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Archer’s slept in. I can’t remember the last time that happened.
I expected Meg to do the same. As soon as we got home last night, she jumped out of the backseat and raced into the house in nothing but panties and her sports bra, calling out something about needing to sleep.
I paced outside her guest room for a while and debated going in. But it was her first night staying in the house since she agreed to court us. I didn’t want to crowd her, no matter how much I hated having her in the guest room instead of the pack wing.
A situation I’ve already remedied with calls to the furniture and nesting stores. Each assured me all of the things for her suite will arrive before dinner.
As I observe silently, Meg scampers across the floor to the coffee maker. Between her halo of messy blonde hair and her beautiful bare face, she looks like a fucking angel this morning. Thin silk pajamas only add to the effect. I recognize the white loungewear set from the boutique we visited last night. One of the others must have hung it on her door this morning before I got up.
It’s only been a couple of weeks, but I’m beginning to understand everything I’ve ever read about omegas and pack cohesion. Already, I find myself appreciating the other guys more and more. Every time one of them thinks of her before I do or gives her something I can’t, my respect for them grows. I’m proud of how caring Archer is; how nurturing Theo’s turned out to be. And Declan…
If jerking off his packmate isn’t teamwork, I don’t know what is.
“Good morning, little one.”
Meg jumps when she hears me, her blue eyes as wide as saucers. When she finds me grinning at her, she quickly brushes a few loose strands of hair off her face.
“Oh. Good morning.”
She shuffles over, head bowed. I don’t understand her posture or her expression. Why is she slinking around like this? Was she hoping no one would see her?
I set my coffee on the table as she folds herself into the bench seat across from me. Every motion screams her discomfort.
What do I do?
This isn’t my strong suit. Emotions and uncertainty both make me twitchy.
“The offices are empty since it’s the weekend; it should be safer for you. I was going to ask if you wanted to come in with me to go over all of the new marketing materials you created this week.”
“Oh,” she says again, blinking her beautiful azure eyes. “I forgot all about that after… everything.”
I feel my mouth quirk up, along with an eyebrow. “Are you embarrassed, little one?”
Meg’s face flushes pink. Her fingers twitch around her coffee while she sinks her top teeth into the side of her lower lip. “Me? Embarrassed? About the—the?—”
She’s so cute. I fight a bigger smile, not wanting to taunt her. Setting my coffee aside, I start slowly leaning across the tabletop. “I’m referring to the living wet dream that occurred in Theo’s car.”
Meg’s eyes darken. She skirts them down to where her fingers clutch her mug.
Fuck. I’m making this worse.
Where the hell is Archer?
I stare across the breakfast table, watching my pretty girl shrink in on herself. How can I convince her that all of us are fine with what happened? Better than fine. Ecstatic.
What went down between the three of them in the backseat last night is everything we’ve ever wanted. She’s already mending rifts and bringing us together. Effortlessly.
She’s such a gift. I spend most of our time convincing myself she’s actually here. The fact that she wants all of us even a fraction as much as we want her is a goddamn miracle.
And who taught her to be ashamed of this shit anyway?
She was made to be cared for and worshipped, exactly the way Archer and Declan did last night. Why is she so embarrassed about that?
My instincts rise up, urgency snapping through my blood. “Come here.”
Her unmarked throat works over a swallow. When she’s within reach, I pull her sideways onto my lap and wrap my hand around her jaw.
Our eyes lock. Her pupils bloom and contract, reacting to the threat of meeting an alpha’s gaze head-on. Something catches in my chest; the nag painful and unfamiliar.
