Chapter 46 #2
“I know I’m not anywhere near Renfro’s whole movie-star level of good looks he’s got going on.” Atlas’s voice is velvety smooth. So much so, my gaze drifts down to his mouth. His very kissable, perfect mouth.
He slowly wets his bottom lip.
I’m struggling to stay upright.
My mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. Am I panting?
“Wren.” Hearing the way he says my name, with a hint of warning, only adds to the multitude of confusing layers around what this closeness is doing to my sanity.
It’s subtle, but I feel the tiniest fraction of movement shoot straight through to my core. His thumb brushes over the material at my hip, and I don’t know if he means to do it, or if it’s a nervous habit, but I immediately wish that layer of cotton wasn’t in the way of him stroking my bare skin.
My eyes jump to his.
This isn’t supposed to happen.
Yet I reach out, heart hammering in the side of my throat, and do what I’ve wanted to do since first walking in, finding him in the darkness.
I hesitantly run the pads of my fingers along the line of his jaw, stroking and savoring his warmth, all while an electric current passes straight through me, bolting down to my toes.
“Fuck it,” he growls and lunges for my mouth.
His lips meet mine with urgency, primal need, a surge of adrenaline knocking me off-kilter.
This isn’t just an ordinary kiss.
There’s so much more meaning there that I don’t understand as he seals his mouth with my own.
All I can taste and scent is pure, unfiltered, unadulterated wild.
Orange and oak and the heady sense of being swept up, up, up.
I’m transformed into giddy sparks of a bonfire, twirling and climbing high into a night’s sky.
Atlas’s massive hands stay tangled in my T-shirt, but they slide up, pushing the fabric higher so that he can grab hold of my waist. He brackets me in those enormous palms, pinning me, keeping me exactly where he wants me, all while owning my mouth in a delicious, punishing taste of my moans.
Oh. My. God.
This man can kiss.
It’s exactly the kind of kiss that reduces me to breathless whimpers as he angles our mouths together, deepening the connection.
The sort of anguished, flown-out-of-our-heads, what-the-fuck-are-we-doing kiss.
The glide of his tongue pushing against the seam of my lips, demanding more, has me moaning softly and giving him access easily.
The confidence and sex he floods my veins with is intoxicating.
Atlas upends any argument as to why it isn’t a good idea to be kissing the Alpha, who’s my brother’s best friend, and avoids me at all costs.
If he kisses like this? I have no thoughts, except for when can we do it again?
Atlas’s palms are searing hot, burning straight through the thin fabric, and I really wish he would move them anywhere, but I also love the way he’s pinning me so firmly. It’s a silent command, a promise that as long as I obey him, he won’t pull back or leave me wanting.
His tongue pushes into my mouth, lapping at mine, and I can’t help the tiny, desperate mewls I make as he sinks against me.
A burst of something coats my tongue. It’s a stark scent, slightly metallic, like a copper penny.
The sharp edge cuts across those rich notes, interrupting all the gorgeousness of how Atlas smells.
My lust-drunk brain takes a moment to catch up, but I realize with a gasp—and being more turned on by it than I should—that I can taste the tang of blood. His blood.
He feels me freeze a little, easing back in reply, but not before pausing to suck my bottom lip into his mouth.
Oh god.
That right there. That’s the move.
My clit pulses with a heartbeat of its own.
I’m panting, putty in his hands, practically whimpering, because I don’t want him to stop.
But fate steps in and steals whatever time we had remaining. Vehicle headlights sweep across the kitchen, and the spell is broken in an instant.
Atlas disappears so fast he could be a magician vanishing in a puff of smoke.
His rapid departure leaves me swaying off balance, blinking at the empty stool in front of me.
I must be a perfuming mess, because I’ve hardly registered that he took the ice pack and his training bag with him.
The only evidence he was even here is the half-empty glass of water and pill blister packet left sitting on the counter.
Next minute, the front door opens, Connor and Theo’s deep voices reach out through the house as they arrive, and I panic.
Shit.
What was I thinking?
What was I doing?
That was completely reckless and foolish, and my two scent matches are seconds from coming down the hall. They’re both going to go out of their minds when they walk in here to discover my scent filling this kitchen like some sort of sex-crazed demon who just threw herself at their teammate.
So, I do what any needy Omega would do.
I run at them like a whirlwind and hurl myself into Connor’s arms. My arms loop behind his neck, and both legs wrap his waist.
Look, I was needy for them before they got home. That much is undeniable. Atlas just turned that particular dial up to a fuck-me-immediately level of horniness.
I crash our mouths together and have to hope like hell that Connor will be just as engrossed with seeing me after a big win like that.
Which seems to be the case. His muscles tense for the briefest second when I start kissing him in a frenzy, before he groans into my mouth and squeezes my ass, walking us to the living room.
“Well, that’s one hell of a welcome home, Bambi.” He grins against my mouth, tumbling us both down onto the couch. “Permission to attack me with that sweet, sweet scent any time of day or night.”
“That game was stressful,” I say truthfully. “Can you blame me for being all worked up?”
A not-so-tiny pang of guilt jabs at my gut.
I shove it aside.
Connor has told me he likes the idea of Atlas being involved in this.
That day, he could scent that we’d been around each other; it seemed to please him.
While I don’t recall his exact words because I was too busy with our whole scent match discovery situation, I know it was definitely a positive.
I just need to find the right time to bring the kiss up, but that certainly won’t be tonight.
I almost certainly need to get my head around Atlas and the new development of him being under this roof. Not to mention the new development that he is an incredible kisser. My god.
“Are you feeling okay, sweetheart?” Theo comes into focus, leaning down to nudge Connor out of the way and steal a long, dreamy kiss for himself.
“This isn’t…” His brows do that frowny thing.
He checks my forehead with the backs of his fingers.
The concern there is evident, about whether this is my heat or a false alarm.
God. Maybe? I don’t know. I feel like I’m buzzing with need.
But I’m also very, very present.
“No… I feel clear-headed.” I reach for him, dragging him down by the lapels of his sexy-as-all-hell suit jacket. “Not a heat. Not yet. Just missed you both.” My lips brush against his, then trace along his stubble.
My Alphas let out simultaneous groans.
I love the feeling of their bulk poised over me like this.
My mind flashes back to how turned on I felt when Atlas pinned me so that I couldn’t move.
It makes my entire body come alive with the realization that maybe I’d enjoy that.
To be held down and have that weight of any one of my Alphas on top of me.
Maybe to be held down by more than one of them at the same time.
Well. The thick cloud of perfume surrounding us is a dead giveaway for my slutty thoughts.
“Give us ten minutes, Bambi?” Connor heaves himself to brace his weight on both hands, hovering over me. “I need to quickly eat something, then I’ll have the stamina to run rings around Brennan all night long.”
Theo scoffs and shoves his shoulder. “Like hell you will.” Then he turns back to me with an apologetic smile. “I didn’t get a chance to eat tonight yet either. I’m sorry you’re cursed with rugby players and their appetites.”
That makes me giggle.
“Look at you, old man. Bringing out the dirty lines.” Connor backhands Theo’s stomach. “I’ve taught you something.”
Theo’s face morphs into a flustered expression. It’s the sweetest thing. He very clearly didn’t mean to make it sound sexual, and scrubs a palm over his mouth in the form of a silent apology.
“It’s totally fine… you need to have something… to eat. I’m sure you’re starving.” I’m grinning foolishly at the matching bulges in the front of their slacks and waggle my eyebrows suggestively. God, I really can’t get enough of how easy it is being with them.
Connor can’t control his laughter but drags himself to stand up and reaches for me. As he does so, my phone slips from my grasp, and Theo catches it before it tumbles to the carpet.
He takes a glance at the screen, then turns it back to face me. “Your phone battery is almost flat. Want me to find your charger?”
I shake my head and swipe it from his hand, before pushing them in the direction of the kitchen. “No way. I’m more than capable.”
Well, capable of finding a charger cord. Maybe not of walking, considering I’m well and truly weak at the knees.
Connor jogs ahead. “Pretty sure I last saw it in my room. If not, just take mine and use that.”
“Okay, I’ll just be a minute.” I hide my smile and go in search of my phone charger, which I possibly, maybe, absolutely did leave in Connor’s room after spending the night with him and Theo in his bed.
We decided the night before a game was better for Connor to sleep on his big fancy athlete mattress, as he calls it.
When I walk in, my hearing immediately focuses on the sound of running water. I stop dead in my tracks. My eyes leap to the en suite door and the noise of the shower. Oh yeah, of course. Theo has his own master bath. Connor’s room has a shared one… with Atlas.
Who hasn’t been here until now.
Who is here now.
Who is in that shower.
Goosebumps race down my arms as I stand there, frozen to the spot, hardly daring to breathe.
The door stands wide open. Oh god. Is he going to think I’ve come in here lurking?
No. That’s ridiculous. I shake away the notion and spy my charger beside the bed, just where I must have left it. Easy.
I’ve barely crossed the room—tiptoeing just to make sure I don’t go freaking Atlas out if he realizes I’m in here—when I hear a noise.
My stomach swoops.
No… that’s not… that can’t possibly be…
It’s louder this time, muffled by the water splashing against tiles, but it’s unmistakably a throaty grunt.
Every sense is locked on that open doorway, waiting with bated breath for another hint, another stolen glimpse of him sounding so desperate and filled with need. Oh my god, I half wonder if my oversexed brain fabricated everything, when this time it’s unmistakable.
“That’s it. Like that.” His voice is rough. Demanding. As if he’s commanding someone. “Suck me.” It’s a hoarse groan, followed by a wet slap, like his palm just connected with the wall.
Holy fuck. If I was turned on before, now I’ve just walked in on him jerking off, and overhearing him is leaving me flushed, trying to picture what he might look like.
Also, I’m now incredibly confused and worked up.
Is there a chance this might be because of our kiss?
He ran off so fast, it almost seemed as if he immediately regretted it, as though it didn’t mean anything to him.
Yeah. Of course. He’s a rugby player. The guy will definitely be thinking about someone else. I was just a little blip on his radar, with painkillers and weird running into each other unexpectedly after dark type things making us act on impulse.
Yet, I can’t force myself to walk away.
This is so wrong of me.
But the way he makes another of those deep masculine grunts, I can almost convince myself I hear the slick move of his fist over the running water. Damn. That’s hot.
Then it builds. A muffled curse. A gritty noise. The unmistakable evidence of a man on the precipice of coming makes my mouth drop open.
Then one word is all it takes to tilt everything on its axis.
“Wren.”