Page 23 of Take All of Me

He’s gentle, hips rolling in a rhythm that builds, heat coiling low in my belly. “Brogan,” I breathe, and he groans softly, lips finding my jaw, my cheek, everywhere but my neck, honoring my limits.

I’m not sure how long we’re pressed against the wall, Brogan loving me with every touch, before he comes inside me, a quiet shudder running through him. It’s like something clicks, a door opening in my chest, and I’m not so scared anymore—not of him, not of Dakota, Roman, Holt. Mates is still too big, too heavy a word, but I want this, want them, in a way I haven’t let myself before.

And then the full strength of his scent hits, fresh rain, a torrential storm, soft and strong all at once, consuming me completely. I bury my nose in his neck, inhaling deep as it tips me over the edge. I come, hard and loud, my moan swallowed bythe water and his skin, pleasure crashing through me in waves that leave me trembling.

Brogan holds me through it, easing me down onto shaky legs as the aftershocks fade. He kisses my cheeks, then my lips, a gentle press that feels like a vow. “You’re gonna be addicting, love,” he murmurs, voice rough with affection. “If I had any doubt you were mine before, I don’t now.” He kisses me again, guiding me under the water, relief swirling through my chest as I allow myself to truly lean into what he’s offering.

Roman

My eyes adjust slowly to the darkness in Dakota’s room, Holt sprawled on the other bed, one arm flung over his face, snoring softly. Brogan and Maya are gone, their absence hitting me all of a sudden. I grab my phone from the nightstand, the screen’s glare making me squint, and a loud groan rumbles from Dakota behind me. Before I can move, his arm snakes around my waist, yanking me back against his chest. “Stay,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleep.

I huff, flipping around so my back’s pressed to his chest, his heartbeat steady against my spine. “Easy, grump,” I mutter, smirking even though he can’t see it. I check the time—barely 9 p.m.—and spot a text from Brogan.

>>> In the gym with Maya.

My stomach growls, loud enough to make Dakota shift, and I grin, scrolling through delivery options. I’m hungry as shit and since Holt’s passed out, that means I’m on food duty. I find a sandwich shop still open, punching in orders—Italian for me and Holt, meatball for Dakota, grilled cheese for Maya and Brogan. I have no idea what he eats but something tells me that he’ll eat anything she does.

I pay, yawning, and almost drift back asleep when my phone buzzes again, a picture popping up of my brother Gray. I frown, then chuckle, recognizing the sender—Violet, Gray’s Beta, not Gray himself. It’s my nephews, cheesing in front of her, their gap-toothed grins bright under messy curls. Gray’s behind them, his arm around Violet, looking tired but happy.

I remember meeting them four years ago—Gray’s Beta and his Omega both pregnant, a whirlwind of pack life I didn’t understand then. Those kids are adorable menaces now, ones I don’t see nearly enough, mostly because their pack’s always on the move, chasing art shows or whatever else keeps them roaming.

The pang deepens, a mix of sadness and want, because I don’t have that yet—no pack, no kids, no anchor like Gray’s got. I text back.

>>> Good thing they don’t look like you.

Gray fires back almost instantly.

>>> Har har. How’s hockey going? This your last year, right?

I shift against Dakota, his arm tightening like he senses my mood.

>>> Got one more year, then yeah.

>>> You looking to the pros or what? How does all that work?

I hesitate, staring at the screen. “Not really, to be honest,” I mutter to myself, then type it out.

>>> Maybe coaching or something.

>>> Roman, we’re not super close, but I’ve seen you play. For you to give it all up…

>>> Not giving it up. Just priorities have changed.

I can almost hear his raised eyebrow through the next text:

>>> It’s a girl, isn’t it? Or a boy? Both? Did my little brother find a pack?

My chest tightens as I glance back at Dakota, his breath warm against my neck, then think of Maya, the way she’s burrowed into us all without trying. Brogan’s with her now, probably coaxing that spark back. I want to tell Gray everything—about her, about us—but it feels like spilling that over text isn’t the right timing. I settle for:

>>> Something like that. I’ll call later, we’ll catch up.

>>> Make sure you do. Wanna know who’s got my brother’s heart.

I set the phone down and expertly untangle myself from Dakota’s grip, my Omega grumbling in his sleep. My body’s stiff, muscles aching from whatever position I fell asleep in, and I frown, stretching as I shuffle to the bathroom. I’m still half-asleep as I use the bathroom, wash my hands, the cold water jolting me awake, and I’m about to head back when something stops me. I blink, rewinding—wait, did I just see that?

I glance down, pulling out my cock from my boxers, and stare at the base. It’s thicker than it should be, almost swollen. The tip’s fine, but when I brush my fingers over the base, I hiss, the sensitivity sharp enough to make my knees buckle. “Fucking hell,” I mutter, laughing despite myself, because of course there’d be something wrong with my goddamn cock right when Dakota’s become an Omega, all needy and purring, and Maya’s back, her vanilla scent driving me up the wall. “Just my luck,” I say to the empty bathroom, sputtering another laugh, but it’s edged with worry.

Blowing out a deep breath, I stuff myself back into my boxers, wincing as the fabric rubs against it. Holt’s sitting up when I step back into the room. “Where’s Maya? She wasn’t here when I got in but I assumed she’d be with Brogan.”

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