Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
OLIVIA
All it takes to pull Cici out of her sadness is a bottle of pink nail polish. Deep down, she’s probably still hurting, but for right now, she simply gets to be a young omega painting an alpha’s nails.
“Don’t touch it, Hayes,” Cici shrieks at the giant alpha.
Hayes looks up at the tiny tyrant with a guilty expression, his finger hovering barely a centimeter over the semi-dry coat of color on his thumb. “But it looks dry.”
Cici lets out a long-suffering sigh, her eyes rolling back into her head. “That doesn’t mean it is. You’ll mess it up, and then we’ll have to start over.”
“Definitely don’t want that,” Hayes mutters under his breath, and it takes everything in me to stifle my laughter.
Liam’s little sister has all of these guys wrapped around her tiny finger. I love it.
“Boys,” she says, meeting my gaze and sighing deeply.
This time, I can’t stop my giggle. “I know, right?”
“You talking shi—I mean smack, sweetness?” Wilder ruffles my hair before pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.
It’s such an affectionate gesture, it makes my insides warm and my lower belly tighten. Sometimes, omega biology can be incredibly inconvenient. The last thing I need is to show signs of arousal around Liam’s kid sister, who hasn’t even awakened yet.
“I know you were going to say shit, Wilder. I’m not that young.” Cici rolls her eyes again but doesn’t look up from Hayes's large fingers. She only has one left, and then he’ll have a full set of hot pink nails.
Wilder clutches his chest and gasps. “Cici! I cannot believe you, young lady. Such a vulgar word.”
She giggles hard enough that it makes her hands shake, and Hayes ends up with pink on his cuticle.
“Dude.” Hayes shoots his twin a glare, which only makes the rest of us laugh.
“So, Liv.” Cici gives me a quick look before finishing Hayes's nails. “Are you going to mate my brother?”
It’s a good thing I hadn’t taken a sip of my hot chocolate before that question, because I would have choked on it. “Umm . . .”
What do I say to that? They’re courting me, and I hope we end up mated, but they haven’t officially asked yet. I don’t want to be presumptuous.
“We’re not quite there yet, squirt,” Liam answers, rubbing my back. “But that’s the hope.”
“Ohmygod,” Cici squeals. “That’s so exciting. You’re so pretty and smart. Personally, I think boys smell, so I don’t understand, but I’ve always wanted a sister.”
“Me too,” I tell her honestly. Henry was great, but what would my life have been like if there had been another girl in the family? Maybe even another omega to help bear the burden of my mother’s judgment?
Once Cici is done with Hayes's nails, Sawyer asks her if she’s in the mood for an ice cream sundae. As if any little girl wouldn’t be? I watch from my spot at the kitchen island as Liam, Wilder, and Sawyer create an impromptu ice cream bar on the counter. Hot fudge and all.
They’re all so sweet with her. Each of the big men speak gently to her, crouching down a bit when they’re talking so she’s closer to eye-level. When she struggles to scoop the ice cream out of the container, Sawyer wraps his big hand around hers to help, earning a massive smile from the sweet girl.
It makes me feel . . . funny. Flushed and warm. Like all of a sudden, a hole has opened up in my chest, and there’s an ache there. Not the kind of ache that would indicate a true cardiovascular episode, but something more subtle. Something more metaphysical.
“She’s a good kid.” Hayes's voice is soft from his spot beside me. “It’ll be fun having her around for a few days.”
A peal of laughter reverberates through the large kitchen as Wilder wipes a dollop of whipped cream onto the tip of Cici’s nose, and that ache intensifies.
I swear my body is on fire. My gaze shoots to the thermostat, checking to see if one of them cranked it up, but it’s a cool sixty-eight degrees in the house.
Is this . . . baby fever? Preteen fever? Is that even a thing?
“Do you want kids, vixen?”
Do I? Honestly, it’s not something I’ve ever thought about.
I’m not much of a dreamer, and—outside of mathematical and scientific theories—I don’t deal much in hypotheticals.
I’ve always been odd. I know that’s how people see me.
How men usually see me. It seemed pointless to consider the possibility of children when I’d never so much as kissed a guy before Sawyer.
But as I watch these men laugh with and cheer up an eleven-year-old girl, something about it suddenly feels more tangible. More possible.
“I’ve honestly never given it much thought. But I think . . . I think I’m open to the idea.” Birth control was never something I considered, because I wasn’t having sex. Now, though, maybe I should, but perhaps I like the idea of little Sawyers, Liams, or the twins.
Hayes shifts, so his knee rests against mine under the island counter, and warmth fills my belly.
I sense his eyes on me, but I can’t tear mine away from the scene in front of me.
I’d be a better mother than my own. My children would never have to wonder if I loved them. They’d know it without a doubt.
“I’d like a couple kids,” he murmurs. “But I think we’d all be happy even if our omega didn’t want them.”
I turn and look at him. “You would be?”
“Of course. As much as I want a kid or two, we all want you more.” He brushes the pads of his fingers along my jaw, careful not to smudge his manicure.
A quick visual analysis of his expression leads me to believe that he’s telling the truth, and that ache in my chest nearly doubles in its intensity.
Somehow, his declaration makes me even more open to the idea of kids. The gentleness with which he touches me brings an image to mind of the big, tattooed man cradling a tiny, fragile baby, and my scent blooms.
Four sets of eyes turn my way, and my cheeks heat.
“Eat up, Cici,” Liam says to his sister. “Then it’s time for bed.”
When she protests, Liam strokes a hand over her hair. “You’ve had a long day. We all have. It’s important to rest.”
As Liam gets Cici settled in his bedroom, the rest of the guys and I set up the living room to watch a movie. Well, they get everything set up. They won’t let me lift a finger.
“I can make the popcorn, you know.” I roll my eyes as Sawyer leads me to the middle of the longest part of the L-shaped couch and gently pushes my shoulders to get me to sit.
“Of course you can, but you won’t. You’re going to get comfortable, pick the movie you want to watch, and let us take care of you.
” He hands me the remote with a soft smile before kissing my forehead.
Wilder hands him a soft, cloud-like blanket, which Sawyer tucks around me.
It’s heavenly, and the thick, plush material tickles my omega instincts.
Sighing, I snuggle down into it and stop trying to fight them about helping.
As the twins and Sawyer bustle around the kitchen, I flip through movies.
I want to pick something all of them will enjoy, but I was so busy in London that I didn’t have much time to watch movies, and I have no idea what half of them are.
Men like action movies, right? Somehow I doubt they’d be interested in a documentary about modern vaccines.
“Can’t pick?” Wilder asks as he flops down on my right. He sets two mugs of hot chocolate down on the coffee table as Sawyer takes a seat on my left. Hayes settles in next to his twin after putting a bowl of pretzels and a big bag of Peanut Butter M&M’S on the coffee table.
“Too many choices,” I reply, smiling at Wilder.
I have to do a double-take because in the time I’ve been flipping through movies, he must have changed.
Wilder’s no longer wearing jeans and a flannel.
He traded them out for gray sweatpants and shirtlessness.
How is he not cold? We’re in the middle of October.
My scent spikes as I let my eyes run over every inked inch of him.
Wilder is a work of art. The black and gray scenes that cover his chest, torso, and arms are just as impressive as the first time I ogled them.
Reaching out, I let my fingers trace the fluid lines that decorate his pectoral muscles.
His nipples pebble, and he lets out a low groan.
“So beautiful,” I murmur.
“Not as beautiful as you,” he replies, grabbing hold of my ankles and turning me so my back rests against Sawyer, my legs are across Wilder’s lap, and my feet are on Hayes's thighs.
Sawyer wraps his arm around my back and waist, and his fingers play across my hip as Hayes tugs my socks off and begins to rub my feet. They’re all touching me, and my body relaxes.
“Well, this looks cozy.” Liam watches us with a grin, and I frown when I realize if he sits beside Sawyer, he’ll be the only one I can’t touch and who isn’t touching me. Noticing my frown, Liam tips his head to the side. “What’s wrong?”
“Wherever you sit, you’ll be far away.”
The smile that blooms over his face is stunning. I want to kiss him. To lick every inch of him. My mind goes back to the blow job I gave him, and all the men groan when my scent turns needy.
“Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ve got you.” Liam pulls the coffee table away from the couch, tosses a pillow onto the floor in front of me, and sits down. My fingers go to his hair when his head flops back into my lap, and contentment fills me.
This is exactly what I needed. All of them surrounding me, touching me. Their scents weave together into something delicious, and they groan again when my scent spikes.
“Baby, as much as we’d love to give you exactly what your body needs right now, Cici is in the other room, probably not asleep yet. We don’t want to traumatize the poor thing.” Sawyer kisses my temple.