Page 147 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

Her scent broke open. Want, relief, fear, and the wild violet note of a bond she was beginning to trust.

I kissed her stomach through my shirt. She moaned.

Hudson caught her waist from behind.

“And these babies,” I said against her belly, “are very much part of the want. But they aren’t the cause of it.”

Mary’s hand slid into my hair. “So you were listening.”

“Of course.”

“Did you hear the part where I asked for at least one girl?”

“I did.”

“Any thoughts on that?”

Hudson kissed the side of her neck. “I think any daughters of yours would be terrifying.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“It was to me.”

I laughed against her stomach as Mary’s fingers tightened in my hair, and her scent bloomed in the air.

Hudson felt it too. “Bedroom,” he said.

Mary turned her head enough to look at him. “That sounded like a command.”

“It was an order,” I said, rising.

“I like it.” Her eyes darkened. She didn’t object to Hudson when he guided her back into her room, or when I closed the door, or when Hudson sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her between his knees.

“Tell us yes,” he said.

Mary’s breath shook. “Yes.”

“Now tell us what you want,” I said.

She tilted her head back against my chest, eyes closing. “I want to feel like I have a pack. Like I’m wanted.”

Hudson’s control fractured in his scent first, then in his face. “We are your pack and you’ll always be wanted,” he said.

He kissed her, with his hands framing her face while I slid the shirt from her shoulders. She wore nothing beneath it. Her skin warmed under my palms as I kissed the slope of her neck.

My mouth lingered at her neck, and her knees softened.

“You liked that before,” I said.

“I like it now.”

Hudson’s hand moved to her belly. “And this?”

Mary looked down at his palm. “Yes.”

He kissed her stomach, then lower, until her breath broke and her hands shook.