret follows the words—but I can’t stop to think too hard about it now.
Fucking finally. Something in my chest relaxes even as my gut tightens with desire. More heat flows through me, skitters over my skin.
When he pulls back, breaking the kiss, his eyes are like the black expanses of space, with distant stars twinkling in their depths. “Holy fuck,” he whispers. “That was…”
“Hot,” I breathe. “I want…”
“What do you want, Say? Tell us.”
I lift my gaze, and find Kyrian looking at me, fire in his eyes. It takes my breath away, literally, the tall, powerful alpha standing right there. The final member of the pack, the last piece to the puzzle.
I lift a hand and reach for him. “I want Kyrian to join us.”
“Yeah, Ky, stop hiding behind the sofa.” There’s laughter in Archer’s voice. “We can see you.”
“Very funny,” Kyrian grumbles, but I’m coming to realize that’s just how he is—a little grumpy, a little moody, but it’s not directed at me, rather than at life on the whole.
As he strides around the sofa to sit beside Roman—beside me—he’s looking serious but also excited, an openness to his expression and a bright light in his gaze.
He’s beautiful. I want to taste his mouth, run my hands through his short blond hair, over his massive shoulders. It’s like the more I kiss them, the more I touch them, the more I want.
The more I want them.
“Can I see your tattoos?” I breathe. “What are they?”
“Creatures from my favorite fantasy stories. I’ll show them to you, if you’re good,” Kyrian growls. “So how about that kiss?”
Damn, I’m feeling like a kid at Christmas. “Coming right up,” I whisper.
“With whipped cream and a cherry on top,” he goes on, and I snicker as I crawl from Roman’s lap—almost ending his prospects at fatherhood with a knee to his dick, barely avoided—to reach Kyrian.
“Come here.” Kyrian grins, and it’s so gorgeous I have to grin back. He’s easily the most handsome of the three, though it’s unfair to compare them. Archer has that classic dark alpha power, and Roman that beta elegance and fineness about him.
But Kyrian is brute force, and that speaks to me, too. His strong hands grab my ass and press me to him—to his huge hard-on, to be precise, startling a gasp from my throat. “Kissy-kissy.”
Another snicker escapes me—who knew Kyrian was so funny?—but it’s smothered by his hard mouth.
And… bye, bye brain, it’s been nice knowing you.
It’s not just him, I have just enough presence of mind to note, although holy hell, the man can kiss. Lips and teeth and tongue and that taste that hits me right in the gut, that power in his hands as he holds me still, so carefully leashed…
But yeah, it’s the three of them, one after the other, breaking down whatever rational defense I’ve put up to keep them away.
Fuck the café.
