Page 14 of Pack Plus One (Sweetwater City Reverse Harem Omegaverse #1)

LIAM

T he scent of Leah’s pleasure still lingers in the air as she collapses against the bed, her breathing ragged, her body limp with exhaustion.

Perfect .

I watch as Caleb strokes her hair, his usual intensity softened into something dangerously close to tenderness.

Jude, ever the opportunist, sprawls across the foot of the bed, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk—his tongue still glistening from where he’d worked between her thighs.

Mason lingers near the headboard, his fingers flexing absently as if remembering the way she’d clenched around them earlier.

And me?

I can still taste her on my tongue.

Four times.

Once for each of us.

Now she’s wrecked. Beautifully ruined. And I’m already calculating how to keep her here.

Not just for tonight. Not just for tomorrow.

For good .

Leah’s eyelids droop, her body sinking deeper into the mattress. “M’tired,” she mumbles, her voice slurred with satisfaction.

Jude grins, propping his chin on her knee. “That’s what happens when you come that hard, doll. Four times has to be some kind of record.”

She flushes gloriously, the color spreading from her cheeks down her neck to her chest as she buries her face in Caleb’s shoulder with a groan. “Oh my God.”

“What?” Jude’s grin widens. “We’re very proud of our accomplishments.”

“I hate you,” she mutters into Caleb’s skin, but there’s no real anger in it.

Caleb’s arms tighten around her, his lips brushing her temple. “Sleep,” he murmurs, his voice taking on that gentle note that I usually use.

But Leah shakes her head, forcing her eyes open. “I should…I should go…”

Not a chance.

Mason catches my eye, his expression unreadable to anyone who doesn’t know him as well as we do. But I recognize that subtle tightening around his eyes. He’s thinking the same thing.

“It’s late,” I say smoothly, reaching for the blanket tangled at the foot of the bed. “Stay.”

Leah hesitates, her gaze darting between us—Caleb’s possessive grip, Jude’s playful smirk, Mason’s quiet intensity, my outstretched hand with the blanket.

Jude pokes her thigh. “Also, you’re naked. And we just got you all comfortable and...satisfied.”

“I have clothes,” she mutters, but there’s no real conviction in it. She makes no move to actually get up.

Caleb growls softly, nuzzling the spot where he’d almost marked her earlier at the wedding. The sight had turned me on more than I’d like to admit. “Stay.”

No alpha command, but Leah shivers, her resistance crumbling visibly under the weight of his request. Our request. “...Fine. But just until morning.”

We’ll see about that .

I catch Mason smiling slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in that subtle way that speaks volumes. He knows as well as I do that “just until morning” is already more than we had any right to hope for.

“I should at least clean up,” she says, making a half-hearted attempt to sit up.

“I’ve got it,” I offer, heading to the en-suite bathroom. My fingers tighten around the warm washcloth as I return, torn between handing it to her and doing it myself.

Her fingers tremble slightly when she reaches for it—that small, vulnerable motion deciding for me. I let her take it, though every instinct screams to care of her myself.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, her eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away.

I watch, jaw clenched, as she cleans herself. The sight is more intimate than the sex—her fingers hesitating, the flush creeping up her chest, the way she keeps her thighs pressed together like she’s still getting used to the feel of us.

Next time , I promise silently, I won’t hand you the cloth. I’ll kneel between your thighs and clean you with my own hands, slow and thorough, until you’re sighing instead of trembling.

For now, I give her this small control. But the possessive ache in my chest doesn’t ease. Not when Jude steals the damp cloth to press a kiss to her palm. Not when Caleb growls at him to stop crowding her. Not even when Mason wordlessly offers her his shirt to wear.

She’s ours now. Even if she doesn’t know it yet.

Jude, predictably, breaks the moment.

“So,” he drawls, stretching like a cat and deliberately flexing his abs. “Since we’re all very awake?—”

“We’re not,” Caleb mumbles, pressing closer to Leah.

“—let’s play a game.”

Mason exhales through his nose, but there’s a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “What kind of game do you suggest at—” he checks his phone, “—one in the morning after we’ve all just had the best sex of our lives?”

At his words, a fresh wave of heat reddens Leah’s face.

“Never Have I Ever,” Jude declares, his grin turning wicked.

Caleb lifts his head just enough to glare. “That’s a terrible idea.”

Leah releases the cutest little giggle. “I agree.”

“The best ideas always are.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Come on, omega. Live a little. We need to get to know each other better since we’ve, you know, done things backwards.”

Caleb’s grip tightens around Leah’s waist, but before he can protest, she sighs. “Fine. But if this ends with anyone doing anything ridiculous?—”

“Too late,” Jude says cheerfully, gesturing to our half-naked bodies scattered across the bed.

She chucks a pillow at him with surprising accuracy for someone who claimed to be exhausted. He catches it, laughing.

“I’ll get drinks,” I offer, heading to the mini-fridge Caleb keeps in the corner of his massive room. I pull out water bottles for everyone, tossing them across the bed. “Let’s hydrate while we play.”

Leah accepts her bottle gratefully, gulping down half of it in one go. Her throat works as she swallows, and I catch all three of my packmates watching the movement with undisguised hunger.

“Okay,” Jude claps his hands together, settling cross-legged at the foot of the bed. “Rules are simple. If you’ve done it, you drink. Let’s start tame and work our way up.”

“Define ‘tame,’” Mason says dryly.

Jude grins, rolling onto his stomach to face Leah. “Never have I ever... hired an omega to pretend to be my date.”

All four of us drink without hesitation, and something complicated flashes across Leah’s face—guilt mixed with what looks like resolve. She opens her mouth as if to say something, her shoulders tensing.

I recognize that look. She’s about to confess.

Before she can speak, Mason cuts in smoothly. “Never have I ever been to a wedding where the groom sent over champagne just to be petty.”

The tension breaks as Leah laughs, though there’s relief in her eyes at the subject change. “That was so embarrassing! I can’t believe he did that.”

“Classic alpha insecurity,” Jude says, stretching languidly. “He couldn’t handle that you’ve moved on to better things.”

She blushes, fidgeting with her water bottle. “It wasn’t... I mean, we’re not really?—”

“Never have I ever,” Caleb interrupts, his voice rumbling against her back where he’s moved so she’s nestled against his chest, “fallen asleep during sex.”

No one drinks. Then Mason, in that deadpan way of his, takes a long sip.

Leah’s eyes go wide. “Wait, what?”

A chuckle brushes through Mason’s nose. “Not my proudest moment. But in my defense, it was after a 36-hour brewfest and she insisted on giving this... very slow massage first.” He shudders. “Like watching paint dry, but with more scented oils.”

Leah dissolves into giggles, the sound light and musical in the otherwise quiet room. It’s so unexpected and charming that all of us stop to stare at her.

Jude’s lips quirk as he adds, “Wish I could have seen her face when she realized you were snoring.”

Mason shakes his head, eyes rolling.

Jude points at him. “Marketing, my friend. Always market your failures as intentional features. ‘I wasn’t sleeping - I was testing out your new orthopedic mattress.’”

Leah snorts and giggles again. The sound makes something warm bloom in my chest.

“Well?” she asks, looking around at all of us. “Did none of you think to warn me about this before I agreed to come back here?”

I raise an eyebrow. “That Mason occasionally falls asleep during intimate moments? Not exactly first-date conversation.”

“Though now I’m a little worried,” she says, throwing a teasing glance at Mason. “Should I be checking for signs of consciousness during?—”

“Trust me,” Mason interrupts, his voice dropping to that low rumble that makes even me pay attention. “That won’t be a problem with you.”

The blush that spreads across her cheeks is absolutely delicious.

“My turn,” Caleb rumbles. “Never have I ever been kicked out of a baking competition.”

Leah gasps, wide eyes turning his way. Caleb smirks. “How did you—” She narrows her eyes. “You Googled me.”

Jude shrugs, unrepentant. “Had to know who we were getting into bed with. Literally.”

She takes a long sip of water, then sighs. “Fine. The judges deemed my chili chocolate cake ‘unnecessarily provocative.’”

I burst out laughing. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Right?” She grins. My heart melts. “The head judge was this stuffy old alpha who believed desserts should be ‘gentle on the palate.’ The coward couldn’t handle a little heat.”

The room goes silent. I know what we’re all thinking.

“We could handle your heat,” Jude says with a wink.

I toss a pillow at his head. “Behave.”

Leah laughs, but there’s a blush creeping up her neck that suggests Jude’s flirting is having an effect. “It was just cake,” she insists, though her smile says otherwise. “Though I did win three regional competitions with variations of that recipe before getting disqualified.”

“Impressive,” Mason says, and there’s genuine admiration in his tone.

“My turn,” Leah says quickly, clearly trying to change the subject. “Never have I ever... had someone recognize me from my business before I was ready to tell them who I was.”

None of us drinks, though Mason’s eyebrow rises slightly.

“That sounds specific,” Jude prompts, nudging her knee. “Story time?”

Leah bites her lip, suddenly looking almost shy.

“I, um... I recognized your name. At the wedding.” Her confession comes out in a rush.

“I didn’t want to make it weird, but I’ve been a fan of Le Roux for ages.

I had your special release Belgian-style ale just a few weeks ago and my friend, Zoe, practically drank the entire bottle of your artisan wine. ”

I feel my chest expand with unexpected pride. The Belgian was my recipe. A labor of love that took nearly a year to perfect.

“No way,” Jude says, sitting up straighter. “You’ve had our stuff before?”

She nods, her cheeks coloring slightly. “Your stuff is incredible.”

Mason’s eyes have softened in a way I rarely see. Our reserved financial mastermind doesn’t often show how much the brewery’s success means to him.

“We worked on that Belgian for a long time,” I admit, unable to keep the pleased note from my voice. “Multiple test batches, countless adjustments.”

“It shows,” Leah says with a soft, genuine smile. “There’s this moment when you first taste it, where the malt and the spice notes just... blend perfectly. It’s like...” She gestures vaguely with her hands.

“Like everything clicks into place,” Caleb offers quietly from behind her.

Good thing she doesn’t turn around, because the look he’s giving her is downright possessive.

“Exactly.” She grins.

Another warm feeling unfolds in my chest watching her talk about our beer with such appreciation. She understands what we’ve poured into our work.

“Our stout was Caleb’s baby,” Mason reveals. “He nearly drove us insane perfecting the chocolate notes.”

“Oh! I think I’ve had that one, too!” Leah beams. “Sooo good!”

Caleb shrugs, but I can tell by the way his scent shifts that he’s pleased by her recognition.

“That stout got me through last winter when my heating broke down. Better than a blanket.”

“High praise,” I comment, watching as Caleb’s arm tightens just slightly around her waist.

“I’m surprised we haven’t seen you at the taproom,” Mason says.

The thought of Leah sitting in our taproom, enjoying our creations, possibly watching us from across the room without our knowledge, fills me with an unexpected mix of emotions.

“When you decide to visit,” Jude adds in, “you’re getting the VIP treatment.” He grins. “Behind-the-scenes tour, samples of the experimental batches, the works.”

“I’d like that,” she says softly, and the simple sincerity in her voice makes something in my chest tighten pleasantly.

“You,” Jude declares, looking at her with genuine admiration, “are my new favorite person.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Leah says, trying and failing to stifle a yawn.

I notice the time on the bedside clock—nearly 2 AM now—and the way her eyelids flutter with exhaustion. “Game’s over.” I catch Jude’s wrist as he opens his mouth to protest. “She needs sleep.”

Caleb shifts behind her, his arms tightening briefly before he helps her settle against the pillows. “We’ll give you the room,” he rumbles, though his jaw tenses at the words.

Leah’s already half-asleep, her fingers curling into the sheets as she mumbles, “Just until morning...”

“Of course,” I lie smoothly, flicking off the bedside lamp.

We move as one unit—Jude retrieving her water bottle, Mason straightening the blanket, and I propping an extra pillow within reach. Our silent coordination would be eerie if it weren’t so practiced.

At the doorway, we pause. Jude mouths ‘holy shit’ with wide eyes. Mason nods once. She fits . Caleb’s nostrils flare as he breathes in her scent still lingering on his skin. Mine . And me?

I press a hand against the doorframe, struck by how right she looks in Mason’s oversized shirt, curled in our sheets. How easily she could belong here. The realization hits like a punch to the chest—I don’t just want her in our bed.

I want her at our breakfast table. In our brewery. Wrapped in my arms at night and smiling at me over coffee in the morning.

Ours .

And not just for tonight.

Caleb surprises us all by grabbing a spare blanket from the hall closet. Without a word, he spreads it across the floor outside her door and drops a pillow at the head of his makeshift bed.

Jude snorts. “Subtle.”

“Someone should—” Caleb begins.

“Stand guard in case she bolts at dawn?” Mason finishes dryly. “Yes, we gathered.”

I squeeze Caleb’s shoulder as we head toward our own rooms. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Not when she wakes up to fresh cinnamon rolls and proper coffee. Not when Jude’s ridiculous pancake art awaits. And certainly not when Caleb’s looming presence at her door makes his intentions clearer than any words could.

Leah’s soft snores follow us down the hall.

Good.

She’ll need her rest.

Because tomorrow?

The real game begins.