Page 72 of Ready or Not

It’s a shitty thought to have, but I’m getting desperate.

The bullet wound on my side twinges as I aim for the gym. There’s no way I’m sleeping tonight without exhausting my body first.

The treadmill is my least favorite cardio activity. Pull-ups, dips, rowing, hell, I’ll even jump rope in a pinch—any of those are preferable to running on an endless loop. With my injury still healing, Ramirez told me to keep it light for two to three weeks.

It’s unfortunate, but it is what it is.

I jog until my entire body aches. On the plus side, my wound no longer throbs, because my body is in triage mode with too many other aches and pains vying for synapse space.

The wall of windows in front of me looks out over the property and the trees that spill into the woods. It’s peaceful, but movement in the mirror to my left catches my attention. It takes an additional few seconds for me to pick up Vale’s form in the glass as she approaches.

Yanking out my ear buds, I toss them into the cup holder and start pacing myself down. The bottom of her pajama dress bounces as she stomps over. She comes to a stop as I step off the treadmill and grab my towel.

“Is everything okay?”

“Mercy came to bed two hours ago.” She huffs, planting her hands on her hips. “You did not. I had to walk all the way down here to find you.”

My forehead wrinkles, and I try to understand if I’m in trouble for not coming to bed.

With the three of them, does she even need me?

Did she really miss me?

I like the idea of that…quite a fucking lot.

“I’m sorry.” I swipe the towel over my sweaty face.

“You should be.” She grabs my arm. “And don’t waste that. You smell incredible.”

A deep chuckle bubbles out as I toss the towel back over the bench.

My gaze refocuses on hers.

Her blue eyes are hazy. She wiggles closer, rubbing her stomach. “These Braxton Hicks contractions are actually getting painful, but that’s not what woke me up. You didn’t come to bed.” It sounds like an accusation.

I wrap my arm around her back, pulling her closer.

She whimpers and dives forward to bury her nose in my chest. “Yep, you still smell delicious.”

“Thanks.” I chuckle, guiding her over to the couch and pulling her to sit in my lap. “I didn’t want to invite myself in,” I say, referencing her earlier statement. My hand finds its way into her hair as the other runs down her spine. “I’m not technically part of your pack. If we go to bed together and you extend an invite, that’s one thing.”

“I thought you knew you were invited,” she says, sliding her hands up my sides.

I lean forward, and she pulls my shirt off before tossing it aside. Her face lands against my chest once more as she grinds over my lap. “I’m like a million months pregnant. I just need my pack close and safe.”

“And you consider me part of that pack?” I ask, tilting her face up to mine, using my hold in her hair.

“I mean, my impulses feel like you are.”

“Your impulses, huh?” I tease, brushing my lips over hers.

I’m not expecting her to shove her tongue into my mouth, but I dig it. She rubs her pussy over my lap as we kiss, and my cock instantly hardens. Her scent is everything. We’re highly compatible, and smelling her perfume affects me just as strongly as it did in DC.

A low growl rattles out, and I pull back just enough to speak. “Should I take you to your alphas? Because your scent is too strong for me to be gallant for long.”

“No, I’m comfy right here.” She nods. “You’re super sweaty. Exactly how long were you working out?”

“No clue,” I murmur as she stretches up, bumping my neck to the side. She licks my throat while my hands slide under the bottom of her pajama dress. “This off?”

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