Page 112 of Eight Count Heat
He laughs, the sound warming me from the inside out. "Very responsible," he agrees, pulling on boxers and jeans. "Thorough, even."
The easy banter helps dispel some of the morning-after awkwardness. By the time we finish packing, the tension has transformed into something more comfortable—a shared secret, a private connection.
My phone buzzes with a text from Gray:Team meeting in 30 minutes. Lobby. Status update required.
The real world, intruding on our bubble of intimacy. I show Bo the message.
"Status update," he reads, brow furrowing slightly. "Well, that's one way to ask if you survived the night."
"Gray's nothing if not tactful," I say dryly.
A rapid knock at the door startles us both. Bo gestures for me to stay back as he moves to check the peephole.
"It's Beckett," he says, relaxing slightly before opening the door.
Beckett Monroe lounges against the doorframe, golden hair artfully tousled, grin firmly in place. "Well, well, well. You're both alive. And fully clothed. Disappointing."
"What do you want, Monroe?" I ask, trying for annoyed but failing to hide my smile. After everything we've been through, his irreverence is oddly comforting.
"Just checking on our favorite coxswain." His eyes scan the room, taking in the stripped bed and open window. "Sounds like you had quite the night. These walls are remarkably thin."
Heat flushes my cheeks as I realize the team likely heard everything. "Fuck."
"That's what it sounded like, yes." Beckett's grin widens.
Bo moves protectively toward me. "Beck."
"Relax, big guy. I'm just messing around." Beckett holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Actually, Zane sent me to warn you that Gray's on the warpath. He's organizing some kind of team strategy session before we leave, and he's particularly interested in your... condition, Cox."
"My condition is fine," I say, trying to maintain some dignity.
"I can see that." His eyes sparkle with mischief. "Bo clearly has hidden talents. Who knew all that Southern gentility was hiding such a wild side? The things we heard..."
"That's enough," Bo growls, but there's no real heat behind it.
"Just saying, Strickland." Beckett winks at me. "If you need any assistance during the bus ride home, I volunteer as tribute."
"I'm good, thanks," I reply, rolling my eyes. "How's everyone else?"
Beckett's expression turns more serious. "Concerned. Jackson's on edge, keeps mumbling about biology and complications. Eli's been calculating something all morning, probably your pheromone half-life or something equally nerdy. Cameronhasn't said a word, which isn't unusual, but his brooding is at maximum intensity."
"And Gray?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.
"Our fearless captain is in full-on crisis management mode. I think he's drawing up rotation schedules." Beckett leans closer, voice dropping. "Just a heads up, he's planning something for when we get back to campus. Something about 'maintaining stability until your prescription arrives.'"
My stomach twists with a mixture of embarrassment and something dangerously close to anticipation. "Great."
"You feeling up to a team meeting?" Bo asks, his concern evident. "The suppressant's completely gone now."
I consider the question honestly, taking stock of my body's signals. "I think I'm okay for now. Your... assistance... has taken the edge off."
"I bet it has," Beckett murmurs, eyebrows waggling.
Bo shoots him a warning look, but can't quite hide his pleased expression. "Happy to be of service."
"I bet you are." I roll my eyes, but can't help returning his smile. "But seriously, I should be okay for the bus ride back. Once we're on campus..." I trail off, the uncertainty of the situation catching up to me again.
"One problem at a time," Bo says, the phrase he's repeated throughout this ordeal. "We'll figure it out."
