Chapter 21
Hestia
Iworked so hard making treats that I exhausted myself. I only allowed Magnus to pull me away for a quick lunch break, and then I was right back to it.
Magnus tried to stop me, saying we don’t need to make that many treats, but I was determined to prove myself. When he couldn’t convince me otherwise, Magnus kept working right alongside me.
By the time we stopped, we’d made dozens of Pete Treats. Magnus wrapped most of them up for another day but put one of my treats in a plant saucer for Pete. He hadn’t tried it by the time we left the greenhouse, so I can only hope he appreciates the effort I put into making him tasty food.
Now it’s time for our movie night. I’m already tucked under a blanket on the couch with Cato plastered to my side.
Henri put together a bunch of charcuterie boards and drinks for the event. Everything is spread out on the coffee table within easy reach.
“I saved some of the new holiday movies that I heard are good,” Orion says, pulling up the streaming service.
We grab our snacks while the trailers play, and eventually select The Mistletoe Incident.
Henri made an amazing spiced eggnog. I refilled my cup before the movie even started. My plate is filled with peppermint popcorn and chocolate candies, along with some savory snacks, pepperoni, pickles, and cheese, to make sure I get enough protein.
I’m finding it difficult to pay attention to the movie. The Mistletoe Incident is a cute rom-com, but the cookie-cutter male lead isn’t doing much for me. He certainly isn’t more captivating than the men I’m already cuddling with.
I’m not sure how Cato contorted himself like this, but his cheek is pressed against mine, bare chest hot on my arm. He’s squeezed so close, I’m smushed against Henri on my other side.
Their scents dance around me, sweet and spicy, comforting and titillating all at once. I’m so keyed up I’m barely able to eat my movie snacks.
Henri shifts, and I think he’s going to put some space between us. I breathe a sigh of relief. I need a respite before their muscles get to me and I do something stupid.
Except Henri puts his arm across the back of the couch, tucking me into his side.
We’re only twenty minutes into the movie, and I’m at risk of tossing off my panties.
I can’t keep my eyes on the screen anymore. My gaze strays to Charm lounging on the floor, one knee propped up and legs spread. The light from the TV reflects on his blonde hair, making it look red or blue or green.
It would be so easy to drop to the floor and crawl between his legs. And then I’d make quick work of unbuttoning him and—
I close my eyes as if that will cut off the mental image. I need to calm down before they notice I’m panting over them.
But when I open my eyes, the traitorous things stray to Magnus.
The chair he’s sitting in is huge (it could fit three of me), but he makes it look small.
When he came downstairs after changing earlier, I almost choked on my tongue seeing him in sweatpants.
Unlike Cato, he still has a shirt on, but neither article of clothing leave much to the imagination with how tight they are.
Henri said we should do a cozy movie night and wear lounge clothes, and I foolishly agreed. If I’d thought about it, I would have realized that seeing the rest of my bosses in sweatpants would be bad for my self-control.
With every step Magnus took, I could see it. Even standing still, I could see it hanging there. There’s no hiding that thing with clingy pants.
Apparently when he wears sturdier pants, it blends in with the muscles on his legs. But now I know that bulge is all cock, I feel like my eyes are going to be drawn right to it no matter what he’s wearing.
You can’t blame the movie for not holding my attention under these circumstances.
I’m clutching my plate so hard my hands are cramping, but it’s better than letting them roam. Who knows whose pants they’d try to get into.
Maybe if I chew on some food, that will distract me from other hungry thoughts.
I pick up a piece of something, popcorn maybe, but drop it in surprise when Cato touches my leg.
When I don’t push him away, he slides his hand up until he’s rubbing my inner thigh.
I peek at Cato out of the corner of my eye, trying not to let on to the others. He’s smirking at me, and I narrow my eyes at him, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers just keep rubbing small circles, the same kind of motion you’d use on another, more sensitive place.
He doesn’t go any further, just tempting me with what he could do if he shifted his hand a few inches.
I should stop him.
I should have pushed him away earlier, cuddling on the couch is already past platonic teammate behavior.
I always second-guess myself with him though. Cato is so attractive and charismatic, why would he need to hit on me when he could have anyone? Especially now, when we’re on vacation. He could be out there in bars or clubs, or even just wandering around town, and he’d find tons of willing partners.
Cato doesn’t need plain old me, a subordinate he’s not supposed to sleep with anyway.
So surely he’s not hitting on me when he teases me and sits close to me and touches me.
Except, as Cato’s fingers brush my mound, I can’t keep denying his interest.
It was only a brief touch, his hand is already back on my thigh, but I know it was on purpose.
Should I move his hand to where I really want it? Is he waiting for me to make the next move?
This is insane. I’m considering having my boss finger me while we’re surrounded by my other bosses, his packmates.
Would we keep it a secret? Or would the others join in?
If only my omega would shut up so I can think! I don’t need her lustfully chanting alpha alpha alpha.
She’s still an idiot around them. Clearly too horny from our first sexual touch since my last heat that she doesn’t realize it’s Cato touching us, not one of our alphas.
I wish she would’ve stayed dormant until I finished my training. My omega was never very present in my mind, but suddenly she thinks it’s time to find a pack, and of course, who better than our hot bosses.
Cato hasn’t tried to go any further, which is for the best. My racing thoughts reminded me I’m not supposed to do this, no matter how much I want to. I don’t want to ruin our careers.
No fingering allowed.
I grab Cato’s wrist before I change my mind and push it down to my knee. He squeezes my thigh and rests his hand there, no more rubbing.
I let out a shaky breath.
Now that I’ve found my resolve, I’m finally able to pay attention to the movie. It looks like the guy’s dog had puppies while I was distracted, little puffballs running around as he dances with the female lead in the falling snow.
Their romance is so easy.
Stupid fictional characters.