CHAPTER 30 #2
I’m vulnerable. Exposed. I don’t have the strength to mask the way I’m feeling.
Everything inside of me feels scraped too thin, too tender to the touch.
I’m a more distant version of myself than I usually am, like I’m watching from somewhere outside of my own skin.
I’m trying to hold myself together, hands shaky and soul tattered.
And still … I can’t quite make myself move.
Not yet. Not when my nest is the only place I can breathe without breaking.
“I … don’t know,” I reply honestly.
He slips into the room uninvited. I don’t say anything, but instead, I turn over in my nest and face him. I have to wrap my hand around the bottom of my belly to help me move.
“Does it hurt?” he asks, gesturing to my stomach with a quick chin jerk.
I shake my head. “No. It feels wonderful when she moves. Not so much when she’s on my bladder, but when she’s just slowly turning, it’s the best feeling in the world.”
Finian stares at me with stars in his eyes.
I can tell he wants nothing more than to close the distance between us and pull me into his arms. His hands clench and unclench beside his thighs.
His eyes trail up and down my body in a slow perusal.
And the worst part—the part I hate admitting to myself—is that some deep, primal part of me wants that too.
Every time any of them is around me, my body leans toward them before my mind can stop the movement.
My body gravitates toward them, like it remembers something soft and safe that I no longer trust.
I won’t let that happen.
I can’t.
They hurt me too badly. Carved something out of me that I’m not sure will ever grow back again.
They’ve treated me like I was just some unnamed omega passing through their lives, not their scent match mate or the person carrying their child.
That betrayal hurts more than any other.
It’s a bruise that hasn’t faded. A reminder that wanting someone doesn’t necessarily mean they won’t break you.
Yet my mind and body aren’t speaking the same language.
At all. My heart stutters whenever they’re around, aching with longing and love.
Aching with a feeling that I don’t have the strength to extinguish.
My body remembers their closeness, the belonging, the heat between our bodies as we fell into a tangle of desire and euphoria.
My head, though … my head is fighting, clawing, and screaming that I can’t go back to that place where I was so small and unseen.
So, I lie here caught between the two halves of myself.
I want to refuse. I want to accept. I want them both with the same breath, feeling the pull toward the three of them like they’re my gravity and they’re pulling me in.
It’s something I want to brace myself against falling for them, but I fear there will be nothing I can do to stop it.
My stomach growls again—loud, insistent, and impossible to ignore. Finian’s chuckle is soft but warm, like he’s been waiting for the exact sound. “Come down and eat. Wolf cooked this massive, famous shrimp spaghetti with breadsticks and a side salad.”
The words alone make my mouth water. There’s no use in pretending to resist. I’m starving.
Hunger pulls me forward before pride can catch up.
I shift toward the edge of the nest, pushing myself up.
The moment I start to climb out, I’m acutely aware of his presence.
I can feel his eyes practically burning into my skin.
His focus, the way the air seems to tighten between us.
As I back up, easing myself down, I feel the heat rise to my cheeks when I hear the telltale sign of Finian enjoying the view. I don’t have to look to know he’s watching me. I hear it, low and guttural. It’s unguarded and instinctive, like the sight of me knocks the breath right out of him.
“Fuck me,” I hear his whisper.
A small, wicked spark flickers inside me. I let my hips sway just a little more than necessary, a subtle shift, a silent dare. It’s nothing. It’s just gravity, just movement. But I know better.
It’s just us.
What I don’t expect—what steals the breath right out of me—is the sudden warmth of hands settling on my hips.
Fingers curl around my belly, holding me, steadying me, but not too tightly.
They’re gentle. Steady. Careful. Finian helps me down as if it’s the most natural thing in the world to be touching me.
I gasp at his grip. I can’t help it. His touch sends a bright, startling rush of adrenaline through me, like every nerve ending under my skin wakes up all at once.
My body reacts on autopilot before my brain can for a single coherent thought.
Heat blooms low and fast. I hate how easily it happens; how instinctive it feels.
“Let me help,” he says, voice rough and guttural.
He’s close enough I can feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck, close enough that his scent curls around me. It’s devastating familiar. It hits me harder than I want to admit. I feel alive when he's near, the world sharpening instead of blurring.
I shouldn’t want this.
I shouldn’t want him.
Right now, though … with his hands steadying me and my pulse tripping over itself, there is no telling what my body is capable of.
My back slides down Finian’s front as he shifts me slightly.
His chest presses flush against my spine, every ridge of his hard body molding to my back, like he’s claiming every inch.
He holds me tighter, his strong arms wrapping slowly up my sides and around my front, pulling me deeper into his embrace until there’s no space left between us.
The fullness of his cock presses against my barely clothed ass.
Feeling the evidence of his arousal pressing against me makes my pussy clench around nothing.
I don’t know if he does it consciously, but he grinds his cock against my ass before he catches himself.
My mouth falls open in a soft gasp, eyes sliding shut as his face presses against the side of my neck.
His hot breath fans over my skin. I feel his lips press there, firm and insistent, sucking gently at the pulse point that throbs under his touch.
A low groan vibrates from his throat, rumbling through me.
“I want you so badly,” he murmurs, voice rough with need, before his mouth claims my neck again in a deeper kiss, teeth grazing just enough to send shivers racing down my arms.
I can’t help the moan that rumbles in my chest, the sound making him purr.
“So, so badly,” he repeats, his words muffled against my skin as one hand slides up, just barely stopping before he touches my breast. His mouth brushes kisses along my shoulder before he finally releases me and takes a reluctant step back.
“We need to leave before I forget myself and take what I want,” he declares, making me clench my legs together as need barrels through me.
I mean … would that be such a bad thing?