24. Lawrence
Irest flat on my back against the plush pillows. My chest heaves with even, satisfied breaths.
Finn stays tucked right behind Olive. His chin rests on her bare shoulder. Malcolm sleeps on her other side, his long dark hair falling over the white sheets. Victor rests near the foot of the oversized bed, his large hand wrapped around Olive's ankle. We share an permanent bond.
A fierce, protective thrill burns in my chest.
I turn my head and look at Olive. She sleeps in the very center of our pile.
The dark strands of her sleek bob fan out across the mattress.
A fresh scar marks the left side of her neck.
Finn left that bite. Malcolm marked the nape of her neck.
Victor claimed her right wrist, and my teeth marked her left.
I reach out and trace my thumb in a slow path over the faint scar on her wrist. The wound healed in seconds. The mark changes everything. It grounds me. It ties my future to hers in a tangible, undeniable knot.
I stare at the ceiling. The contrast between my past and my present feels staggering.
I spent years playing a specific role. I wore the playboy mask to protect myself from getting hurt.
I used expensive suits, a bright smile, and effortless charm to keep people at a safe distance.
If I kept every interaction superficial, nobody could dig deep enough to break my heart.
I threw money at problems to make them disappear.
I manipulated situations because I feared losing control over my life.
I built a reputation on being the easy-going, untouchable athlete.
Olive shattered that illusion into a million pieces.
She sat on a park bench and ripped my defense mechanisms to shreds.
She rejected my money and my smooth talk.
She saw right through the bullshit. She demanded real, raw honesty.
Earning her trust required me to drop the act for good.
I had to show her the devoted, fierce man hiding underneath the designer clothes.
I had to prove my loyalty with actions instead of empty words.
I run a hand through my dark curls. A quiet, profound peace settles in my gut.
I’ve shed the playboy persona for good. The superficial games hold zero appeal to me now. I don't need to perform or charm my way into being loved anymore. I don't have to put on a show. Olive accepted me at my worst and my best. She claimed all of my jagged edges.
Being a devoted, fierce, loyal mate to her remains the only role I ever want to play.
The intoxicating pack scent fills my lungs.
The crisp ozone of Finn’s thunderstorms mingles with Malcolm’s rich cedar and Victor’s juniper.
But the sweet aroma of warm apple pie and crushed cinnamon binds everything together.
Her scent dominates the space. It wraps around us like a thick, secure blanket.
Victor shifts near the foot of the bed. He pulls Olive's foot against his chest, burying his face in the blankets with a contented sigh.
Seeing him at peace brings a smile to my lips. He fought his own demons in the dark for weeks. He punished himself and kept his distance. But he stepped up when it mattered. He put the work in, and he earned his place in this bed. The fractures in our foundation vanished.
I shift my weight on the mattress, sliding a fraction of an inch closer to Olive. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her back against my side. Her skin hot and soft against my bare chest. She hums in her sleep, a sweet, contented sound, and leans into my embrace.
The hockey playoffs start soon. We face grueling matches and fierce opponents on the ice.
But the impending stress holds no power over me tonight.
We possess a secret weapon. We have a home.
We have a center. I close my eyes, letting the absolute perfection of the moment pull me into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Morning sunlight spills across the thick down comforter, making the California King mattress feel expansive with just the two of us lying in the center of the nest. Finn, Malcolm, and Victor left for an optional morning skate over an hour ago.
Burning off the leftover adrenaline from the playoff win required a hard session on the ice, but I opted to stay behind.
Giving up my spot next to Olive sounded like torture, so I refused to leave this bed.
Shifting against the pillows, Olive blinks her brown eyes open. She looks around the empty room before finding my face; a soft, sleepy smile touches her lips. "Just you and me?"
"Just us." Leaning forward, I press a warm kiss to her forehead. "The others went to the arena, leaving you with my undivided attention for the rest of the morning."
Stretching her arms over her head, she lets out a contented sigh. "I could get used to this. Waking up without an alarm clock or the panic."
"You never have to panic again." Propping my head on my hand, I take my time mapping the curves of her body with my eyes. The morning light catches the faint, healed bite marks on her neck and her wrists, fueling a warm, possessive fire in my chest. She belongs to us. We share a permanent bond now.
"You look beautiful." Tracing my fingertips down her collarbone, I keep my gaze locked on hers. "Waking up next to you feels like a dream."
Her cheeks flush a deep pink, and her apple pie scent spikes with a sweet, undeniable wave of desire. Reaching out, she tangles her fingers in my dark curls. "I love waking up next to you, Lawrence. It feels different today. It feels settled."
"It is settled." Pulling the thick comforter off her legs, I expose her bare skin to the cool air conditioning. I take in every inch of her, dragging my knuckles in a slow, agonizing path down her stomach while her skin shivers under my touch.
Moving down to the foot of the bed, I wrap my hands around her small ankles to lift her legs.
I press soft kisses to her knees, working my way up her thighs before kneading the tight muscles in her calves.
The gentle massage eases the lingering tension from last night's intense bonding session, my large thumbs pressing deep into her skin to work out the knots.
Letting out a soft sigh, her eyes flutter shut. "That feels incredible. I never want to move."
"You never have to." Trailing my lips up the inside of her knee, I bite the sensitive skin with a gentle nip. "We own the world now. No more hiding. No more HR departments dictating your life. You belong here with us."
Opening her eyes, she offers a serene, confident look. "I do."
Crawling back up her side, I lean over and press a soft kiss right over the scar Finn left on the left side of her neck. She tilts her head back to give me better access.
"Finn picked a great spot." Murmuring the praise against the sealed wound, I savor the taste of her skin.
Shifting to the nape of her neck, I drag my lips over the mark Malcolm placed there to revere every claim my pack made.
Picking up her right hand, I press an open-mouthed kiss to the scar Victor left on her wrist, tracing the faint outline with my tongue.
I bring her left wrist to my mouth next, soothing my tongue over my mark.
"You are perfect." Looking up through my eyelashes to catch her gaze, the words vibrate against her pulse point. "I want to worship every inch of you today. I want to make sure you know how much we love you."
"Lawrence." Breathing my name, her chest heaves under the thin comforter.
Shifting my attention to her breasts, I cup the soft mounds in my hands and trace the tight peaks with my thumbs. Lowering my head, I draw one nipple into my mouth. A slow, deliberate rhythm takes over as my tongue swirls around the sensitive bud, flicking the peak to drag the sensation out.
She arches her spine, twisting her fingers into the sheets while a soft moan escapes her throat.
Switching to her other breast, I give it the same devotion, desperate to memorize her taste and make her feel cherished.
The frantic pace of a Heat makes everything a blur, but today promises to stretch every second out.
Nipping her collarbone leaves a faint red mark on her skin before I trail kisses down her ribcage.
Mapping the dip of her waist and the flat plane of her stomach, I trace the edge of her hip bone with my nose.
She shifts on the mattress, spreading her thighs wider to offer an open invitation.
Her slick coats her inner thighs, shining in the morning sunlight as the sweet aroma of cinnamon fills the air.
"I want to taste you." Dropping my voice into a low, vibrating rumble, I shift my weight and settle right between her spread legs.
I lean down, diving my tongue into her dripping center to taste sweet apple pie. Lapping at her wet folds, I drink her slick with an unhurried, devoted pace, swirling my tongue over her swollen clit in a tight circle.
Arching her back off the mattress, a ragged moan tears from her throat. Her hands leave the sheets to grab my shoulders, tangling her fingers in my dark curls to hold my face against her dripping center.
I suck the sensitive bud into my mouth, using gentle pressure to tease the nerves until her thighs tremble against my cheeks. Worshipping her center, every stroke of my tongue communicates my absolute love for her, desperate for her to know she owns my heart.
Bucking her hips up, she chases the friction. "Please, Lawrence. I need more. Stop teasing me."
I pull back. "I'm not teasing." Kissing her inner thigh, I keep my gaze on her flushed face. "I'm worshipping."
Two fingers slide deep inside her wet core, her inner walls clenching around my digits with eager heat. Pumping my fingers in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, my mouth continues to devour her clit. I curl my fingers upward, finding that spot deep inside her that makes her entire body shudder.
"Lawrence!" Screaming my name, her nails dig into my skin.