Page 30 of All Packed Up

Wendy rolled her eyes and tightened her knees around his hips. He hadn’t even noticed that they’d fallen to the side. “Like you don’t get anything out of it.”

He chuckled and tasted the mirth on her lips before dragging his kisses south and positioning his lips over her pussy again, where her scent was the strongest.

“Ready?”

“Been ready, lover boy. Chop-chop.”

Nic heard the breathiness in her voice and loved that she tried to hold onto that attitude. It was like a challenge, he realized. She was challenging him to please her, and he was challenging himself to see if he could eat the attitude out of her.

A flicker of light caught his eye, and he saw his phone light up from the nightstand. That was probably Arlo and Tate. Were they at the door? Or on their way back?

Wendy let out a whine, and Nic decided he didn’t fucking care. They could leave it at the door. They’d figure out what was going on.

But maybe he should make her moan a little louder, you know, to really get the message across.

With an arousal-coated grin, he did just that.

Chapter 8

WENDY

Wendy smiled. Like, really smiled. Her cheeks hurt actually. Maybe she should stop?

Except she didn’t want to. She knew that the alphas were pissed, certainly looking for her. Her heat cycle was progressing, and she was dragging around a fifteen-pound cat.

And yet… she felt safer than she had in a while. Nic, though he was someone she’d only met two days ago, was someone worth trusting.

Maybe it was because Nic had just given her back-to-back orgasms. Or maybe it was because he had this dopey little smile on his elegant features as he left the room to go retrieve the snacks. She smiled after him, unfamiliar with the lightness in her chest.

Left to her own thoughts, she wondered where she would be right now if she hadn’t run.

Probably not coasting the high from the orgasms Nic had coaxed out of her with his tongue and fingers alone.

You know where you’d be.

Her hand lifted to her neck, covering that fucking bite mark. It sent shivers dancing over her skin, and not in a good way. It was long healed over, now just a shiny scar. A mark.

Wendy glanced down at her lap, chewing her lip, doubting herself. She stroked her thumb over the soft blankets and glanced around the room. It was unfamiliar, done in deep walnut tones with pale walls and matching accents. Even though it was unfamiliar, it still felt safer than the cold luxury of Derek’s home.

Her stomach twisted sharply at the thought of the alpha, the distant tug of him sitting within her like a stone.

She was right to run. Another heat in that home wouldn’t be a safe space with giggles and dumb jokes and soft touches and softer words.

Those alphas might have worn expensive suits, might have bought the thickest blankets available, but none of the money they used to control their lives interested her. Not if the price was giving up her own autonomy.

“What are you wearing?” A sharp voice echoed down to her from the second floor.

For a split second, Wendy considered leaving anyway. But pretending she hadn’t heard him wouldn’t do her any favors.

Dropping her hand from the doorknob, Wendy stepped back, craned her neck up to the balcony rail above, and cleared her throat. “I’m going for coffee with Alaina,” she spoke clearly, the full name awkward on her tongue. But she’d learned the first time never to call her friend by her preferred nickname, Al, ever again.

At least not in front of the alphas.

“In that?” Derek scoffed. “You know a client of mine has a debut this weekend. If the tabloids get sight of you…”

Wendy stiffened, feeling every thread of her plain jeans and a worn plain tee against her skin. At least it was covered with a sweater. That would score her some points, right?

“What’s wrong with this?” she asked. “You picked out this sweater.”