Tansy’s Nest
Tansy’s Nest
Tansy
I’m curled up in my nest with Beck, warmth tucked around me on all sides.
The house is quiet in that late-afternoon way that makes my eyelids heavy.
The blankets smell incredible, layered with the familiar scents of Cass, Beck, and Warren.
I’ve quietly stolen their shirts from the laundry, but I still need to get something of Grason’s. Maybe a hoodie.
Beck’s arm is draped loosely around my waist, more present than possessive.
I’m right on the edge of sleep.
Beck, apparently, is not.
He shifts for the third time in a minute, leg bouncing faintly, fingers tapping against my hip like he’s trying not to move and failing miserably. I crack one eye open and look at him.
“You’re vibrating,” I mumble.
He grins unapologetically. “I’ve got too much energy for a nap. I tried. I really did.”
“You didn’t,” I say, closing my eyes again. “You lasted thirty seconds.”
“That’s generous,” he snorts, then carefully slides his arm out from around me.
He moves slowly so he doesn’t jostle me and sits up on the edge of my nest. The movement lets in a little cool air, and I instinctively curl tighter into the blankets, suddenly reminded that I’m only wearing a thin T-shirt and underwear, the fabric barely a barrier against the chill.
Right then, the door opens.
Grason steps in, quiet as always, filling the doorway with his broad frame. He pauses when he sees us, eyes flicking from Beck to me, his expression softening immediately when he realizes I’m half asleep.
“Oh,” he says quietly. “Sorry.”
Beck shakes his head as he stands. “You’re good. I was just leaving.”
Grason’s brows lift. “You were?”
“Yeah,” Beck says easily. “I’ve got way too much energy to nap. I’m going to try and be productive, assuming my ADHD will let me.”
“Have fun,” Grason says.
“Always.” Beck looks down at me. “You comfy?”
I nod, nestling deeper. “Very.”
“Good.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. “I’ll be back later.”
Then the beta heads for the door, pulling out his phone as he slips past Grason. The door clicks shut behind him, leaving the room quiet again.
Grason lingers at the edge of the room, hands clasped loosely in front of him, looking almost shy in a way that doesn’t quite fit his size. His eyes flicker to my nest, then back to me, like he’s too scared to ask permission to enter.
I lift my head just enough to look at him. “You can come in, if you want,” I say softly.
That floors the alpha.
His eyes widen and his breath catches before he nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Okay.” He kicks his shoes off by the door, as if he’s suddenly hyperaware of making noise, then eases down next to the edge of the nest.
The big alpha hesitates again, his fingers hovering over the button of his jeans. "Should I...take these off?" he asks with a grimace.
I look at the denim, the rough, abrasive fabric, and frown. It’s a stark contrast to the soft, plush comfort of my nest. No, rough fabrics are not allowed in my perfect little sanctuary.
I shake my head, my expression serious. "No jeans," I say firmly. “Not in the nest.”
Grason slips out of his jeans, the denim hitting the floor with a soft thud.
He steps out of them, standing in front of me in just a pair of briefs and a thin white T-shirt.
The sight of his thick, muscular thighs and the way the fabric of his briefs hugs his body makes my mouth go dry.
He turns to me, his eyes soft and gentle, and I can't help but feel a quick flutter in my chest.
Moving slowly, he eases down, crawling next to me in the center of my nest. His large frame takes up a significant portion of the space, his head and feet brushing the edges of the nest.
As he settles beside me, the contrast hits me all at once.
Grason is enormous. Broad shoulders, long limbs, solid weight that makes the nest feel smaller with his presence. When he shifts to get comfortable, the blankets bunch and dip, and I instinctively curl toward him, fitting into the space his body creates.
I feel small next to him.
And it surprises me how much I like it.
I’ve always been so much taller than all the other omegas. Too long-limbed to ever feel delicate, always aware of how much space I take up in a room. I learned early how to fold myself inward, how to be less noticeable. But next to Grason, all of that disappears. I don’t have to shrink myself.
I just am.
Grason’s arm comes around me, and I tuck myself against his chest, my head resting right below his shoulder. My cheek presses into the soft cotton of his shirt, and his warmth seeps into me, steady and grounding.
“You okay?” he asks quietly, like he always does.
I nod, fingers curling lightly into the fabric at his side. “Yeah,” I murmur. “I like this.”
His breath eases out of him, and I feel his body relax around mine, like that answer mattered more than he expected.
“You know.” His thumb drifts along my side, a quiet touch through my shirt. “I was actually going to ask if you wanted to walk around the garden with me.” There’s a hint of sheepishness in his voice, like he’s half-expecting me to laugh. “But I like this a lot more.”
I smile, nose brushing his chest as I look up at him. “I would love to walk around the garden with you.”
“Oh, no,” he says, his voice softening as he pulls me a little closer. “I think this might be my favorite place in the world right now.” He lets his fingers rest lightly on my hip, warm and steady, as he traces little circles.
I rest my head back against his firm chest, breathing in his woodsy pine scent.
We lie there for a minute, quiet settling in again, the kind that doesn’t need to be filled right away, his hand warm at my back, careful and steady.
“You left before the movie was over,” I say.
“Yeah.” He hums. “I was talking to Cass.”
His fingers push under the hem of my shirt, grazing my skin. The touch is innocent enough, but each caress of his hand sends a tiny spark of heat shooting through my veins, pooling low in my belly.
“Are you okay?” Grason whispers, his voice suddenly very deep.
I am suddenly hyperaware of every single place our bodies are connected. The heavy weight of his arm draped over me, the hard plane of his chest against my cheek, the way his thigh presses flush against mine.
Even through the layers of fabric, I can feel the heat radiating off him, sinking into my skin.
My heart is hammering against my ribs, a wild, frantic rhythm that I’m sure he can hear.
“Tansy?”
"Yes," I breathe, and the sound is throatier than I intended, laced with a desire I can't hide. “I’m okay.” But even I can hear how off I sound.
Grason’s fingers drift from my hip, skating up my side and over my collarbone until they find the edge of my jaw. He traces the line of it slowly, his touch gentle, before his hand shifts to cup my chin. He applies just enough pressure to tilt my head back, forcing me to meet his gaze.
This close, the impact of him is staggering.
Grason is devastatingly handsome—rugged and powerful in a way that makes my breath hitch.
His dark hair is messy from the pillows, falling over his forehead in soft curls that I have the inexplicable urge to brush back.
His eyes are a deep, smoky hazel with blue near the center.
And his mouth... his lips are full and firm, framed by soft facial hair.
He stares down at me, his eyes searching mine, reading every flicker of emotion that crosses my face.
“Omega,” he growls. "I want to kiss you.” His eyes search mine as my excitement floods my veins.
I swallow hard, then whisper, “Then kiss me.”
I expect the alpha to immediately crash his mouth to mine, but he doesn’t.
Grason shifts his body slowly, sliding down so that we are perfectly aligned, face-to-face.
The movement is slow, dragging out the anticipation until my heart feels like it might beat out of my chest. Then he hovers over me, his mouth just inches from mine, close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath fanning across my lips.
It’s torture.
The promise of the kiss hangs heavily in the air.
He brushes the tip of his nose against mine, a soft, intimate gesture that makes my eyelids flutter shut. He lingers there, breathing me in, and just when I think I can't stand the suspense a second longer, he slowly presses his mouth to mine.
The moment our lips touch, his restraint shatters. It’s instantly passionate, a searing heat that ignites between us. His mouth moves against mine with a desperate, hungry intensity as his hands come up to frame my face.
The kiss is deep and wet, his tongue sweeping into my mouth to tangle with mine, tasting me with a single-minded intensity that drives me absolutely wild.
I melt against him, my body going soft and pliant as a rush of liquid heat pools low in my belly. My pussy is already dripping slick, soaking my panties, my body reacting to his alpha dominance with an immediate, desperate ache.
"Fuck," he breathes against my lips, his voice a low, ragged growl. “You taste like a goddamn addiction.”
His words send a fresh wave of heat crashing through me, and I whimper, the sound desperate and needy, my body arching up against his.
Grason kisses me again, his hands everywhere, exploring, claiming.
He grabs my knee, his grip firm and unyielding as he forces my legs apart, then he rolls us, his body covering mine, pinning me to the soft nest beneath us. I gasp, the sudden movement sending a jolt of pleasure straight to my core.
“So fucking perfect,” he whispers, pushing his hips forward.
I can feel his thick length pressed against my thigh.
He's so big, the heat of him searing through the thin fabric of his briefs.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispers, “and smart and funny and…” A deep growl pushes from his chest. “You fucking wreck me.”