Page 187 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

Hudson kissed her neck. “They’re very young. Their scandal threshold is low.”

She laughed, then gasped when his mouth found the sensitive place below her ear.

I bent and kissed her belly. Stretch marks had appeared in the seventh month, pale and silver at first, then deeper. Mary had glared at them in the mirror and called them “decorative lightning.” I had nearly gone to my knees then too.

Now I kissed each line I could reach. “Ours,” I said against her skin.

She shook.

Hudson cupped her breast, careful at first, then firmer when she arched into his hand. Her nipple peaked under his thumb. He knew her body now, knew where pregnancy had made her tender, where pressure soothed, where softness frustrated her because she wanted to be touched like a woman and not a medical condition.

“Tell us if anything hurts,” he murmured.

“It hurts that you’re both still wearing clothes.”

“A solvable problem,” I said.

And we solved it in a rush.

Mary laughed when Hudson’s cuff caught on his watch. I nearly tore my shirt getting it over my head because patience had become a nuisance. By the time we were naked in the nest with her, her laughter had gone soft and breathless.

We positioned her carefully on her side, pillows under her belly, Hudson behind her, me in front. No weight on her. No pressure where it didn’t belong. She was bracketed between us, warm and wet and trembling with trust.

I wanted to bite her, but only when she asked.

Hudson’s mouth moved over her shoulder. His hand slid down to cup her belly while mine slipped between her thighs.

She was slick enough that my fingers glided through her easily.

“Oh,” she breathed.

“So wet and ready,” I said.

“So empty.”

Hudson laughed against her skin.

I stroked her slowly, watching every change in her face, her brows pulling together, her lips parting, the way her hand gripped Hudson’s wrist over her belly when pleasure startled her, and the way she tried to hold back sounds when Hudson kissed a spot on her neck.

“Don’t tease me today,” she said. “I just need you both.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I said.

Hudson’s hand closed gently around her breast. “You don’t want us to behave?”

“No,” Mary whispered.

I smiled against her thigh. “No?”

“Don’t behave.” That was our Mary, soft enough to ask for tenderness and brave enough to ask for more.

Hudson kissed her first, deep and slow, one hand braced on the pillow and the other spread over her belly. Mary moaned into his mouth while her hips shifted toward my hand with the impatience of a woman who had waited ten minutes and considered that too long.

“Are you okay, omega?” Hudson asked.

“Yes, alphas.” She looked at me. “But I need more.”

I moved between her thighs, careful with her hips, careful with the pillows supporting her belly, not careful at all with the way I looked at her. She needed to see it. I wanted her to see it. Nothing in me found her too big, too much, or too pregnant to want.