Close Quarters
Lyra
Rourke pulled Shasta against the hard planes of his chest, his emerald eyes burning with a desire that could not be tamed. "You belong to us now, my love," he growled, his voice thick with a hunger that made Shasta’s knees go weak.
Behind her, gentle Sebastian pressed his lips to the curve of her shoulder. "We have waited a thousand lifetimes for you," he whispered, "and we will love you for a thousand more."
I turn the page so fast I nearly tear it.
I found this book this morning, wedged under a stack of cathedral architecture and old library journals on Owen's side of the bed. I asked the beta if it was his before he left for work, and he quickly said no.
Owen is clearly a liar, and I am delighted about it.
My eyes go wide as I read the sensual scene unfold.
I'm sprawled sideways across the couch with my feet up on the armrest, a bowl balanced on my stomach.
My lunch is chocolate puffs and fruit rings mixed together, which sounds insane and tastes incredible.
I shovel in another bite as my eyes fly across the page, reading how poor, tortured Rourke wrestles with whether he's worthy of his omega’s love.
He is. Obviously.
But it's going to take him another two hundred pages to figure that out, and I am here for every agonized second of it.
Something moves down the hall, and I go still, spoon halfway to my mouth. I hear the low creak of Mack’s bed, followed by the soft shuffle of someone moving around.
Mack is finally awake.
He stayed home today. He looked wrecked this morning, with dark circles under his eyes and he was very quiet. After the others left for work, he said he was going to lie down for an hour.
That was almost four hours ago.
I peeked in on him once around noon, and found him dead asleep on top of the covers with one arm thrown over his face. I just backed right out and shut the door.
He clearly needed the rest…that, and I'm still a little nervous around the alpha.
Everything in me wanted to climb into that bed, tuck my face into his neck, and stay there the rest of the day. I had to physically hold myself back. And considering I'm not even sure he even wants me chasing him, doing something so intimate would be humiliating.
It’s okay, I tell myself as I set my bowl and book on the coffee table. We can just be friends.
Mack shuffles into the living room a minute later in nothing but his gym shorts, and my stomach does a slow, embarrassing flip at the sight of him.
His blond hair is a mess, and he's got sleep creases pressed into one cheek right above his beard, but all I can see are the grooved muscles along his chest and abs. Even his arms look extra beefy today.
My mouth actually waters at the sight of him, and I have to fight the urge to cross the room and taste every inch of that impressive body.
"Hey." Mack’s voice comes out rough from sleep. He rubs the back of his neck and glances at the window like he's trying to work out what planet he’s on. "What time is it?"
"A little after three."
That wakes him up, and his hand drops. "Three? In the afternoon?"
"Mm-hm." I stare at the deep V along his hips.
Stop it, Lyra.
I should not have spent my whole afternoon nose-deep in Shasta's filthy love story. Half a paperback in, and I suddenly can't look at a shirtless man without my brain turning into a puddle.
I lift my eyes up to his face and order myself to behave.
"Three o’clock," he repeats, looking genuinely alarmed. "I laid down at eleven."
"You did."
Don’t look at his biceps. Don’t do it!
"Why didn’t you wake me up?" He takes a few steps toward me, his body still loose with sleep.
"I thought about it." I tuck my feet under me, trying to ignore the ache growing between my legs.
"But I decided against it. You looked way too cozy in that big bed all by yourself.
" I smile up at the handsome alpha. "I mean, I don't think I've seen you sit still once since I got here.
You deserved a few hours without me pestering you. "
Mack blinks at me, and his expression softens, going shy around the edges.
"You never pester me." He rocks his weight from one foot to the other, suddenly looking like a man who doesn't know what to do with himself.
"But, thanks." He swallows hard and shoves his hands in his pockets. "For letting me sleep. That was nice."
"You looked like you were running on fumes this morning," I say, tucking my knees up under my chin. "I missed the energetic Mack a little bit."
Mack huffs a soft laugh and rakes a hand back through his messy hair, not quite meeting my eyes.
"The energetic Mack, huh." He’s smiling now. "I don't think anyone's ever told me they missed me being annoying before."
"You're not annoying," I say firmly. "You're funny. And interesting. And you always make the mornings around here so bright."
Mack goes still for a second, that shy thing flickering across his face again. Then his wild grin breaks loose, wide and sexy, the old Mack surfacing all at once.
"You think I’m funny?"
I nod and he presses a hand to his chest like he’s deeply touched.
"Well,” he gives me a sheepish little smile, “as flattered as I am, I can only guess there’s something real wrong with you.” That smile shifts, teasing me. “I mean, I've been telling my damn mates I'm hilarious for five years and not one of 'em believes me."
"Oh, there's definitely something wrong with me." I let out a loud laugh. "I'm a Van Houten, remember? We're all born with a tragic flaw. Mine just happens to be excellent taste."
Mack laughs as he crosses to the couch, folding himself down onto the cushion.
But he leaves a gap between us.
Not a huge one. Just enough space so that our shoulders don't touch. I hate it.
I want him on top of me. Inside me. Biting me.
Stop it!
I prop my chin on my knees and give Mack my best smile, but the alpha isn’t looking at me. His attention is on the book lying face down on the coffee table. He leans forward, and one dark blond eyebrow climbs.
"What's this?" He scoops the book up before I can stop him, turning it over to read the cover. His mouth curves. "Claimed by the Mountain Pack."
Heat shoots up my neck, but I try to act cool. "Put that down before you lose my page."
"No way." He scans my dog-eared page, and his grin spreads wider by the second. "Oh, darlin'. This is filthy." He lifts the book higher, his eyes drifting over the text. "Rourke pulled her against the hard planes of his chest—" He whistles low. "The hard planes. You like that?"
"Give it back." I make a grab for it but Mack holds it out of my reach, laughing.
"I'm just shocked," he says, narrowing his eyes at my face. "All those fancy finishing schools, and nobody taught you to hide your porn better?"
"It's not porn." I snatch the book out of his hand, and clutch it to my chest. "It's a literary exploration of omega desire, and I'm not apologizing for it," I say with my head held high. "I wouldn't expect an alpha to understand."
"Right."
"There's a plot in here," I say, sounding a little more defensive than I’d like. "Rourke and Sebastian struggle with their primal urges. And Shasta has been through genuinely traumatic experiences and her relationship with her pack is—" I stop. He's grinning at me. "Don't look at me like that."
Mack leans in with that playful energy, and my nipples go hard.
"Those hard planes though," he whispers with a smirk.
Kiss me. Please kiss me.
And then his eyes drop to my mouth before lifting slowly back to mine.
My breath goes thin.
He's close, so close that his hazelnut scent pours over me. In fact, all I'd have to do is lean in a few inches and press my lips to his. My body strains toward him, my pulse pounding at the base of my throat, every part of me screaming to kiss him.
But I don't move.
I can't. Because I still don't know if this is the thing I think it is, or just Mack being Mack, teasing an inch from my mouth the way he teases about everything. And if I lean in and I'm wrong, I don't think I could stand it.
"Do you like that kind of thing?" Mack asks, his voice gone careful, his eyes never leaving mine.
"What thing?" My words come out breathy, barely there.
His smirk deepens. And he leans in another fraction, close enough that I feel the warmth of his breath against my lips.
"Alphas who struggle with their primal urges," he murmurs.
I swallow hard, then a single word falls from my lips. "Yes."
Something shifts behind Mack's eyes, the playfulness burning down into something lower and hotter, and I feel the exact moment his restraint gives.
"Thank God," he growls, then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is soft at first, careful, like he's still half-braced for me to change my mind.
I lean into him, my hands finding the warm, bare skin of his chest, and the second I do, the last of his hesitation burns away. His hand slides into my hair, cupping the back of my head. Then he angles my head and deepens the kiss, licking into my mouth ever so slowly.
His hazelnut scent floods my senses until I'm dizzy with it.
"Lyra," he whispers my name as he leans into me, pressing me backwards. He follows me down until I'm flat on my back beneath him.
Mack is so much bigger than me like this, all heavy muscle and heat, and I should feel trapped. I don't. I feel weirdly safe. Like nothing will ever hurt me again.
Mack kisses me until the rest of the world falls away, and all I can feel is his mouth on mine and the slow slide of his tongue.
He works one big hand under my shirt, the calloused heat of it settling against my ribs, climbing higher until it closes over my breast. My back arches as he sweeps his thumb across my nipple, then rolls it between his fingers, and I gasp into his mouth.
"That's it," he breathes against my lips. "Let me hear you."
I do it again when he pinches, making a helpless little sound, and I feel him grin into the kiss.