Page 37 of Pack Baby for the Silver Foxes

“Yeah, we can extend our trip and meet you there.”

“Lincoln,” Hudson said. “You’re being too forward.”

For a few breaths, nobody moved.

The sex had been easier than this, in a way. Not emotionally easy, because nothing about being knotted by an alpha while another held you and told you to breathe could be considered casual unless one had suffered a head injury. But the heat had given everything a meaning. When the pain came, they answered. When my need rose, they met it. My body demanded them, and theirs had been there, careful yet obscene in turns.

This was different.

Now I was being held by two men who had gone on touching me after I stopped being in a crisis. Two men who thought I was twenty-three years old, who was in Boston on business. Not a student and two years younger.

“How old are you?” I asked. Maybe they were younger than I thought.

Hudson’s brows lifted.

Lincoln laughed once, low in his chest. “There’s a romantic question.”

“I like to gather information. My sister will want to know all the details.”

Hudson shifted onto one elbow. The movement drew the sheet lower over his waist, which was unnecessary and damaging to my recovery. “Thirty-nine,” he said.

I looked at him.

Then at Lincoln.

“Forty,” Lincoln said.

“Fuck me.”

“We did,” Lincoln said. “Many times.”

“Don’t be smug. You’re old.”

Hudson’s expression remained calm, but his eyes warmed. “We’re not old.”

“You’re forty.”

“I’m forty,” Lincoln said. “He’s thirty-nine. Apparently that matters to him.”

“It matters because it’s true,” Hudson said.

“You have silver in your beard,” I told Lincoln.

He stroked his beard as if considering the legal strength of my argument. “You didn’t object to it yesterday when it was tickling your clit.”

In fact, I’d loved that beard tickling my thighs while his mouth was between them. Thinking back, I was sure I said something regrettable about sainthood. “I was medically compromised.”

Hudson’s thumb moved once over my stomach, a soothing stroke that made my thoughts trip. “You said you liked the silver. You also said you wanted us to put a baby in you.”

“No way.” My eyes widened. “I was delirious.”

“You were very articulate for an omega declaring delirium,” Lincoln said.

“Do you hear this?” I asked Hudson. “This is what happens when men reach an advanced age. They become impossible.”

“Advanced age,” Hudson repeated.

“Practically historical.”