Chapter 27
chapter
twenty-seven
“Did you want to keep your toes?”
The cool blue flames in Avery’s eyes flare as he levels a look at Jonah. The big man stretched out underneath me rolls his eyes and grumbles, angling his legs to drop his feet to the floor, well away from Avery’s left thigh.
A few days ago, I might not have had the balls to say anything, but after four days in their house, I’ve learned that the easiest way to make Avery happy is to blurt whatever sassy nonsense pops into my head.
Because he likes it.
I narrow my gaze at the tattooed alpha. “He was here first, you know.”
Pale, fiery eyes roll over my black cut-offs and Jonah’s borrowed jersey, up to my pouting face. His mouth twitches, the plush pink lips betraying a hint of his crooked grin. “You telling me to get lost, kitten?”
Jonah’s brawny hand continues massaging the back of my neck. He’s been true to his word ever since my first night here—steadily doing everything he can to treat my touch starvation without even a trace of expectation.
Today, he got home from practice and decided we needed to veg out on the couch. Of course, his version of “vegging out” includes a stuffed-crust pizza, buffalo wings, cheese fries, and absolutely no veggies to speak of.
He offered to let me pick anything I wanted to watch, but he’s done that every day. When I insisted he choose, he asked if I’d mind watching an old game so he can review the tape.
Which is how I wound up sitting upright in his lap while he reclined in the cushions, massaging my neck and shoulders as he explained the finer points of his plays.
Until Avery busted in, tearing through our food like a tornado and claiming a spot close enough to feed me fries from his inked-up fingers.
“I never said that,” I scoff, reaching for his plate and snatching his pizza crust. I tear a bite off and watch the way his eyes sparkle, full of danger and something a bit more intense than admiration.
“I’m just saying,” I mumble, chewing and skirting my focus back to the game tape. “You can’t take a seat next to Jo’s feet and then complain about them.”
Jonah’s smile is wide and warm. “Yeah,” he agrees, lifting his feet and dropping them right into Avery’s lap, next to his food. “Listen to our omega.”
Our omega …
Oblivious to the tingles frothing though my insides, Avery glares down at Jonah’s toes, then glances over at me. “Fuck it,” he grunts, scooting closer, until Jonah’s calves are over his groin and he’s close enough to loop an arm around my waist.
Nerves simmer in my stomach as I turn to Jonah, worried he’ll be annoyed. But he only gives me another kind smile, slipping his hand from my nape to lace his fingers through mine.
He nods at the screen. “Next we should watch one of Ave’s old fights. I have a few recordings.”
Avery sets his empty plate aside and scowls. “That shit is so boring.”
They bicker like this all the time. It’s actually sort of cute, given how they both clearly enjoy the back-and-forth.
While they keep debating, I look over at the two empty chairs positioned on either side of the sofa, wondering where the Thorne brothers are.
I’ve barely seen Spencer. After the incident in the hallway, he’s started keeping odd hours—leaving very early in the morning and coming home in the middle of the afternoon. I suspect he’s figured out that I’m usually with Jonah and Avery at that time, leaving him free to slip past without feeling obliged to check on me.
That’s what I am to him, I’ve gathered—an obligation. I’m fairly sure he only tolerates me living in their house in order to keep his brother in one piece.
I have no idea if it’s working. Tristan Thorne is every bit as evasive and mysterious as the professor. Sometimes, I catch him hovering in nearby rooms, observing the way Jonah and Avery interact with me. Probably trying to decide how he feels about the monumental mistake he made by biting me.
His regret is still palpable. It hurts my feelings, sending me into a pit of dread and shame every time I catch sight of him.
Honestly, my reaction doesn’t even make any sense.
Why do I let the way he feels about me affect my self-worth? It’s not like he knows me. He hasn’t even tried to.
Then again, he didn’t bite me for my personality . Maybe my scent is the only value I’ll ever have, for the senator. Which makes the fact that he hates himself for being lured in by it even more complicated.
As if sensing I need a distraction, Avery snatches my wrist and pulls my forearm over, propping it on Jonah’s slightly bent knees. He extracts a Sharpie from his joggers and starts sketching, tracing fine lines over my skin.
I look over at Jo. “Is this normal? Should I be concerned?”
Jonah grins and shows me some of his own ink. Implying, I think, that Avery did the piece etched into his own wrist. “I think it means he likes you.”
Avery’s opal eyes flick up to mine, warm and teasing. “Was that really in question, kitten? After last night?” His pretty lips quirk as they remind me of all the heat-spikes he’s eased me through. “And yesterday? And the day before?”
He’s just kidding . I know that. This is our thing—being sassy, clawing at one another.
But my scent still darkens as my belly squirms, filling with the familiar sensation of shame. I duck my head, hoping no one will notice if I can compose my face before they?—
Jonah kicks Avery’s thigh. The pen tip marking my skin pauses.
For a second, I think I’m about to be in the middle of one of their smackdowns— over me? —but then Ave reaches for my chin, lifting my face the way he always does. Wanting to see my eyes.
“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning over to rub his forehead into mine. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re just joking,” I dismiss, forcing a smile. “And I’ve probably been way too needy?— ”
He sighs, kissing me softly. “Fucking never ,” he roughs out. “I don’t ever want you to think that.”
He pulls back, a wince marring his black brows, creasing the pale skin between them. My eyes mist when I see the genuine concern in his.
When he sees the tears, Avery’s face cracks into a pained expression. “Come here, baby.”
Jonah helps, lifting me right into Ave’s lap and sitting up behind me. While he rubs soothing circles on my lower back, Avery presses his lips into mine again, whispering, “That was a stupid fucking thing to say. I’m sorry.”
He shouldn’t even be the one apologizing. It’s me—my problem, my fault. My perfume. My heat-spikes. My hang-ups. That little voice inside of me that tells me sex appeal is all I’ll ever be to anyone.
It isn’t true, though. I can already see that.
Jonah’s been a perfect gentleman, giving me more affection than I ever dreamed and never so much as letting his hands wander. And twice, during my spikes, Avery’s put me in his tattoo chair and spent nearly an hour between my thighs, getting me off without any reciprocity.
He holds me after and purrs for me, tells me jokes and funny stories. Or he gets one of his sketches out and works on it while I melt against his rumbling chest.
They both act like they’re truly happy I’m here. It isn’t fair for me to be so sensitive about this.
“I—I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t feel so?—”
Jonah moves in closer, his own purr vibrating against my spine. “But you do, manamea . It’s okay. We all have our stuff.”
Avery pulls back just far enough to give me a solemn look as he shudders. “Yeah, never tease Spencer about the freckles on his shoulders. Trust me.”
My giggle sounds watery, but it makes him smile. “And Tristan is weird about his ears after that one haircut,” he adds.
Jonah sighs. “I told him not to cut his hair that short.”
I laugh again, but my heart feels heavy. Will Tristan ever tell me any of his own stories? Am I going to have to hear them all from his packmates?
Jonah’s phone buzzes. He checks it quickly and then chucks it aside, his expression softening as he moves closer to me.
I don’t know how he senses my feelings, but he snuggles into my back while Avery drops more kisses onto my mouth. Before long, we’re making out while Jonah keeps up his steady, soothing touches.
Their purrs press into me, melting the tension I can’t seem to shake. Making me believe, for just a few minutes, that I’m the center of their world.
When my perfume winds into the air, I expect them both to press their advantages. Instead, Avery’s mouth curves against mine. He hums, his voice rough with desire. “You know what I think?”
Jonah answers before I can. “What?”
“I think our girl needs a foot rub.”
The big man behind me grins at Ave. “You’ll have to fight me for it.”