Chapter 29 #2
At the end of the hall, the guest room door is open a crack, warm light spilling out into the hallway in a thin wedge. Through the gap, I see Elowen moving around inside, her dark hair loose around her shoulders, folding something small and setting it on the dresser.
Cliff goes straight to her door, his knuckles rapping softly against the door frame. She turns, a little startled, her hands stilling.
"Come to my room when you're ready for bed," he says. It’s not a command, but it leaves no room for discussion.
Elowen looks at him for a moment, then nods. "Okay," she says softly.
Then Cliff moves on down the hall and I follow, getting a good look at the omega as we pass.
She's standing in the middle of the small room in nothing but a towel. Her long hair looks freshly blown dry, falling in dark waves down her back.
The towel is wrapped high, barely covering the swell of her breasts, and tucked right above them. My eyes trace the line of her collarbones, down to where the fabric dips between her breasts. I can see the curve of her hips where the towel ends, leaving her legs bare.
Fuck, I want to unwrap her like a present.
“Raff?” Cliff says my name, and I realize I’m still standing in front of Elle’s door, staring like a creeper. “You coming?” he asks with a knowing smile.
He has to be hard too.
I can sense it.
I shake out my hands as I step into the master bedroom.
The room is big, with a massive bed as the centerpiece.
It’s a custom alpha-king, so wide it takes up most of the far wall, with a dark wooden headboard and a frame that sits low to the ground.
There are four pillows on each side, more blankets than any reasonable number of people could need, and a reading lamp on each nightstand that casts the room in warm, low light when Cliff clicks one on.
This is where we all usually end up sleeping.
Some nights it starts as one person and ends as all of us, piled together in various states of consciousness and fucking, limbs overlapping and the combined scents of the whole pack soaking into every fiber of every blanket.
It's the best fucking room in the house.
Cliff moves to the linen closet in the corner and pulls out two extra blankets, tossing them onto the bed. He starts layering them, smoothing them out, and I move to the other side and do the same, tucking the corners in.
"She's going to need more pillows," I say, looking at the arrangement.
"There are extras on the shelf." He jerks his chin toward the closet without looking up.
I grab two more and toss them onto one side of the bed, and then we both stand there for a second looking at it.
"She’s going to love this," I say. Not because I'm certain of it, but because I’m praying it's true.
"I hope this inspires her to nest." Cliff moves around the end of the bed toward me, and the shift in his energy is immediate and unmistakable.
The quiet domesticity of making a bed evaporating in the space of two steps, replaced by something that makes the air in the room feel different. Thicker. More deliberate.
He stops in front of me and I meet his eyes straight on. I have an inch on him in height, but he's broader than me by a significant margin and absolutely knows how to use every inch of it.
“Raff.” Cliff reaches out and grabs the front of my shirt without any preamble whatsoever, pulling me in until there's nothing between us, and says against my mouth, "I've been thinking about fucking you all goddamn day."
Then he kisses me.
We don't do gentle with each other. We never have.
There's no easing into it, no soft preliminary press of lips. When Cliff kisses me, it's all teeth and intention, his mouth coming down on mine with the kind of force that makes the back of my neck prickle.
I grab the pack alpha’s jaw with both hands and plunder his mouth, feeling the scrape of stubble against my palms, tasting smokey, dark chocolate and musk.
His hands find my hips and he walks me backward until my ass hits the dresser, and I pull him in by the collar until there's no space left between us. His body is a wall of solid muscle and heat and six years of knowing exactly where to put his hands to make my brain go completely offline.
I bite his lower lip hard enough to make him pull back half an inch, his eyes dropping to my mouth with an expression that says he's deciding what to do about that.
"I can't wait to see you fuck her," he says, his voice dropping in a way that makes my dick throb against my zipper.
"Yes," I growl against his mouth and kiss him again.
Cliff’s hands slide from my hips around to my lower back, pulling me in harder, and I grip the back of his neck and hold him there, kissing him deep and slow.
A soft sound comes from the doorway.
We break apart.
Elowen is standing at the threshold in a matching pajama set, little purple shorts that barely clear the tops of her thighs and a tank top stretched tight across her pretty tits. The thin fabric is practically see-through, giving me the perfect view of her dark nipples.
And the look on her face is everything.
Her lower lip is caught between her teeth as her dark eyes drift over every inch of where we’re touching.
"Sorry," she says, her voice coming out a little breathless. "I didn’t mean to interrupt. The door was open."
"Don't apologize, omega." Cliff purrs, releasing me but keeping his eyes locked on our omega. He takes a deliberate step toward her, his voice dropping to that low, commanding tone that makes my cock swell. "We were talking about you."
He stops in front of her, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to meet his gaze. His hand comes up to trace the line of her jaw, his thumb brushing over her bottom lip.
"Now, get in bed."