Page 53 of When She Needs Them Most

“No, that’s okay. I appreciate it,” Chelsea says.

“It was heavy as hell. I had to ask Dean to help me drag it in,” the woman says. “So, it’s probably going to cost a fortune to forward it to you, but I’m willing. Or if you want, I can try to catch the mail guy to have it returned to sender.”

I frown. I’m pretty sure that will only work if it was mailed through the postal service and not a private shipping company.

“Is there a return address?” I ask and grimace.

Fuck.

I’m treating this like an investigation.

“That was a man’s voice,” the lady says. “Should I answer him?”

Chelsea chuckles. “Yes, please.”

“Okay, hang on a second. Let me check.”

We wait patiently as there’s some rustling in the background.

“A lawyer’s office,” she finally says. “Smith, Smith, and Harbor.”

“That’s Clark’s lawyer. The one who told me he was dead. Please, don’t send it back.” Chelsea swallows thickly. “I’ll pay whatever the shipping cost is and extra for the hassle.”

“Oh shit, yeah, no problem…” The woman goes on, and I do my best to figure out how to comfort my omega. Her scent has changed, and now it holds tinges of her anxiety.

I provide our address, because I’d still prefer we check out the package prior to Chelsea opening it. With stalkers or domestic disputes, you can never tell how the offender is going to react. Luckily, the little omega lets me take the lead, soothing my impulses on a foundational level. They disconnect, and I drop Chelsea’s phone onto the nightstand next to mine.

“You feeling okay?” I ask as she slides her hand over the tattoos that line my chest and down to my stomach.

“Can we just not talk about that right now? Because I honestly don’t know.”

That’s something I understand. When I was growing up, everyone always wanted to ask questions about how my dad killed my mom. Did she fight back? Do you hate him? Why did he do it?

I don’t fucking know. Yes. Why don’t you try asking him?

“That’s perfectly fine,” I assure her. “You know, I’m sure you showered, but I can still smell hints of Arden and Kase all over you. Did you have a good afternoon?”

Her warm breath puffs over my pec as she nods, and her naughty little hand trails lower down my abs.

Perhaps it’s not the healthiest coping mechanism, but I’m available if she needs to be distracted. It’s kinda fucked up, because I wouldn’t handle it well if she was hung up on anyone else, but the guy is dead. It’s not like he’s a threat to us building a future together.

Right?

Goddammit.

I hate being introspective. For most of my life, I would have bet good money that I wouldn’t make it to thirty. Now, all I can think about are ways we can make our job safer so that we can have a long and happy life with Chelsea and Luna.

Hell, I’m one of those people who would pick my dog over literally fucking anyone, but I begged Kase to take Sky out because I couldn’t stand being away from Chelsea for a minute longer.

Chelsea wiggles, tossing a thigh over mine. She slides her hand down the front of my sweats, then realizes I’m not wearing anything underneath. Reaching out my hand, I grip her chin and pull her mouth to mine.

The baby belly rests against my side, and I’m really going to miss that thing once she gives birth. That just means we’ll have to knock her up again in a year or two.

Her teeth rake over my lower lip at the same time her fist wraps around my cock. It’s not fully hard, but if she keeps up the naughty, playful bites, it will be in about two seconds flat. She rolls her thumb around my crown, and a low growl vibrates out of my chest.

She pulls back from the kiss and tries to wiggle her way down, like she’s about to suck me off. It’s a process, but I help her up to the best of my ability. Very rarely am I thankful my job requires me to be in good shape. Now is one of those times.

Chelsea kneels next to me, giving my sweats a shove. Lifting my hips, I make sure she can get them to my knees and take over, pushing them down until I can kick out of them.

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