Page 56

Levi

Paris

One Week Later

Della kicks her feet while lying face down on the bed with silk sheets, a box of chocolates beside her, idly flipping the pages of her magazine.

She’s wearing a pink slip that reveals the back of her freckled thighs. Nothing else. The strap slides down her arm as I watch her from the doorway, trying hard not to notice her pebbled nipples, a sign she’s not wearing a bra.

We brought her to Paris to spoil her. Not spend the month we intend to be here in bed having sex and doing little else.

Before we left the States, Della started seeing a therapist. She had a Zoom session and didn’t hate it, so she’s continuing the weekly calls while we’re in Paris. Her nightmares haven’t completely stopped, but they are getting better, and so is she.

I thought she’d be busy getting ready for dinner by now. I should be as well. Xavier and Vince headed out for a short walk. They’ll be back soon and wonder why neither of us has dressed yet.

I cross over to her, perching on the side of her bed.

“Not interested in the restaurant?” I drop a kiss on the top of her head, nuzzling as I inhale her scent. She doesn’t smell sweet like an omega, but she has a scent I can’t get enough of.

She smells like mine.

Vincent made a reservation at Sphère, one of the best restaurants in the city. From our lack of movement, it’s going to be yet another night we order in and spend the evening looking at the Eiffel Tower from our hotel room.

She muffles a yawn with her hand, then glances over her shoulder.

I haven’t buttoned up my shirt yet, and from the look in her eyes, I’m almost positive we’re not going out to dinner.

“Tired.” She smiles. “You guys wore me out.”

“If I remember correctly, that last time, you were sitting on me .”

We’ve all been laughing a lot since we got here—even Vincent. A whole new world of light and laughter has opened up to all of us, and all because of this woman with brilliant blue eyes and red hair that looks like someone crushed a handful of fall leaves together.

She yawns again, snaps the magazine shut, and rolls onto her back, stretching. I dip my head and taste her lips.

Just a taste or nothing will happen tonight but sex.

Della might not be an omega, but she enjoys soft, cozy, and self-indulgent lovemaking, and I love giving it to her. We all do.

“Have I told you recently that I love you?” she whispers against my lips, stroking her hands up and down my back.

My smile grows. “This morning. You can tell me again if you want.”

Her expression is soft. “I love you.”

I brush back her hair from her face. “And I love you, beautiful.”

Our kiss is deepening when a door slams.

Vincent and Xavier walk into the bedroom in dress shirts and black slacks. Vince is carrying a large white paper bag that smells spicy and savory. My stomach immediately grumbles.

“No dinner tonight?” I ask as Della perks up when she spots the bag.

Xavier yawns as he closes the door and takes off his shoes. “If we hadn’t spent this morning fighting with tourists, I’d be more excited about being surrounded by even more of them in a packed restaurant.”

“Who was fighting?” Vincent tosses his coat on a chair and crosses over to us, kissing Della softly. “And yeah, I canceled the reservation. None of us is up to it.”

“How did you know?” I ask him.

“Della was taking too long to dress. Longer than usual,” he adds.

“I don’t take ages to get dressed,” she denies. “And it’s not my fault you keep buying me more clothes and leaving me with impossible choices about what to wear.”

It makes her smile, so I can’t see him stopping that habit anytime soon.

“Xavier was fighting,” Della tells Vincent. “When teenagers want a picture, you risk losing an eye if you don’t get out of their way.”

“I was trying to protect you from the hoodlums, woman,” Xavier grumbles. “And we passed a falafel place. The queue was a thousand people deep, so it has to be good, huh?”

Vincent starts pulling food out of the bag as Xavier crawls right into the bed and over Della, kissing her neck.

She’s giggling when I grab him by the back of the shirt and lift. “For fuck’s sake, stop crushing her.”

“I don’t mind being crushed,” Della says with a soft breathiness.

We’ve been in Paris for a week, yet we’ve barely left the penthouse suite overlooking the Eiffel Tower. We move from bed to the couch to the oversized sunken bath.

And we spoil our beta always . She’s the heart of Pack Madden and always will be.