25. Sterling
STERLING
T he first thing I notice when I wake up is that I don’t want to. I’m sore in the most delicious way, my brain is muddled and I can’t for the life of me find a good reason to get out of my nest.
The second thing I notice is that Cass isn’t here.
Warmth still lingers in the nest, his scent woven into every inch of fabric, into the pillows, into my skin.
A mix of sea breeze, fir trees, and the dark, woodsy spice that is uniquely him.
It wraps around me like a physical thing, soothing, heady, intoxicating.
I roll to sit up and look around. His clothes are gone.
It must still be early. The sun is barely above the mountains.
I stretch, muscles sore and feeling well used, my fingers absentmindedly tracing over where he touched me last night, where his hands gripped my hips, where his mouth worshiped me.
Heat flares in my cheeks, and I roll over, covering myself in my blanket again. Only my eyes peeking out. And that’s when I see it—a note on the bedside table, folded haphazardly, as if he wrote it in a hurry.
I reach for it, fingers trembling just slightly, my heart hammering before I even unfold the paper.
Went to get breakfast. Stay in bed, Omega.
A shiver rolls through me. And then I’m smiling and I can’t seem to stop.
His words are messy and all Alpha, kind of bossy. I’m not going to lie, my Omega likes it. I trace my finger over the masculine handwriting. And I know it’s dumb, but the note feels like proof that he’s real and that he wanted me. Wants me. And that he didn’t just leave.
Stay in bed, Omega.
I bite my lip, pressing the note to my chest, my heart doing something stupid and fluttery even as a deep throb rolls through my core.
Cass isn’t the kind of Alpha to run away from a problem.
But I don’t know what last night was to him—to either of us.
Will I let them court me?
The thought sends shivers down my spine and goosebumps racing across my skin.
Casual sex lives firmly in the no expectations, no strings camp.
But I’m starting to think my traitorous heart might actually want the strings.
I flop back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, chewing my bottom lip.
I take a deep breath trying to reign in my galloping heart, because this should be simple.
I should be able to sort through my feelings, categorize them, put them into a safe little mental box labeled: Complicated Alpha Sex Situation or Potential Hot Alpha Pack Situation and move on with my day.
Except I can’t.
Because I don’t know what any of this means.
Because last night was the best sex of my life. Granted, my experience in that department is…limited. But honestly? I can’t imagine how it could have been better.
And because Cass Redgrave—the grumpy, brooding Alpha who has spent every interaction with me acting like he can’t decide whether to kiss me or run in the opposite direction— is out getting me breakfast.
And I don’t know what the hell to do with that.
I put my head under the covers and immediately regret it as I smell me. I reek of sex and sweat. And now all I can feel is how sticky I am.
I crawl out of my nest gingerly—much sorer than I expected—and make my way to the shower.
Twenty minutes later, my hair is wrapped in a towel, and I’m in a soft tank and a clean pair of shorts, scrubbed and soaped until I’m practically glowing.
I’m still tangled up in my own thoughts when there’s a loud, insistent knock at the door. My pulse jumps as I make my way toward it.
I barely have time to reach for the handle before the door swings open?—
And I immediately regret not checking the peep hole first.
Because it’s not just Cass standing there, windswept and gorgeous.
It’s Cass, Quinn, and JP.
All three Alphas. On my porch. Staring.
They freeze in the doorway, eyes wide, and suddenly I’m very aware that my hair is still damp, my legs are bare, and I’m standing there in nothing but a hoodie and shorts while the chilly air creeps in around me.
And oh God.
They’re absolutely going to know what Cass and I did.
I’m also keenly aware of how thick my thighs look in these shorts. It didn’t seem to matter when it was just me and I wasn’t sure if Cass was actually coming back. I feel shabby and naked in front of them.
Cass looks disgruntled and grumpy as hell.
JP is lurking behind Cass looking unsure, his sharp, unreadable gaze flicking down over my body, lingering just enough to make my stomach tighten.
And Quinn?—
Quinn just grins.
“Morning, sweetheart,” he drawls, and all I want to do is curl up in his lap.
JP lets out a slow breath, nostrils flaring slightly. “Damn, you smell good.” And holy hell, I feel that voice, low and teasing, as it wraps around my spine, and pulls the air from my lungs before settling lower.
Cass immediately elbows him. “Jesus fucking Christ, JP?—”
I freeze. My scent—oh God. Not just mine. Mine and Cass’s. It’s everywhere. Filling all the space of my tiny house. Pure fucking sex.
A full-body wave of mortification slams into me.
I slept in it. I rolled around in it. Now they can all smell it. Cinnamon sugar and evergreen trees, storms and rain and cinnamon rolls and sex.
A deep, scalding blush rushes up my neck, across my face, creeping all the way to my hairline.
I swear I might actually die.
I shift awkwardly, collapsing into a puddle of embarrassment.
But I don’t have time to be mortified before Quinn’s smile deepens.
His honey-brown eyes flick over me, dark and amused. It’s a look I feel everywhere. Oh my god.
“We didn’t come empty handed.” He shakes a pastry bag with Dizzy D’s stamped on the front. The earthy scent of Daisy’s signature cardamom buns makes my mouth water.
“Come in, before the whole town starts gossiping,” I mutter, stepping aside to let them in.
“Well,” Quinn says, clearly enjoying this way too much, “that explains why you didn’t come home last night. I almost had the sheriff out looking for your ass.” He grins and gives Cass a playful punch in the arm.
Cass growls and shoves past him into the house. “Can we not fucking do this right now?”
JP just shakes his head as he steps inside, his massive frame seeming to eat up the light in the room. He practically radiates intensity.
“This is what you get for trying to keep her to yourself,” he says, voice low and matter-of-factly.
And I blink, stunned—not by the words, but by the fact that JP is talking.
I don’t think I’ve heard more than three words from him since the day he saved my life.
But now? There’s something different.
Like last night shifted something. That conversation about heats and courting opened a door we didn’t know existed.
He seems more comfortable. We all do.
Cass shoots him a murderous look. “I swear to God, JP?—”
“Are you guys seriously having this conversation while I’m standing right here?!” I blurt, my voice high and strangled.
Cass mutters something unintelligible, running a hand through his hair, looking surprised and awkward.
Quinn chuckles, dropping onto the couch like he’s been here a hundred times before.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his gaze caressing as he literally undresses me with his eyes. Something that should be cheesy but is undeniably erotic. His look is full of heat and a promise. “We’re just here for breakfast.”
That shouldn’t sound as suggestive as it does.
I step aside, pretending like I don’t feel ridiculously flustered, pretending like I don’t suddenly feel hyper-aware of my own scent, my own body.
Cass walks into the kitchen first, still grumbling under his breath as he drops a bag of groceries on the counter muttering about “Nosy assholes who don’t know how to mind their own business.”
“I was coming back alone,” he snaps, shooting a look my way. “But these two wouldn’t shut the fuck up with questions. When I told them where I was going, they just invited themselves.”
“We didn’t want you hogging all the fun.” Quinn smirks, far too comfortable on my couch, clutching a pale pink shaggy sheepskin pillow.
It’s so ridiculous, so completely out of place, that I burst out laughing, unable to contain it.
All the nerves, anxiety, and sheer newness of the last twenty-four hours come pouring out in a choked, desperate laugh.
I stumble over to the kitchen island, trying to compose myself, to act normal.
I fail.
Spectacularly.
“I think you broke her,” JP purrs behind me, his deep voice brushing against my spine like a dark caress.
He hands me a bakery bag, warm and smelling like heaven.
Out of all of them, he’s the most intimidating. JP is like the dark corner of a bar you want to disappear into. Alluring. Edged with danger. The kind of man who doesn’t have to speak to own a room.
And somehow, that just makes it worse.
I laugh harder.
It takes a Herculean effort to stop the giggles, but eventually, I manage to straighten up and wipe the tears from my eyes.
“Oh my God,” I wheeze through deep breaths and slide into the chair at the kitchen island
And it doesn’t help that he smells like my favorite tea—licorice and spice, warm and heady, a scent that wraps around me, settles deep in my chest, makes my knees weak.
I peer at JP over the bun I’m nibbling. He’s pulling out a frying pan, digging through the groceries Cass brought in.
He must feel me staring because he looks over at me and heat flames through my chest, my stomach, my core. I tear my gaze away, my cheeks burning.
“Sweetheart, you need a minute?” Cass asks, amusement thick in his voice as he hands me a coffee cup—clearly aware that I was just eye-fucking JP.
The warmth seeps into my palms. I can do this. I can act like a cool, normal girl who totally knows how to function with three gorgeous Alphas in her kitchen. On a Sunday morning. After being thoroughly wrecked by one of them.
I swallow hard, forcing my face into something that hopefully resembles normalcy, trying to find my voice.
“No, no…I’m good. It’s just—kind of unexpected. You’re all here. In my kitchen. On a Sunday morning. And I’m not even wearing underwear."
Oh God.
The second the words leave my mouth, I freeze.
Silence.
Three sets of eyes snap to me.
Fuck.
Heat crashes over me in a wave—burning down my neck, across my chest, setting my entire body on fire.
“Just pretend I didn’t say that last part out loud,” I mumble, clamping my mouth shut and gripping my coffee like it might save me from spontaneous combustion.
Yep. That’s it. I’m officially combusting. I can feel the tailspin starting…
Why does this have to feel awkward?
A sick, sinking feeling of inadequacy starts to settle in, heavy and familiar. That cruel little voice in my head stirs, ready to list every single thing that’s wrong with me.
I stare into my coffee cup like it holds all the answers—and to my absolute horror, my eyes start to sting. My throat tightens, and a bitter edge creeps into my scent.
What the hell is wrong with me?
But Quinn just laughs, breaking the tension like it’s nothing.
“Sorry, love. Can’t put that genie back in the bottle,” he says.
Then, with a soft growl, Cass slides a freshly buttered biscuit and a plate of eggs in front of me. “Eat,” he says softly.
Then he reaches up, cupping the side of my face, his thumb brushing gently over my cheekbone.
“And knock that shit off.”
I blink at him, stunned. Then glance at the others.
All three of them are looking at me with the same expression—steady, quiet, accepting. Like nothing I do could scare them off.
My breathing relaxes.
And I take a very shaky bite.
“Alright, you assholes, come eat too,” Cass mutters, scooping a generous portion of eggs and biscuits onto his plate before pulling out the stool beside me.
Quinn slides into the seat on my other side. He casually grabs a chunk of biscuit off his plate and chucks it at the back of JP’s head.
It bounces off and lands on the island with a soft plop.
“What the hell,” JP growls, just as another piece of biscuit sails from Cass’s hand and hits him square in the side of the face.
And I can’t help it—I crumble into another fit of laughter.
My embarrassment from a second ago is completely forgotten, and with it, the tension melts, and a lightness fills the room between these three Alphas.
“Laugh it up, dicks,” JP mutters—but there’s a half-smile tugging at his lips as he grabs a plate of food and pulls a chair up across from me.
His expression is stoic, unreadable as ever, but his shoulders are tense, his whole body practically brimming with energy.
Then Quinn leans back in his chair, completely at ease, one hand reaching out to rub soft, lazy circles on my back.
“Well, sweetheart…” he says casually, like he’s asking me what kind of muffins I like. “Can we court you? Like, official style?”
I choke a little on my bite of biscuit, coughing and swallowing quickly.
“Me?” I rasp, eyes wide. “Are you sure, it’s me you want to?”
He takes a moment to glance around the kitchen, then into the living room.
“Do you see any other sweet-smelling Omega around here?”
“Yes, you, beautiful.” Quinn leans in close—too close—until I can see the stubble along his jaw and feel his breath on my skin.
He turns my chair so that my knees are between his, one hand gripping the back of the chair, the other braced on the counter.
And then I feel Cass behind me, his presence unmistakable as he leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear.
“And beautiful girl,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “we want to help you through your heat.”
As he says it, he drags his nose along the side of my face—slow, deliberate—sending a ripple of goosebumps down my spine and a fresh wave of slick to my core.
Oh, I hate him.
And I kind of really, really like him.
My scent is filling the air now—thick, sweet, unmistakable.
I look to JP, and the look he gives me nearly undoes me.
It’s charged. Heavy. Full of everything he hasn’t said out loud.
But I feel it—the longing, the hunger, the attraction he’s tried so hard to hide.
He meets my eyes and I answer their question, getting lost in his warm hazel eyes
“Okay.” Heat flames under my skin, a fresh wave of slick pooling between my thighs before I can stop and think too deeply about what agreeing means.
I squeeze my legs together, trying to ignore the way my body is already responding to them. Trying to ignore the fact that I suddenly want them. All of them.
Cass’s breathing hitches. Quinn’s scent heightens and swirls around me. JP’s jaw tightens, his pupils dilate and with a final look my way…he walks out.