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“Missed you.” He nuzzles, all cat-bear-puppy-dog-alpha, desperate to rub me in his scent.
Thank hell for my layers.
All these shirts, and he may as well be huffing my scars.
I can’t escape—and most of me doesn’t want to—so I drag his arms to my waist, far from the creepy-crawly part of my neck. “I was just here.”
“Why’d you leave?” He rests his chin on my shoulder.
My throat works. “You were busy.”
“Bish was busy.” Dutch’s laugh tickles my ear. “I was just getting used. You’re more important.”
“Used? But it looked like you were enjoying—”
Stop talking, mouth.
“Totally was. But Bish would never treat you like that.” Dutch whirls me, fluttering wet lashes. “We’ll worship you. Together.”
My mask must be holding better than I thought.
Otherwise, he’d realize how not a problem it would be for he or Bish or all of them together to pin me their favorite surface and treat me any fucking way they want.
Mentally, I’m theirs.
Physically is the mess.
Dutch leans in with a sticky whisper. “Don’t worry. My knot is pristine. Been saving my dick virginity for you.”
My pheromones rear.
I wrench back lemon and the start of something worse.
Bishop’s office is cursed.
“What are you still doing here?” The incubus strides out of the bathroom in a crisp, grey suit that sets off the evil flecks of green in his hazel eyes.
In a silky tie with his dark hair styled away from his clean forehead, Bishop is sleek and sexy professional.
Only the dent in his cheek gives him away.
That crooked grin hits like a secret whisper.
It’s all yours.
“Go, minions. Fly to the department store.” Bish flicks the air. “Don’t skip anything on my list. It’s all necessities.”
Reese checks his phone. “Even the five-grand air purifier?”
“Especially the air purifier. What if our mate is allergic to tropical pollen?”
I’m always on team air purifier, but tropical?
I was envisioning a quick flight across the border. Not some exotic destination a worryingly long plane ride away.
My pulse picks up, but before I can ask, Dutch squeezes me to his chest. “You run errands. Let me stay with Solly. I’m the bodyguard.”
“Sure.” Bishop arches a groomed brow. “Then you’ll take care of booking the plane and arranging the supply shipment and bribing customs and—”
