Page 72

Rude.

Love you, too.

What about you, Mel?

Hello? Did the judge finally lock your crazy ass up?

MELLIE.

Mellie

Just making sure you actually know my name. Now go handle your shit, I’ve gotta work too. Love you.

Daphne

*Sigh* Fine, I’ll be an adult.

Love you too, even if you didn’t help one bit.

DO IT FOR THE TURTLES

DAPHNE

It’sstrange seeing Pack Morgan without the heat distracting us. Laughter when someone drops something, off-key singing to annoy the others. Inside jokes and comfortable, familiar looks of people who actually like spending time together.

Not that I’m set up on our shared front porch, creeping. Definitely not.

Although, who could blame me? Nate and Dez took their shirts off the second I sat down. They strut around like peacocks, flashing me coy smiles, well-earned muscle and every bruise I sucked into their skin. I’ve never been so turned on with such little effort. It’s disgusting.

In contrast, Connor’s taken the Victorian-ankle approach. Fully clothed in jeans and a Henley, the only glimpses of skin I get are those long fingers I can still see on my body and his gorgeous face. Until he wipes his brow, baring the entirety of his lean stomach and the sting ray tattoo along his hip that I want to lick all over again.

He covers up the second he catches me staring, but he doesn’t look away. A shock since he’s heavily avoided eye contact since the shower incident. While the others have been doingtheir utmost to get my attention, Connor’s been trying to blend into the foliage.

Does he not feel this tether between us? This wave of energy and connection. This unfathomable potential.

There’s something in his face that makes me think he does, but then it’s gone and so is he.

I get a flash of lower back and an ass straining against his clothes when Connor leans over to grab a stack of cardboard for recycling, disappearing into their garage.

“This is cruel and unusual punishment,” I mutter, squeezing my water bottle.

“Problem, gorgeous?”

My unfortunate habit of startling around this pack means my hand crushes the plastic, drenching my shirt and giving Dez a prime view of my tits beneath. His gaze drops for a stilted moment, then he growls, teeth bared at a couple meandering down the sidewalk. They aren’t even looking our way, but he lets them know fast to keep their eyes averted.

Such a good protector.

Oh my fuck, I need to chill.

Hoping to sound as collected as possible when I’m drenched in more places than one, I ask, “What’re you doing, Dez?”

“Came to invite you to dinner. Delivery will be here soon.”

I debate saying no because ogling or not, these men feel dangerous in the way that only taking chances can, but the lure of an effort-free meal is too tempting. The week after my heat, I prefer to play slug. A pretty slug that doesn’t cook or clean. I want to do nothing but live in mybecome one with the sofaera.

Dez smirks like this is another thing he justunderstandsabout me.“You don’t have to lift a finger. We’ll even feed you if you ask nicely.”

That does sound nice. Delicious food with delicious men, even if one pretends he’s never been inside me.