Page 34 of Take All of Me

He plops onto the bed, a spread of papers shifting across the mattress, his expression a mix of excitement and unease. “I texted my brother, ‘cause he’s got connections and shit. Apparently, Nox Carter made a pretty big deal in the art world a few years back—five or so? Got caught up in a scandal, lots of money down the drain type stuff.”

I blink, my brain tripping over itself, because—what? “First off, I thought he was more of a businessman. Second, how the fuck is that not public knowledge?”

Roman shrugs again. “Art world’s kinda hush-hush unless the police get involved, or so my brother says. I don’t fucking know.” He grabs a stack of papers, his excitement bubbling over, and shoves them toward me. “His name comes up a few times in some trades and stuff. This shit’s worth hundreds of thousands of dollars.”

I take the papers, scanning them—names, numbers, gallery listings—but it’s gibberish to me, and I shake my head, frustration creeping in. “You’re losing me, Roman.”

He leans closer, pointing at a highlighted line. “There was this big scandal and, uh, they’re all fakes. I guess he got into the business to make some quick cash but the deals were bad and now he’s trying to recoup money for investors. I don’t know the details, but that’s what it sounds like.”

His scent is making it really hard to concentrate and my cock—the traitor that it is—isnothelping. “Roman, how the fuck could you find all this bullshit out? Is any of this legal?” My mind’s spinning through a hundred different scenarios that are only possible in the movies but I have nothing else to go on. All of this research must have taken hours and no doubt why Dakota fucked off to go find Holt and Maya after most likely being ignored.

“I just searched up what my brother told me. The galleries list who buys the art as a way to track it. It’s all public domain but you have to know what you’re looking for. I didn’t so I checked a few of the galleries around here. Found his name a few times. Looked up those pieces and found out they were fake!” He throws his hands up, a boyish grin taking over his face and damn the fucker is beautiful.

“If you pushed even an ounce of this effort into your studies, you might actually graduate with honors.”

“Meh, that’s boring. Look, I’m assuming his trust fund’s locked until he gets married or something like that. I didn’t get that far, but now we know why he needs the money and why it’s urgent. I’ve watched enough TV to know some of the investors breathing down his neck are probably threatening him.”

That all makes sense even if all of this seems a little far-fetched. However, knowing that Roman’s brother is deep into the art business, I’m inclined to believe everything Roman pulled up. Unfortunately, this means that keeping Nox off campus is only half the battle. “How the fuck do we protect her from that?”

“We don’t. The police do that. My brother’s pack will help—they’ve been trying to recoup all the fakes anyway, not my brother, but the police. So a little tip-off will send ‘em in the right direction.”

“So, we just gotta make sure Nox stays the fuck off campus till this blows over and somehow convince Maya not to leave without one of us by her side.”

“Won’t be a problem. Next week’s Dakota’s heat. We won’t even be here.” His grin’s infectious, easing the knot in my chest, except for the fact that I kind of forgot about next week.

“Right, that slipped my mind.”

“I get it. You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

I snort, wondering why he thinks I’m not going to come, why he thinks I wouldn’t want to. “I want to make sure Maya’s okay. And you all’ll need someone right in the head to make sure you fuckers actually eat.”

“Brogan, we didn’t ask you to come to be a pack Beta or some shit.”

“If I didn’t want to come, I wouldn’t,” I say, meeting his eyes, because I mean it. “Staying on campus isn’t really a win, so evenif I’m on the other side of the cabin, at least it’s a vacation. Please tell me someone knows how to cook so we can at least have Thanksgiving?”

“Yeah, we’ll do all that shit too,” he muses. But then I catch the way his eyes linger, dipping to my lips again, a spark of want that makes my pulse jump.

I take a step closer because we need to name this, at least a little. “Look, I know what you want, or think you want? I don’t know, and I’m not saying no, but we gotta go real slow, like at a snail’s pace. I didn’t even plan for Maya to come back, and the idea of a pack, bonds, and…”

Roman cuts me off, his hands raised, relief flooding his features. “No one’s talking about all that, Brogan. Everything I know is changing. I’m hot and uncomfortable and have been pissed off most of the time the last two days. I also have a knot that keeps swelling at the most inconvenient times, trying to knot the air or some shit.” He pushes out a strained laugh. “Before you came in, I fucking came in my pants just thinking about knotting Dakota. It’s like a second puberty and it’s bullshit. Do I like you? Yes. But I have no idea where this goes or how far it does. All I know is I really fucking liked your lips.”

I stare at him, a laugh bubbling up, because only Roman would word-vomit like that, raw honesty just coming out in a garble. “I always forget you word-vomit when you’re nervous.”

“That’s the only thing you got from that?”

“For the record, I liked your lips too. Let’s get through Dakota’s heat, and then maybe we can figure out whatever this is. Right now, I think you mentioned we’re on dinner duty, and I really wanna catch that sex glow on Maya’s face.”

Roman’s grin turns wicked. “Fuck, I’m jealous. I can’t wait for when she’s in my arms.”

“Oh, she makes the sweetest sounds.”

Maya

I’m stretched across Dakota’s lap, a takeout container of sesame chicken balanced in my hands as I stuff my face, the sweet-savory sauce a perfect distraction from the haze still lingering from earlier. Roman’s beside us, cross-legged on my bed, my feet resting in his lap, his hands massaging them with slow, firm presses that pull soft sighs from me. At first, I was uneasy—scrambling to pull on sweatpants and a hoodie when Brogan and Roman burst in with bags of Chinese food and an armful of Dakota’s pillows, looking ridiculous, like they’d raided a linen closet.

I’d laughed, imagining them trekking across the quad, pillows stacked high, drawing stares, and it hit me—I felt on display, but not in a bad way. This is different because they care, and I’m starting to believe I can have this happiness if I let myself.

My scar’s visible, peeking above my shirt but it doesn’t feel horrid to show it like I thought it would. Holt’s across from us, leaning against my desk, his brown eyes glinting with a mix of satisfaction and lust, like he’s drinking in every second of this. And then there’s Brogan’s beside him, a slow burn spreading beneath my skin under his stare. I must be reacting to them in some part because Dakota’s cock starts to thicken against my ass, even if they’re all focused on plays for the game and not my rapidly growing embarrassment that I’m craving more than just their stares.

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