Page 170

The tension in the room eases slightly.

"Can we watch it in my nest?" The question leaves my mouth before I think about it.

Three sets of eyes immediately swing toward me, and I can feel my cheeks warm.

"What?" I ask.

Clint is the one who answers.

"First of all, that's not a nest."

I blink. "It is."

"It's a bedroom with seventeen blankets and approximately forty-seven pillows."

"Those numbers feel made up."

"He just gave you a very scientific estimate." Tripp nods and I roll my eyes.

"Since you're staying, we should make you a real nest."

I bite my lip before I can stop myself, and slick gushes from my core.

Tripp lets out a dramatic groan.

"Omega."

"What?"

"You can't do that."

"Do what?" I stare at him.

“Scent the kitchen like it’s a dessert factory. All I can taste and smell is black cherry almond,” he growls, adjusting himself in his jeans.

Twenty minutes later, we're ordering Panda Express. Clint insists he gets Orange Chicken, Tripp gets Black Pepper Sirloin, and Briggs chooses Mushroom Chicken. I figure I’ll steal from all of them, and throw Chow Mein noodles and Chicken Egg Rolls in the cart.

An hour after that, we're piled in my room, surrounded by blankets and takeout containers. The Running Man plays on the television, but we’re only half paying attention.

My feet end up in Tripp’s lap as Clint leans in and Lady-and-the-Tramps my eggroll while I’m dishing up some Mushroom Chicken.

The movie keeps playing, and at some point, Briggs starts playing with my hair.

I finish eating, set my plate on the nightstand, and lean into Briggs. That’s when I realize that even with everything going on, I’m not feeling afraid anymore. Hell, I’m not even pissed at Hunter at the moment.

I feel safe, loved, and at home.

Chapter

Forty-Nine

Tripp

The credits roll on The Running Man, the background music fading. We're a pile of limbs and blankets, and full of cheap Chinese food. Autumn's nestled against Briggs, her head on his chest, and I'm stretched out at the foot of the bed like a lazy dog. Clint's sprawled on her left, one hand resting on her thigh.

I close my eyes and start drifting off when I feel it. A soft pressure against my jeans, right over my cock.

My eyes snap open. Autumn's foot is rubbing against me through the denim. She's looking at me through her lashes with that innocent face she wears, but her eyes spark with mischief.