“Better than okay,” he says, stepping in close and kissing me tenderly, like he knows exactly how unraveled I already am.
Before I can catch my breath, Beau steps through the doorway, grin sharp and wolfish. He whistles low, the sound skating over my nerves.
“Damn, baby,” he says, and then his mouth is on mine too, quick and teasing, his thumb brushing the corner of my lip before he pulls back.
“Are you ready?” Simon asks, his voice all business again, though his eyes are still burning.
I swallow hard, forcing my thoughts into order. “Almost. I just need to touch up my lipstick and grab my bag. And”—I glance at the bouquet waiting on the counter, the soft ivory wrap gleaming in the lamp light—“one of you should grab the flowers. I can’t walk in empty-handed.”
Beau is already crouched on the floor, rubbing Pancake’s belly like it’s his life’s mission. My cat stretches into it, purring like he’s betraying me with every sound.
Beau glances up, dimples flashing. “I got it.”
Simon, still standing close enough that I can feel the heat of him, tilts his head. “I can help you.”
I shake my head, heart racing, and lean in to kiss him again. “No, you can’t. Not when you’re looking at me like that.”
His brows knit, feigning innocence. “Like what?”
“Like you’re two seconds away from pushing me against the wall and—” My voice drops, throat tight. “And fucking me senseless.”
Simon’s eyes darken instantly, his chest expanding under the crisp shirt he’s wearing, the sleeves folded neatly at his forearms.
The sight alone makes my stomach clench. He’s never more dangerous to me than when he’s dressed like this, half professor, half predator.
“I don’t hear you complaining,” he murmurs, voice low enough to make my knees weak.
The memory crashes into me before I can stop it. The last time he looked at me like this—shirt sleeves rolled, glasses abandoned, hands braced on either side of my head—we never made it to the bed.
He’d kissed me against the wall until I was crying into his mouth, his fingers buried inside me, whispering things no one had ever dared say to me before. I remember the scrape of brick against my back, the way his breath had ghosted over my ear as he told me I was his.
The shiver tears through me so hard I grip the wall for balance.
Simon’s smile spreads, like he knows exactly what I’m remembering. He brushes his thumb over my lower lip. “Fine. I’ll behave.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, though the heat running through me betrays how much I don’t want him to.
I step away quickly, needing space before I forget myself. My lipstick waits on the bathroom counter, and I reapply it with a shaking hand, watching my reflection in the mirror.
My cheeks are flushed, my pupils wide. I look like a woman who’s already been thoroughly ruined tonight, and I haven’t even left the apartment yet.
This dinner matters. Tonight is important. Meeting Levi’s parents isn’t something you stroll into flushed and smelling of sex.
The last thing I want is for his mother to take one look at me and know exactly what her son’s packmates were doing to me earlier today.
I breathe out slowly, pressing the lipstick back into its tube. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this.
Back in the living room, Beau is holding the bouquet now, inspecting the roses like he’s the one who arranged them. He looks ridiculously handsome in his dark jeans and button-up, sleeves rolled in the same careless way Simon’s are.
When he notices me watching him, he grins, his dimple cutting deep.
“You’re ready, sweetheart?” he asks.
I nod, even though my stomach is a knot of nerves. I slip the strap of my bag over my shoulder, fingers tightening on the leather. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Simon comes up behind me, his hand pressing lightly against the small of my back. His touch is warm, grounding. “We’ll be right there with you,” he says quietly.
I nod again, too choked up to answer.
