Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
JESSE
The room was bright when Jesse woke up, unforgiving sun pouring through the window. They’d forgotten to draw the drapes last night.
Matt had been self-contained, right up until they got under the covers together and turned off the light.
Then he’d reached for Jesse and pulled him close, burying his face against Jesse’s neck and breathing deeply.
So deeply, like he was taking in Jesse’s scent, like Jesse was grounding him somehow.
Jesse, not knowing what else to do, held Matt in return no matter how uneven Matt’s breathing became.
Later, when Matt had fallen asleep in his arms, Jesse was left staring into the dark, trying to ignore his rumbling stomach, and wondering.
He’d thought Matt was—not perfect. He was way too bossy to be perfect.
But Jesse had never even guessed at the amount of pain he’d been hiding.
Matt had crafted a persona that fooled the world, and the fact he’d let Jesse see behind it…
The trust Matt must have in him left Jesse speechless.
Matt was still asleep, tangled around Jesse like an octopus who’d spotted dinner. Matt’s closeness, his warmth, his scent, the strength of his arms around Jesse and his legs tangled up with Jesse’s—they were all leading Jesse to a very definite conclusion as to what he needed this morning.
He wriggled slightly, seeing if he could work his hand down to his cock without having to shrug Matt off, and it was enough to wake Matt.
He blinked at Jesse, eyes sleepy and soft, his cheek lined with pillow creases, his hair messy, and he was perfect.
He was also waking up—that indefinable alpha coming into his eyes as he grew more alert, and he stiffened slightly in Jesse’s hold, as if he was remembering last night.
As if he was regretting being so vulnerable with Jesse.
Which made it the perfect moment for Jesse to roll his hips against Matt, letting him feel how hard he already was.
Jesse intended to stop Matt from retreating into his head, which he was learning was not a healthy place for Matt, and also get the good, hard fuck he was craving.
He couldn’t spot a single flaw in his plan.
Neither could Matt, it seemed, although he took his sweet time giving Jesse what he wanted.
He fingered Jesse until he was sobbing with it, swearing at Matt, demanding he get the fuck in there right now.
And gone was the somber, hurt man of yesterday—Matt was all sharp glinting eyes, scratchy stubble, and a wicked curve to his lips as Jesse flopped around like a landed fish under his attentions, trying and failing to get him to move things along.
“For fuck’s sake, Urban.”
Mat leaned forward and kissed him, the movement changing the angle of his fingers inside Jesse and prompting a sound Jesse would swear he’d never made before.
“Don’t you ever stop complaining?” Matt asked.
“Wouldn’t need to complain if you’d just—oh, fuck, yes.” Because Matt had withdrawn his fingers and was holding Jesse, lining himself up, the blunt head of his cock pushing just inside. “Fuck me.”
“God, you’re pushy,” Matt said, but the teasing glint in his eye became darker, more intense, and Jesse groaned long and low as Matt slid all the way home inside him.
Matt took his time, setting up a slow, steady, relentless rhythm until Jesse lost sense of everything except the way Matt’s cock felt deep inside him as Matt fucked him.
He came with Matt’s long fingers wrapped around his cock, wetness striping his chest as he rode the waves of pleasure that slammed into him, Matt fucking him all the way through it. Matt, over him and in him. Matt was everything he wanted and all that he needed.
And after Matt had come, burying his face into Jesse’s neck, breathing in like he could hold on forever, Jesse knew he should have felt trapped.
But this was different. The weight of Matt against him, the slow rise and fall of his breathing, the quiet in the room—it all felt right in a way Jesse didn’t have words for.
If he thought about it, that would scare the crap out of him, so he decided to ignore it.
Eventually, Matt stirred, pressing one last, lazy kiss to Jesse’s collarbone before rolling onto his back. Jesse stretched, grinning at the sound of Matt’s satisfied groan. His own body felt boneless, warm, half-asleep in the best possible way.
They should probably shower. Not yet, though, not while Matt was sprawled beside him, comfortable and relaxed. So different from the man who’d taken him to bed last night and held onto Jesse like he was the only thing stopping him from drowning.
* * *
When they finally got to the shower, they did so together.
At some point since yesterday, Matt had put out two towels.
Something inside Jesse twisted, and it didn’t matter that he’d decided to ignore it—he couldn’t overlook the instinct that had kept him safe all these years.
He was getting way too comfortable here.
But he didn’t want to leave Matt. Not yet.
He’d just need to remember not to relax. Not to get soft.
So long as he remembered that, he could stay a while longer, letting Matt rub body wash over him and kiss him softly under the falling water.
By the time they got to the kitchen, the entire pack was there, except for Christian.
When Jesse saw how everyone turned to Matt when he entered, he wondered if Matt’s absence at dinner the previous night had caused them to seek out their alpha this morning.
It was as if they needed his presence in order to feel safe.
It was as he’d thought—a pack was little more than a hivemind, controlled by their alpha. Though, as he snuck a glance at Karl, the only one whose eyes weren’t glued to Matt’s face, he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t imagine Karl needing Matt in order to feel safe.
“Morning,” Matt said, making tracks for the coffee machine. What a surprise.
What was a surprise was that he snagged a piece of bacon from Bryce’s plate on the way past.
“What the hell, Urban?” Bryce yelped, staring at his now-empty plate.
Matt chewed innocently, reaching for the coffee pot. “Alpha tax.”
“That’s not a thing,” Tristan said around a mouthful of waffle.
“It is now,” Matt said, stealing one of Tristan’s strawberries.
Jesse watched the exchange, barely suppressing a grin. He’d never seen Matt like this—a little smug, a lot obnoxious, and at ease in his own skin. For once, Matt wasn’t being alpha. He was just… Matt.
Jesse sat down, taking a couple of croissants from the plateful Dave offered him. Bryce had got up to help himself to more bacon, while Tristan was sharing the rumor a movie theater was going to open in town.
“Movies are losing money these days. No way anyone’s going to bankroll one in a place like Elk Ridge. Not unless they’re money laundering,” Dave said.
“Does it matter if they are, so long as they show movies?” Tristan asked. Hard to argue with that.
Bryce evidently disagreed. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear you say that, Tristan James Howe.” He was dressed for work, that uniform still doing unpleasant things to Jesse’s insides.
Matt pushed Jesse’s coffee across the table at him before walking over to Bryce. Without a word, he pulled him in close and hugged him, pressing a kiss to the side of his head.
When he pulled back, Bryce’s eyes were suspiciously bright. Jesse glanced away to give him privacy, something flickering sharp in his chest. It was like pack wasn’t just about loyalty and hierarchy, but love.
Bryce, recovering swiftly, swiped one of Jesse’s croissants before he saw it coming. Damn, he’d relaxed here. Also, it seemed like Matt’s obnoxiousness was catching.
Jesse scowled. “Do I look like I want to be fucked with?”
“Looks like you already were,” Bryce said with a wink.
Jesse nearly choked on his coffee. Fucking hell, Bryce. He slammed his mug down, about to snap back, when a movement from across the table caught his eye.
Matt was watching, amusement curling at the edges of his lips.
Not interfering, not offended that his sex life was the topic of conversation among his pack, but just enjoying the show.
The light in his eyes was different from anything Jesse had seen before—not controlled alpha or careful leader.
Just Matt, watching Jesse squirm and loving every minute of it.
Their gazes locked, and something flipped over in Jesse’s chest, hot and sudden, as they shared a moment that was just for them, in the middle of the pack.
And then Matt raised his mug to his lips and took a slow sip before turning to Dave. “How’s the fence coming?” he asked.
Dave launched into an update, one of a number of simultaneous conversations being held around the table. Jesse let the voices wash over him, concentrating on the warmth of the mug in his hands. It was weird, this rhythm of pack life—the way things overlapped, tangled, but somehow fit together.
“Hey, okay if I trade patrols next Saturday?” Tristan asked, glancing between Matt and Bryce with a hopeful grin once Matt had finished talking to Dave.
“It’s Axel’s birthday, and we’re going into Denver to one of those ax-throwing places.
We figured it’d be fun to let him feel like a Viking for the day. ”
Jesse had no idea who Axel was, but clearly the others did.
“Find someone willing to swap and you’re golden,” Bryce said. “Can’t be me—I have a date.”
“Is there a night you don’t?” Tristan asked. He glanced across the table at Jesse. “Would you mind, Jesse? I promise I’ll pick up one of yours.”
Jesse’s brain stuttered as he stared at Tristan. The mug in his hands was suddenly heavy and awkward, seeming to leach its warmth by the second. “I’m not—” he started.
Matt cut across him. “Jesse’s not pack,” he reminded Tristan.
And why did that hurt?
“But you and he—”