Page 45

"Much," I manage, voice hoarse.

He pulls back to look at me, smile soft and proud. Then, without breaking eye contact, he brings the fingers that were inside me to his mouth and sucks them clean.

The sight makes me whimper with renewed want, and from the doorway, Dean makes a sound like he's dying.

"Delicious," Callum says conversationally, like he didn't just completely ruin me against my living room wall. "Better than pancakes."

Then he steps back, straightening his shirt like nothing happened, and walks back to his abandoned tools. He picks up his hammer and goes back to the trim work like he didn't just give me the most intense orgasm of my life while Dean watched.

I stare at him in disbelief, still slumped against the wall with shaking legs. "That's it? You're just going back to your carpentry?"

"You said you wanted to see what I'd do," he says with a shrug, but there's heat in his eyes that promises this is far from over. "Now you know. And maybe next time you'll think twice before critiquing my technique."

Dean is still standing frozen in the doorway, staring at both of us with wide eyes and an obvious erection straining against his uniform. "What the hell just happened?"

"Callum happened," I say weakly, pushing myself off the wall on unsteady legs. "And apparently he has no problem with delayed gratification."

"The pancakes are burning," Callum observes mildly, nodding toward the kitchen where smoke is indeed beginning to rise.

Dean curses and lunges for the pan, but his movements are jerky and unfocused. I don't blame him. I'm still trying to process what just happened myself.

"You're evil," I tell Callum, but there's no heat in it. If anything, I'm impressed by his self-control and the way he just demonstrated exactly how much he wants me while making it clear he can wait for the right moment.

"I'm practical," he corrects. "We have things to do today. Places to be. If I'd done everything I wanted to do to you just now, we'd be here until tomorrow."

The promise in his words makes my pulse quicken. "Is that a threat or a promise?"

"Both," he says simply, and goes back to his work.

I stand there for another moment, trying to collect myself, then decide two can play this game. If Callum wants to drive me crazy with want and then go back to being casual, I can return the favor.

"Dean," I say sweetly, moving to where he's scraping burnt pancake off the pan. "Do you need help with anything?"

He looks at me like I'm a dangerous animal. "I'm good. All good. Totally fine."

"Are you sure?" I lean against him, pressing my body against his side. "You seem a little... worked up."

"Lila," he says through gritted teeth, "you're playing with fire."

"So Callum mentioned," I say innocently, then rise on my toes to whisper in his ear. "Maybe I like getting burned."

The sound he makes is strangled, and when I pull back, his face is flushed. But instead of doing anything about it, he points toward the stairs with a shaky hand.

"Go get dressed," he says firmly. "Before I do something that makes Julian come home to find us all naked on the kitchen floor."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" I ask, but I'm already backing toward the doorway.

"Go," Dean says, but his voice is fond despite the strain. "Before Callum decides to demonstrate what else he's been thinking about."

I glance at Callum, who's watching this entire exchange with dark amusement, and decide that discretion is probably for the better. For now.

"Fine," I say with exaggerated disappointment. "But we're definitely continuing this conversation later."

"Counting on it," Callum says, and the promise in his voice follows me up the stairs.

As I head to my room to get dressed—and probably take a very cold shower—I can't stop smiling. The sexual tension that's been building between all of us has finally found an outlet, and now I know exactly what I'm dealing with.

But as I catch sight of myself in the mirror. Flushed and disheveled and thoroughly satisfied, reality creeps back in. The LA trip is only two weeks away. Two weeks until I have to put on a designer dress and walk red carpets with my three mountain men beside me in tuxedos.

Two weeks until I face my past with the people I've chosen as my future.

The thought should make me nervous, but all I can think about is how proud I'll be to introduce them as my pack. How little I care about Dustin and his new omega or industry politics or any of the bullshit that used to matter.

I'm coming home to Honeyridge Falls after that ceremony. Home to this house, to these men, to the life we're building together one ordinary, extraordinary day at a time.

But first, we have two weeks to figure out exactly what we are to each other. Two weeks to push past careful boundaries and polite distance. And fourteen days to show each other exactly how much we want this.

The thought follows me into the shower, and as cold water hits my overheated skin, I can't help but grin.

This is going to be interesting.