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I swallow. “Okay.” I curl my fingers in, wishing for my hoodie to hide under and wait for what he had in mind.
“Come here,” he whispers. The intimacy of the elevator as his palm wraps around the back of my neck and he bares his throat to me, urging me to nuzzle into him, is almost too much, but I go. “Wrap your arms around me, brush your wrists along my back. Rub against my neck. That’s it. Just like that, princess.”
I run my fingers over his expensive suit, gliding my wrists over the fabric, my pheromones making it really easy as they seep from my pores being this close to him.
“Good, now rub your cheek over mine.” The words are a purr, almost a soft rumble of sound.
Running my cheek over his, where day-old scruff grazes his skin, feels like tracing the edge of a rugged, unexplored terrain. Each bristle is a whispered promise, a tactile connection to his raw masculinity.
The sensation is a gentle dance between texture and tenderness, a subtle friction that ignites a spark of intimacy, reminding me of the untamed allure that lies beneath his exterior. It’s like tracing the contours of a whispered secret, a tangible symphony of vulnerability and strength that leaves a lingering imprint on my senses. I pull away with my heart in my throat, and my breath frozen in my lungs. What was that?
Touching someone like this is personal and intimate in ways I haven’t allowed myself to hope for or want since my parents were murdered. His palm falls away from the back of my neck and, with his sunglasses in place, I can’t read his eyes. I blink rapidly and move back to between the three of them.
Felix reaches for me before I can find my center. “My turn,” he says.
My perfume blooms as he pulls me into his smaller frame, but he runs his face along my neck. His breath ghosting over the shell of my ear, his cheek nuzzling me as his fingers hold my hips like a lifeline. My fingers thread into his colorful hair as I arch my neck, allowing him to mark me with his scent.
Need, strong and pure, pulses between my legs as he sets me back into my spot between them. I can no longer distinguish where my perfume ends and their musk starts. We really smell like a pack.
“Saint, your turn,” Austin says.
Dean tenses before he turns slowly around. As I look into his eyes, I glimpse pain, like a fleeting shadow clouding his gaze. His brown eyes hold the raw ache I’ve unintentionally triggered, and it tugs at something deep inside me.
Remorse tightens my chest as I witness the impact of my thoughtless words from earlier, a silent connection passing between us. The weight of his hurt presses down on me, igniting an urge to mend what I’ve unknowingly damaged. I had meant my words. I didn’t want a pack, but the way he took them–that I somehow thought they could force themselves on me, it made my heart ache.
“Dean–” I start.
“No. Let’s get this over with.”
He isn’t soft like the other two. He lifts my wrist and drags it over his face, the prickle from his not yet visible blond scruff scraps across my skin. Then he lifts his shirt and rubs my skin against his sides.
“I won’t have my shirt on fighting,” he says without looking at me as my fingers curl tighter into my palm instead of along his skin.
He’s all flame, and I am catching fire. Then he drops my wrist and raises his arm, running it over my neck, leaving a trail of his leather and lemon scent.
The air carries a tantalizing fusion of rugged leather and zesty lemon, creating an intriguing olfactory dance as he steps back. The rich warmth of leather intertwines with the bright zestiness of lemon, forming a harmonious symphony that awakens my senses and makes me want to climb him like a tree.
I suck in a shaky breath as he turns back toward the door of the elevator and punches the stop button back into the wall like it offends him; the elevator starts its descent and I’m left wondering how I didn’t even notice they had stopped it. That had been the furthest thing from my mind. And now that I am practically vibrating with need, they could probably convince me that sex in an elevator is a great idea.
When the door slides open, Dean almost tears the decorative iron door that blocked us from the lobby off as he pushes it away. Then he is stalking across the long expanse of marble floor to the doors. Paparazzi converge just outside the door in a mass I have never seen before. Except on the TV.
“Saint, wait. We exit as a pack.” Austin’s command stops him, and he holds himself still until we are a step behind him, and then he leads the way without another word.
I straighten my shoulders as the doorman holds the door open for us, and the chaos of voices descends on us. Shouted questions similar to the first time echo in my ears as Austin’s palm lands on my lower back, and he leads the way to the waiting car. My mouth is dry, and I hold my breath, a fake smile plastered to my face as fear grows inside of me. What if they see me and know it’s me? They will come for me and Sin. A mask won’t hide their identities from me. I’d know them even with half their face covered.
As the door shuts between us, muffling their shouts and blocking off their line of sight, I suck in a breath. Swallowing hard, I grip my knees and hug the other door as the others settle into their seats.
“Fucking vultures,” Felix mutters.
“They are serving a purpose,” Austin replies. “No one will blink an eye when Audrey attends the party thrown by Valentine next weekend.”
“Shit, next weekend?” Felix’s eyes go wide as he looks at me.
“Yeah, if we can get it done during the party, our little omega will be free.” He looks out the window, and the only eyes on me are Felix’s when I flinch. That is what I want. To be free. Right?
CHAPTER27
Austin
