Page 61 of Justice for Puck Bunnies

Fuck that. Discomfort simmers low in my belly. My insides cramp and my repressed omega instincts hate keeping a distance.

I’ll admit, late at night, when darkness allows my mind to wander onto unknown paths, that at least part of my physical distance from the guys is about maintaining emotional distance.

Mason isn’t my boyfriend. He definitely isn’t pack.

But he is . . .

“This movie’s a lot darker than I remembered,” Vin comments.

“Mean Girls is still on the table.”

“Let’s just get to the part where she’s dancing with the whip and then try something else.”

Snuggling up to him, I fold my legs together over his lap and rest my head on his chest. He throws an arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head.

Another pang hits low, lower than my belly, and I squirm. I try and fail to cover it by grabbing my phone to search the online guide for another movie option.

“You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just getting comfortable.”

He doesn’t press the issue, but by the time Bruce Wills staggers into an exotic dancing club, we’re both worn out by the movie. I scroll through the channel guide on my phone.

“Magic Mike’s on,” I note.

“No chance in hell.”

“Oh, come on! He’s an athlete. Shouldn’t you be impressed by his coordination?”

“Still a no.”

“Then you pick,” I huff.

He snatches my phone and thumbs through the screen.

While he’s perusing the options, a notification for one of my fan site accounts pops up.

Brad’s secret account is thumbs-downing my latest series of rants.

“What’s that?” Vin asked.

Shit. I grab for it, but he flings his arm out.

Vin uses his considerable reach to hold the phone away and selects the notification so the app opens.

I climb over him to reach it, but he wraps an arm around my waist and holds me in place. No amount of flailing will extend my arms the extra foot I need.

Vin’s face stretches into this broad, amused smile.

“CannonGrl327 says, Brad Cameron does fantastic skating for someone with lead feet. Have we confirmed they’re made of flesh and bone and he’s not some kind of rusty robot?”

He bursts out laughing when he reads the next comment.

“ILuvCannonBalls responds, maybe that’s why he buys feet pics on the internet!”

Vin’s so busy laughing that he loses focus on what I’m doing and I snatch my phone back.

“All’s fair in love and war,” I note. “Besides, a little healthy criticism would do Brad good. He does need to work on his ankle strength.”

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