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A little make-up, some hair texturing spray… and I look just fine.
So, what is wrong?
Archer and Ronan clearly don’t feel it. They sit on either side of me, both lost in their phones. Ronan’s buzzes every fourteen seconds, and Archer has been typing up a detailed list of instructions for his subordinates for close to twenty minutes.
To keep myself from reading over his biceps, I opt for checking him out. He’s in work clothes—a pair of black slacks that highlight his height, and a spotless Ospreys polo that makes his dark skin glow.
I don’t often think about how good-looking Archer is—mostly because he’s usually so busy wowing me with his kindness and his brilliance, and there’s only so much a girl can obsess about at one time. But as his eyebrows furrow over the square rim of his glasses, it strikes me that he has a bone structure almost as perfect as Declan’s. And better lips for sure.
He finally hits send on his email and catches me staring. A stunning, white grin stretches over his face. “Come here, my love.”
I ignore the ridiculous squeeeeee in my heart at him calling me “his love.” Or I try to. Pretty sure the fact that I perfume a little bit might give me away.
His smile takes on a crooked air, telling me he absolutely knows exactly how he affects me. Long-fingered hands easily guide my legs over his lap, swiveling my butt on the plush leather seat.
My eyes flit to the driver chauffeuring us. I’m not used to having someone else in the car, but Ronan assured me it’s standard for gamedays and other big events. His driver has been with him for decades, apparently, and the partition is up… so I’m sure having my legs in Archer’s lap is no big deal.
But I’m still fighting that voice in my head that tells me this is rude and a little bit pathetic. After all, I spent the better part of a day in bed with this man. Why does my body still crave his touch so much?
Archer reads my face, his eyes filling with understanding. “It’s okay, Meg,” he murmurs. “Your touch starvation is advanced. You need a little extra affection and it’s our privilege to provide it for you. In fact, I’ll miss it when you want your personal space back.”
My cheeks heat. A weak smile pulls at my lips. “You’ll be sick of me by then.”
Archer shakes his head firmly. “No. I will be even more head-over-heels for you than I am now—and even better at showing you.”
He kisses my hand and gently sets it back on my lap. “I honestly cannot wait for your heat.”
An image of my sealed-off nest pops into my mind. I swallow a bolt of panic, my voice tightening. “Are you sure you want to?—”
Ronan zeros in on the topic of conversation. In a blink, his phone is silent and in his jacket pocket. “None of us have ever been more sure of anything, omega,” he replies, brokering no argument. “I had to arm wrestle Theo to get the rights to your first orgasm.”
Archer chuckles, glancing to his left. “And you lost, old man.”
Ronan flashes a rare grin. “Yeah, but I’m the boss. So I always win.”
I flick my wrist to smack him with the back of my hand, tutting, “Spoiled.”
A careful sort of silence balloons in the backseat. Archer clears his throat, speaking carefully. “We wanted to ask because we weren’t entirely sure… How do you feel about the nest issue after last night?”
Ah. So they think I might still change my mind about Declan. I told Archer that he and I had decided to step away from each other indefinitely. But I guess I haven’t exactly been the most stable or reliable lately.
Ronan senses a shift in my mood. His brawny hands cup my shoulders and guide my back into his chest while he tilts our way, effectively stretching my body out between theirs without ever undoing my seatbelt.
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” Ronan murmurs. “Whatever you feel is right for the nest is exactly right. “
“And that could change every day,” Archer adds, the matter-of-fact tone of his voice reassuring. “Which is why we will always wait to be invited in.”
I nod, but the taut feeling in my chest just keeps tweaking tighter.
Our alpha’s deep, jet-like purr vibrates into my back, unlocking the tension around my spine. “Relax, baby girl,” he directs, sliding his touch down my arms. “Shhh. Daddy’s here.”
The box is impossibly beautiful. Matte-black steel trim and pearly white walls; big leather chairs, and a long table with entirely too much food on it.
Archer pauses to turn a dial beside the entrance. The muted voices of commentators filter through the speakers built into the ceiling—just loud enough for me to hear what they’re saying when I tune in.
Which I may not be doing…
Ronan’s eyes are still hot on my back as he shuts the door behind the three of us and locks it. An excited quiver starts in my belly, but he pauses when he sees me facing the buffet—which, curiously, only contains my favorite foods.
