Page 117 of Pin My Alpha
I take another bite of the bun, slow and deliberate, and hold his gaze while I chew.
His scent finds me through the warm night, a faint thread under the charcoal smoke and barbecue sauce. Cedar. Woodsmoke. Clean cotton. Home. It’s embarrassing, because I used to hate how much I wanted it.
Now I mostly just hate that he knows exactly what it does to me.
Declan says something to Callum, hands him the tongs, then wipes his palms on the towel tucked through his belt.
The green bar towel.
The original one is upstairs in our nest, folded between a blanket and one of Declan’s shirts because apparently I’m a giant cliché with excellent organizational skills. This one’s newer. Less sacred.
Still smells like him.
He starts toward me.
“Uh-oh,” Jude says, clocking it immediately. “Look at him.”
“Don’t,” I mutter.
“Why? He’s hot.”
“Because he’s my alpha.”
Jude tilts his head. “Exactly?”
Rhys covers Jude’s hand with his own. “Leave them alone.”
“I am leaving them alone. From right here. Loudly.”
Declan stops beside my chair, big enough that he blocks some of the patio lights. His hand settles on the back of my neck, thumb brushing the edge of my mark.
My whole body just… gives.
I look up at him. “Abandoning the grill?”
“Callum’s got it.”
“Does Callum know that?”
“Probably.”
From across the patio, Callum glances over his shoulder. “I heard that.”
“Then you’re good,” Declan calls back.
Callum laughs. “Go.”
Milo’s eyes go wide in that gentle, delighted way he gets when something romantic happens. Benji makes a gagging noise. Jude claps once.
“Oh, this is happening.”
“It’s not,” I say.
Declan’s thumb drags once more over my neck. “You coming inside with me?”
My brain cycles through a dozen answers. The sensible one: No, our friends are here. The professional one: We have guests. The adult one: Absolutely not, we’re business owners with standards.
Instead I put my plate down on the table.
