28. Sterling
STERLING
W hen Quinn pulls me toward him, my breath stutters.
He settles me between his legs, his knees closing until they touch both sides of my hips. Cass is still at my back, his big hands resting at my waist.
“You ready, sweetheart?” Quinn’s voice is low, deep, curling through my body like smoke.
I swallow hard and nod.
With a slow, deliberate drag of his cheek along my neck, his stubble grazing over my skin, igniting a thousand tiny sparks. His scent blooms around me, covering me with its deliciousness.
It’s instant—calming and grounding.
My Omega purrs with satisfaction, proud to be marked.
An almost euphoric sense of belonging settles over me, warm and golden, before a wave of arousal crashes into me like a tidal wave.
I’m buzzing with anticipation, my body humming with need, every nerve ending lit up and aching for more. I blink up at him, floating. He’s quiet. And still. Just watching me. A soft smile plays across his lips: he looks content. “Wait, you’re not gonna…?”
He chuckles, his lips brushing my neck. “As much as I want to bury myself inside you right now, we’ve got something else planned.”
I twist slightly to look at Cass, my cheeks flushed, still catching my breath. “Something else?”
Cass grins, wicked and warm. “Tonight’s our first date night.”
My heart skips. “Wait…what?”
“We’re taking you on a proper date. Right here. No pressure. No sex—unless you want to.” Cass nuzzles against my neck, his hands smoothing down my sides.
“We’re gonna make junk food,” he says between kisses. “Order greasy takeout, eat it in bed or on the couch. Snuggle. Watch scary movies. The trashier, the better.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed and warm all over for an entirely different reason now.
“That’s your idea of a date night?” I ask, blinking in disbelief—because they just listed, word for word, the exact evening I’d dream up if anyone had ever bothered to ask me.
Cass just grins like he knows it.
“What about Blake?” I ask quietly, the question slipping out before I can stop it. The last thing I want is to be the reason they’re not with him—he’s their world.
Cass’s expression softens, something warm flickering in his eyes. “Blake’s taken care of, songbird,” he says gently. “He’s spending the long weekend with his grandma. They’ve probably already eaten a whole tub of ice cream and are halfway to the water park by now.”
Then he smirks, smug and proud. “Told you—we had a plan.”
And then from somewhere deeper in the house—my bedroom, I realize—comes Quinn’s voice, lazy and far too smug. How did he slip in there so fast? Without me realizing? “Sterling,” he calls in a funny sing-song voice. “I’m already in your nest.”
Cass chuckles and tilts his head. “You better go check on him. He might be nesting in your blankets like a feral cat. Or he might be in your underwear drawer.”
I laugh, roll my eyes, and shuffle down the hallway. “It’s literally 11:30 in the morning,” I call out. “We can’t go back to bed.”
I push open the bedroom door and freeze.
Quinn is lying in the center of my nest like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Shirt off, bare feet, hair mussed, the picture of too comfortable. One hand is behind his head, while the other is patting the spot beside him.
“You’re ridiculous.” I bite my lip to hide my smile.
“If you pull the blinds, it’s basically nighttime,” he says, waggling his eyebrows like it’s the most logical thing in the world.
I snort. “You can’t just manipulate time like that.”
“I’m an Alpha,” he replies, entirely too pleased with himself. “Pretty sure it’s in the manual.”
Still laughing, I crawl into the nest beside him—and he immediately pulls me into his arms, wrapping around me with that unfair combination of strength and softness that makes my chest ache.
Cass enters a moment later, rolling his eyes like this whole thing is somehow ridiculous. He toe-kicks off his boots, muttering something about “overgrown puppies,” but the second he settles in next to me, I melt between them like butter on warm bread.
Cass leans over to grab my discarded laptop from last night and hands it to me with one hand, casually pulls my leg into his lap with the other.
I could get very used to all this touching.
“What are we going to watch?” I ask, trying to sound casual, but my voice comes out high and squeaky—probably because Quinn’s hands have snuck beneath my shirt and are now lazily tracing lines along my stomach, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind.
We eventually land on an Indiana Jones binge, mostly because I confessed my ridiculous love of cheesy ’80s movies…right after they ambushed me with a tickle war that nearly had me peeing my pants.
Quinn is ruthless. Cass is a traitor. I loved every second of it.
Once we’ve all settled in—me curled up between them, laptop perched nearby, snacks within reach—the kind of happiness that steals your breath, blankets over me like a warm tide.
It’s perfect.
Warm. Safe. Familiar in a way that shouldn’t be possible. Like we’ve done this a hundred times before.
But as the opening credits roll and Quinn gently plays with my hair and Cass strokes the curve of my calf in slow, absent circles, something unexpected blooms in my chest.
An ache. A hollow space.
I miss JP.
I don’t know when it happened—when he carved himself so deeply into me—but his absence is a physical weight in this perfect little moment. Like part of the picture is missing.
And no matter how hard I try not to think about it, I do.
I want him here too.
As I rest my head against Quinn’s chest and feel Cass’s hand curve protectively over my hip, my heart tugs.
Because JP isn’t here.
And no matter how perfect this is…it doesn’t feel quite whole without him.