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His fingers worked her nipple until it was a rigid peak. “Are you feeling better?” Because he was so hard he hurt, aching for her. Her breath hitched, her slight nod all permission he needed to unbutton the shirt and suck the tip deep into his mouth. He groaned.
Oscar started to cry.
Finn slumped, releasing her nipple and staring up at her.
Her cheeks were flushed, that hunger in her green eyes almost making him hand Oscar to Hollis. Or Anders. Or Dante. But Malachi was here.
He pushed off the bed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Are you hungry?” Jessa’s cooed to Oscar, her soft voice washed over him. “Did all that wolf business leave you starving?”
He smiled, she didn’t seem upset about last night, which was a relief. She’d chosen him, but that didn’t mean it would be an easy transition. Watching her scoop up Oscar, her hair spilling over one exposed shoulder, made both his wolf and his heart swell with ownership—and love. He’d never loved like this. Never thought it could exist. Ever. But seeing her with Oscar, watching her smile and laugh filled every missing piece of him with happiness. And it scared the shit out of him. He hadn’t been happy in a long time, and he’d been fine. Good, even. For the first time in years, he had something to lose.
She and Oscar could be taken away from him.
“Jessa.” He stood. “I’m going to get some breakfast started. Come out when he, and you, are dressed.”
“Might take your own advice,” she teased, eyeing his nakedness with open appreciation.
He shook his head. “You’re killing me.” He loved seeing her look at him that way, wanting him the way he wanted her.
“You started it,” she said, the hitch in her voice having an immediate effect on his body. He heard her sharp inhale. “Here,” she said, offering him the medallion.
“I’d like to finish it,” he said, closing the distance between them to kiss her, hard. “But it’ll wait.” He slid on the medallion, tugged on some pajama pants, and left her, not caring that the dirt and blood from the night before still caked his bare skin.
Hollis sprawled in the large chair before the fire, dozing.
Dante gripped a massive cup of coffee, bleary-eyed and brooding.
“Hey,” Anders said, digging through the large refrigerator. “Man, I’m starved.” Finn nodded. The morning after was all about refueling—and sleep. Not that any of them were likely to be getting a lot of sleep for a while.
“Pancakes? Or French Toast?” Anders asked.
“Both,” Dante sounded off.
Anders nodded.
Malachi came in then, rubbing a towel over his shaggy brown hair. “Long as I don’t have to cook it,” he said. He looked at Finn, a mix of anger and hurt and reluctant obedience settling on his features. Then his eyes went wide.
“I’ll cook.” Jessa’s voice. “Can you feed him?” she asked, holding Oscar toward Finn.
He took his son, but his gaze never left Mal.
Mal was staring at Oscar, studying him. Finn saw the sadness, the slight tightening around Mal’s eyes, heard the harsh clearing of his throat. But when he looked at Finn, his smile finally reached his eyes. “He’s a good-looking boy.” He moved closer, stooping to look at Oscar.
Oscar stared up at Mal, all blue eyes and curiosity.
“I don’t mind cooking,” Anders said.
“Neither do I,” Jessa argued. “And I don’t particularly like being useless.”
Anders snorted. “The kitchen is yours.”
She laughed, the sound putting an instant smile on Finn’s face.
Mal’s blatant interest in Finn’s reaction was hard to miss. His brow cocked before he turned his attention to Jessa. “You must be Mrs. Alpha?” It was a head-to-toe inspection, the kind that Finn barely tolerated. When he was done, he nodded, glancing back at Finn.
Jessa looked at Mal, her smile dimming as she glanced between them. “Malachi?” She held her hand out. “Jessa Talbot.”
