Page 22 of It's Kind of a Bunny Story
Linc must have shifted while I was distracted because his and Fletcher’s howls of laughter were very human.
“Yes, ma’am.” Copeland bit the inside of his cheeks, already knowing better than to let me see a smirk.
“Now, put me down,” I ordered.
Copeland obediently set me on my feet and stared down at me, his face turning red as he held in his laughter.
I narrowed my eyes in warning. “If you so much as giggle…”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied innocently.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I was suddenly reminded I was still rocking my birthday suit. It didn’t matter that they’d seen every inch of my skin; I couldn’t stop my full-body flush. Being naked during sex was one thing. Prancing around naked with three men watching was something that would take some getting used to.
I spun around, snatching the blanket from the ground, intending to wrap it around me. Linc caught my wrist.
“Sugar, you have no reason to feel shy. You’re a work of art.” He brushed his lips against the inside of my wrist. “But if you would feel more comfortable clothed, then let’s go inside and get you a clean shirt.” Linc moved his palm against my lower back, guiding me up the porch steps and into the house.
“I think we’d all enjoy some food and a long shower,” Copeland agreed. “Come on, Fletch.”
We let the wolves lead us into the kitchen. While the outside of the house looked as though it had belonged in a long-forgotten fairytale, the interior was more in line with our current century. The guys had updated the furniture, light fixtures and appliances, but had managed to keep some of the homey rustic feel.
Stepping to a cabinet that stood just inside the home’s entrance, Copeland pulled out three pairs of folded gym shorts. He tossed a pair to Fletcher and then Linc before slipping a pair on himself.
My stomach flipped as he pulled two more folded garments from the shelf. Even though Linc had assured me no female had stayed in their home, part of my soul shriveled up and died just thinking that he was about to offer me clothes that were from an ex.
He stared down at the shorts and T-shirt in his hand. “No matter how tight you draw the string, I don’t think our shorts are going to fit you very well.”
Grinning in relief, I caught his face between my palms, pulling him down so I could kiss his cheek. “The shirt will be fine.”
I slipped it on, unsurprised when it fell past my knees. Spinning in a circle as though I were the belle of the ball, I giggled, “It’s practically a dress on me.”
“And it looks beautiful.” Copeland brushed his thumb along my cheekbone. “Once your heat is over, I swear we’ll take you to get whatever you need.”
“Unless you prefer to make a list. The women from the pack would be happy to bring you whatever you need now,” Linc offered.
“No!” It came out a bit too sharp, and I forced a smile to my lips to make up for it. “I don’t really need anything right now. All we’ve been doing is eating and sleeping.”
“Just know the offer is there should you change your mind.” Linc moved past me, toward the largest fireplace I’d ever seen.
It stood in the middle of the floor, serving as a dividing wall between the kitchen and the main room. My eyes slid around the room, suddenly suspicious.
“Did you buy this house from a witch who enjoyed combining her love of DIY projects and gingerbread baking? The same witch who liked cookouts involving kids? And I don’t mean the goat kind of kids…” I asked.
“I was wondering what the initials ‘H & G’ carved in the basement meant,” Copeland teased—or at least I hoped he was teasing.
Before I could do something stupid, like lick the wall nearest me to make sure it was made of wood and not a twisted dessert, Copeland swept me up into his arms. Striding across the room, he deposited me in the middle of a bean bag the size of a bed… where I promptly disappeared.
I squirmed, trying to free myself, only to be swallowed even deeper.
“Do you want help?” Copeland asked, brow raised as he watched the battle playing out in front of him.
“No!” Flinging out my limbs like a spider, I tried to distribute my weight evenly to keep from sinking through all seven levels of bean bag hell. “I totally have this under control.”
“Uh-huh. Sure you do.” Fletcher sat down on the couch across from the bag and laced his fingers behind his head to enjoy the show.
Ignoring both men, I gathered my strength, preparing to fling myself from the cursed cushion masquerading as a chair. The moment my weight shifted, the seat devoured me faster than a hungry hippo.
“Ugh! I thought you said I was going to eat! You said nothing about me getting eaten!”
