Chapter 52
chapter
fifty-two
“Ah, fuck.”
Underneath me, Dante snickers. He holds out the hand currently not teasing the waistband of my cut-offs and wiggles his fingers. “Pay up, Pops.”
Adrian glares, pulling a money clip out of his back pocket. For the fourth time in twenty minutes.
To be fair, this is only the third bet he’s lost to Dante since we sat down. The first time he fished out his money-clip, he was paying for all the food spread across our picnic table.
I’m still amazed by the selection and quality. Every type of bar food or traditional ballgame fare you could think of—jumbo hot dogs, buttery bins of popcorn, churros, cheese fries, and giant turkey legs.
The guys wolfed down two of those apiece before Dante started trying to sneak bites of my funnel cake. I slap at his wrist, nearly guffawing when his eyes widen in faux innocence. “What?!” he asks. “I was getting a bite for you .”
“Oh yeah sure ,” I toss back, snapping the crispy fried dough from his outstretched fingers with my teeth.
He watches my mouth while I chew, the sweet succulence of mango swelling around me. Its flavor teases my tongue when he plants a playful, smacking kiss on my lips.
Mm . He tastes great with funnel cake, actually. We might have a new midnight snack recipe on our hands.
Or breakfast… or an afternoon snack…
Basically, Dante’s promise of “anytime, anywhere” has proven to be a lot more literal than I ever imagined.
The man is insatiable. And the way he comes for me—so spontaneous, always burning with the same carnal need —is heady.
I’m starting to think I might be addicted to feeling so insanely desired.
He isn’t the only alpha in the house who’s feeding my newfound compulsion.
Turns out our shy, sweet pitcher has his own brand of sensual urgency—and it involves taking me in the most borderline-public place he can get away with.
Our garage gym, the hammock in my backyard.
And, in one particularly impressive feat, the backseat of Dante’s Escalade while we sat in traffic.
Adrian doesn’t love it, but his disapproval usually leads to the most delicious “lessons.” Never punishments, exactly, but the sorts of mind-bending commands that truly give him the air of a king.
And when I please him? My rewards are certainly fit for a queen.
Colt is the only one who’s continued to hold back, physically. He still steals my books, lies on the couch with me in the afternoons, and pretends he isn’t halfway in love with Munchies.
Honestly? I’m pleasantly surprised by how intimate we’ve become. Even if my Omega has taken to hoarding his clothes for our nest, needing him closer .
She’s sort of done that for all of them, actually.
But I guess what they don’t know won’t hurt them?
Or humiliate me…
Jesse is still pouting when he trudges back from the edge of our cage. He sets his helmet on the bench next to him and stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth.
“Eating your feelings, Jess?” Colt taunts dryly, turning the page of his latest book. He glances up just long enough to smirk. “You know Dante always wins.”
Adrian drops into the spot beside me, shaking his head. “Every damn time.”
In a tank top with ripped armholes and a matching set of gray joggers, our pack alpha seems younger and more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. Striking aqua eyes glint at me from under the rim of his Kings hat. “Your turn, little blue. I put some money on you, too.”
I flash him a grin. “Well, that was just stupid.”
All the alphas crack up, even Adrian. Their leader’s deep, velvet laugh might be my favorite sound. It warms my belly every bit as much as his heated gaze.
He reaches for Jesse’s helmet, setting it on my head and tilting his chin at the makeshift “plate” we’ve been swinging from. “Make me proud, sweetheart.”
My insides quiver and melt. And—thanks to the two ballpark beers I’ve shared with Jesse—I barely feel embarrassed when my perfume follows me to the edge of our cage.
This place is brilliant. Like Top Golf, but for baseball. Three floors of batting cages, built to open up onto an enormous lawn with posts demarcating different ranges. The ball machines hang from eaves, shooting balls with some sort of sensor magic that pitches them perfectly every time.
Allegedly .
I haven’t hit a single ball, and Jesse hasn’t done so hot either. Though he made sure to whisper in my ear and tell me it was my fault for draining him dry when he got home from practice earlier.
When we arrived, Adrian explained that he had public cages built into the side of King Stadium last year to generate revenue seven days a week, not just on game days.
Although the idea was inspired—and proves just how business and baseball savvy Adrian is—their pack alpha isn’t the reason we ended up here.
It was all of them .
The moment I walked in the door, the four alphas started rushing me right back toward it. They all seemed a bit on edge, but when they suggested changing into comfortable clothes and coming here , I just went with it.
I figure, if they plan on having a serious discussion of some sort, at least I’ll get to hit something first.
If I can hit anything.
I might be utter crap at batting, but the view up here is gorgeous. In the distance, the cloudy sky has given way to another spectacular sunset. Big puffy collections of cumulonimbus glow tangerine, framed by pink wisps and purple cirrus.
I smile to myself, snatching the bat Jesse just dropped against the link fence surrounding our cage. As the first pitch whizzes past me, I decide it doesn’t matter how terrible I am at this. The view and the snacks more than make up for it.
More importantly, the guys are happy here.
Despite whatever tension clogged my living room before we left, Dante’s been his usual ham-sandwich self—striking poses and scoring cash off the others when he kicks their asses at batting.
Colt brought a book since he can’t swing or drink, but he’s also made more jokes and eaten more food than I’ve ever seen before.
Jesse may pout about losing to Dante, but his scent is sweet, and I know the shy smile on his face is real. The polite, phony version he saves for the rest of the world hasn’t made one single appearance.
Of all these alphas, though, I think tonight looks the best on Adrian.
His total contentment is palpable. As long as his packmates are happy, he’s completely at ease.
Well, his packmates and me .
The baseball’s already cleared my shoulder, but he still snaps a soft bark. “ Careful , little blue.”
Oof . That definitely doesn’t help the whole jiggly-melty-middle thing.
Neither does Dante’s quiet, cocky chuckle. “Come here, querida .”
He appears at my back, bending his knees to wrap his arms around my shorter frame. His rich tan skin shines under the sunset and the stadium lights overhead. Brawny hands flex over mine.
The alpha’s voice finds my ear, as low and dark as his laugh. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs, nipping at my earlobe. “Relax for me.”
I don’t have much choice, given my spine is sort of melting into his abs. A second later, a ball comes down the chute. All the strength around me flexes as Dante strikes.
The motion is so fluid, it actually feels natural. Even to me. A metallic zing cracks up my wrists as the bat makes contact and sends our ball flying into the “outfield.” Jesse cheers, and Adrian applauds.
Dante rubs his cheek along mine, scent-marking. “See? You’re a natural.”
I smile up at him. “I think you’re a natural, slugger. I just look good holding a bat.”
His hands drop to my hips, pulling me against the bulge in his loose black shorts. “Mm, you sure do.”
Oh hell. These men .
How is a girl supposed to keep from dribbling into a puddle?
Dante reaches for his pocket and retrieves the money Adrian handed him. I realize he got up to help me, even though it cost him a bet. My heart flutters and aches.
Why do they all have to be so wonderful?
Even Colt, who reaches his own hand out and curls his fingers. Dante pouts, ponying up more cash.
“You both bet on me?” I gape, swiveling from my gray-eyed alpha to my blue-eyed one.
Colt shrugs, his smirk as enigmatic as ever. “I bet on Dante being a simp.”
I laugh, even though his statement pinches my lungs. It’s true, though. They’re all acting like the entire world revolves around me…
And it might not be forever. Or even for very long.
But it feels pretty damn real to me.
The pack alpha takes his payout, then loops a muscled forearm around my middle to guide me into his lap.
Adrian removes my helmet and runs his nose along the shell of my ear.
I turn my face to shoot him a look, but the intensity swirling in his eyes stops me.
The small smile on his sculpted lips transforms his teasing reply into the sincerest compliment.
“I know a good investment when I see one,” he murmurs.
The world could disintegrate, and I’m not sure I’d notice. The longer I stare into Adrian, the slower my breaths come. Until everything fades into a muted haze—except for this alpha’s azure eyes.
For a moment—just one half of a second—I let my guard slip.
My Omega slides through that crack, snapping to the surface. This is our alpha , she pants, he’s really our alpha. He’s really ?—
Usually, her babbling optimism pisses me off. But, right now? With everything she ever wanted surrounding me? And so very much not mine to keep?
Unfamiliar softness throbs in my chest. No , I whisper to her. Aching with her. No, he’s not . I’m ?—
I’m sorry.
I’ve never said that to her. Never apologized for shutting her down. Drowning her out. Verbally abusing her into silence because every word she whines breaks my big, stupid heart.
Just like I’ve never admitted—to myself or my Omega—that I regret taking this deal. One that’s crushed my spirit and given me hope in so many unexpected ways.
Like this exact moment.
In this gorgeous, powerful man’s lap.
About to cry.
A frown mars Adrian’s masculine beauty. “Bridget? Are you alright?”
I open my mouth to say, yes . I’m fine. It’s no big deal.
But the truth comes out instead. And once I whisper the words, I know I’ll never be able to take them back.
“I just wish this didn’t have to end. I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave.”