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BOONE

I want her more than I’ve wanted anything in my entire life. I’d give up practically everything just to feel one touch of her silky skin against mine. Give up everything to feel her fingers ghost along my back as I’m lying between her deliciously thick thighs.

“I hate you,” I say jokingly toward Tripp.

Tripp glances over at me, his brows knitting for just a heartbeat in bewilderment, as if he’s puzzling through a riddle that doesn’t quite add up.

His gaze lingers, searching my face for some hidden meaning, and I watch the exact moment realization flickers behind his eyes.

His lips curl upward into a slow, knowing smirk—equal parts playful and self-assured—like he’s finally cracked the code and is quietly pleased with himself for doing so.

“Why would that be, Boone?” he asks, knowing exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not hard to take a guess. I’m as hard as a rock, nearly splitting the front of my pants just from being within feet of her.

Tripp has gotten to feel her. Knot her. He’s been able to give her pleasure and watch as euphoria transforms her features. He gets to know the taste of her laughter, the shiver in her breath, every little secret that blooms under his hands.

Tripp’s had the chance to be part of her world in ways I haven’t—has watched her eyes go bright with want, seen her lips part, helpless and soft, as pleasure overtakes her.

That’s what gnaws at me, a slow, stubborn ache.

I want to be the one who makes her back arch, who learns the map of her body one trembling sigh at a time.

Instead, I’m stuck on the outside, sulking like a jealous kid, forced to imagine what it’s like to unravel her, to hear my name tumble from her lips when she finally lets go. To see her so lost in sensations that she forgets her own name and only remembers mine.

“You know exactly why that is, Tripp.” I narrow my eyes playfully. “Now, I’m stuck here with the hard on of all hard ons and no way to relieve myself.”

“You have your hand,” he says, chuckling.

I cock a brow. “I have your mouth.”

All laughter ceases. His eyes flare with desire as he peers down at me from his towering height. His muscles seem to flex, hands fisting by his sides, as if he’s holding himself back from tossing me over his shoulder and running off to the nearest bedroom.

The air between us grows charged, thickening with a heady, electric tension that neither of us bothers to name. It’s as if every glance, every half-smile, every whispered tease has spun invisible threads—delicate and shimmering yet pulling tighter with each breath.

I’m aware of Tripp, keenly, as if he’s become the axis around which my world tilts, and the heat coiling between us is impossible to ignore.

It swirls in the silence, a palpable chemistry that tingles over my skin and hums beneath my ribcage, irrepressible and wild, making the room feel suddenly smaller, closer, as if we’re the only two people who matter.

The moment throbs with anticipation, our unspoken desires crackling in the space between us—an invitation, a challenge, an inevitable pull.

“The only thing that would make this even better is if Remi were in a place where she’d want our touch,” Tripp says, stepping up to me. I crane my head back to look at him, seeing his eyes shift to my lips and then back again.

That's when I hear a quiet, feminine gasp escape through Remi’s open door.

Our twin smiles widen as we fight to keep from peeking over at the door.

The need to be with Remi presses down on me with the force of a tidal wave, relentless and all-consuming.

It’s not just desire—it’s a hunger that coils through every nerve, a longing that sits heavy in my chest until it hurts to breathe.

Every glance, every brush of air that carries her scent, sharpens the ache, blurring the edge between want and need until the distinction disappears entirely.

The world narrows to the possibility of her touch, to the hope that, just maybe, she’ll step into the open and let down whatever barriers remain.

I ache with it, with the rawness of wanting her not just in body but in spirit, to surrender to the gravity that pulls me endlessly toward her. The craving stirs restless beneath my skin; it’s wildfire and thunder, a living thing that refuses to be quieted.

If she were to look at me in the eye, she’d see the truth of it blazing—how waiting for her is both exquisite torment and the sweetest hope I possess.

Every heartbeat drums with her name, every moment stretches taut with the need to be close, to feel her warmth radiate against me, to lose myself in the wonder of her acceptance.

It’s overwhelming—devouring—and yet I wouldn’t trade it for anything, not even relief.

Yet, I know Remi isn’t where she needs to be to want that type of connection.

The last time she was there, Knox played that cruel joke on her, causing her to perfume everywhere in a fit of anger.

Ever since then, we have been paying the price of his deception.

It stings, knowing that our First Alpha would do something like that, especially to someone as sweet and kind as Remi.

Tripp and I exchange a silent glance, a flicker of shared mischief and anticipation sparking between us.

With barely a word, we both lean in. The golden light spills through the crack, illuminating the anxious hope etched on both our faces as we angle closer together, heads nearly brushing in our eagerness.

For a breathless moment, we hover there, chest to chest, the thrum of possibility thick in the air.

The warmth from Tripp’s chest radiates where he stands close, grounding me even as my pulse skips wildly in my chest.

Then, as if compelled by an unspoken urge, we inch closer to one another, drawn together by the gravity of what we both want, and by the presence we both ache for on the other side of the door.

Our movements are quiet and deliberate, each one closing the space between us until we're touching, connected in both longing and silent understanding.

The world narrows to this: the hush of the hallway, the soft glow spilling from the room, and the subtle, electric proximity between our bodies as we wait, together, for the moment to unfold.

As he leans his face toward mine, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. I can’t help the smirk that lifts the corner of my lips as I spy Remi’s face pressing even closer. She may not want to be with us right now, but that doesn't stop her from enjoying the show.

Tripp’s lips ghost over mine. The instant our lips brush, a jolt of excitement surges through me—bright and electric, like striking flint and catching a spark in the dark.

It’s as if the world narrows to this singular moment, every sense sharpening, colors deepening, the air vibrating with a secret thrill that makes my pulse race and my breath catch.

The touch is impossibly tender, featherlight yet charged, and something inside me unfurls in response, wild and breathless.

My skin tingles under an invisible current, and I can feel the rush of anticipation trembling in my veins, a sweet ache that flares through my chest and out to my fingertips.

I’m alive with it, caught between the dizzying wonder of what’s happening and the hunger for more, every nerve ending awake, reaching for the warmth of his mouth on mine.

A tiny squeak draws our attention once more, and we both smile at one another before we step back from one another and toward Remi’s door.

Each of us leans our shoulder against the doorframe on either side of the door.

Crossing our arms, I toe open the door to see Remi on the other side with her cheeks bright red from embarrassment.

“Did you get a nice show?” I ask, feeling my cock kick in my jeans from the way she bites her lip.

“I didn’t know you all were … together,” she says, turning redder if that were possible. But while she’s turning redder, she’s not running for the hills screaming.

“We’re not,” I reply. “But that doesn’t mean we don’t slack each other’s … needs from time to time.”

“Oh,” is all she says, eyes flicking between us. “Well, I, uh, guess that’s okay.”

For a heartbeat, her words hang in the air, and I feel my own pulse stumble—then surge.

It’s as if her hesitant acceptance winds a coil inside my chest, tightening with each syllable before it lets go all at once.

My heart pounds, hard and bright, each thud echoing in my ears, thrumming in my veins.

The rush of possibility—sweet, sharp, and almost dizzying—courses through me, leaving me breathless and newly aware of every sensation: the warmth of Tripp beside me, the flush painting Remi’s cheeks, the heady promise fluttering in the space between us.

Her acceptance of this feels like everything.

There are not many people who would accept two alphas messing around when the need becomes too much.

Instead, they look at people differently in general for simply wanting what they want.

It’s disgusting behavior. Truly. No person should have to change who they are because of some societal norm.

They should be able to be themselves, no matter what or who that is.

“Are you saying that to be nice, or saying that because you actually mean it?” I ask, wanting to be absolutely clear where she is with all this.

Her eyes flick between us again. “I’m not saying it to be nice. If I’m not okay with something, I'll let you know. But I don’t think people should change who they are simply because people may not like it. People should be who they are, no matter the outcome. Honesty is best.”

My smile kicks up on my face. Tripp’s expression mirrors mine. “Okay, precious,” I say, winking at her.

She ducks her head, eyes leaving mine, as if she’s too innocent for a conversation such as this one.