Page 6 of In Too Deep

“Good to see you, too, sunshine.” He laughs and hoists her a little higher in his arms.

“God, y’all took forever to get here,” she groans, her words muffled as she refuses to look up from where she’s buried her nose into Eli’s neck.

I smile fondly, my heart only aching a little. Tori and I have done some serious work to improve our relationship, but my instincts haven’t quite gotten the “taking it slow” memo. Her smile might turn my insides to goo, and her scent might make my knot ache, but I know better than to push her. One day, she’ll jump on me like this. But for now, I can convince myself that I’m happy she’s happy.

Oli growls, nudging me and Eli forward with light shoulder checks. I glance at him, but then have to do a double take at how his amber eyes are scanning the street as if he expects a killer clown to jump out from behind one of the hydrangea bushes. I furrow my brow in confusion, but Oliver shakes his head to one side, then the other, subtle but effective. We’ll talk later. Eli doesn’t even notice the exchange as he carries Tori over the threshold.

As soon as the front door is closed, Oli relaxes almost instantly. I glance around Tori’s living space, smiling at the cute but whimsical decor. There’s a distinctly Tori-shaped dent in the pile of blankets on the sofa, an empty wineglass abandoned on the coffee table with her work laptop beside it with the lid closed.

“You’re gonna choke me out.” Eli laughs, pretending to do just that even as he walks farther into the house. He doesn’t take off his shoes; none of us do. Oli checks his watch as he takes a seat in the recliner, and I take a seat right on the edge of the sofa, facing Tori and Eli as they collapse into a heap. The sudden landing finally dislodges Tori’s barnacle grip on Eli’s neck, and she gasps, a bright flush spreading over her cheeks.

“Sorry, I don’t...yeah. Anyway. Hi.” She stumbles over her words breathlessly.

“Bonjour, ma reine. Nous vous avons manqué?”1 Oliver practically purrs, and even my stomach flips at the sinful smirk he’s aiming her way.

“Oui, mon roi,” Tori responds without missing a beat.

Then she’s off the couch and in his lap, her hands in his hair as she claims his mouth in a firm kiss. His hands go to her hips and hold her steady as he sits up and scoots to the edge of his seat, her little moan making my mouth water. The kiss doesn’t last long, but it feels like the temperature of the room just went up by five or ten degrees. She turns slowly, her eyes connecting with mine. Suddenly, I don’t know what to do with my hands, or my tongue. Should I say something? Do we need to talk about what happened this morning? Is she feeling okay?

My brain short-circuits as she gives Oliver another kiss, this one brief but sticky sweet, before sauntering over to stand before me. I crane my head back, staring up at her beautiful heart-shaped face, too stunned to speak. Her smile is soft and slow, the warmest I’ve seen from her since fate brought us back together at the start of this season. She reaches up a hand, gently twisting a curly lock of my hair around one of her slender fingers.

“That was a stupid goal you let in,” she says, that smile never fading.

I smirk back at her. “Yeah, it was. My mind wasn’t exactly on the ice with me tonight,” I admit, flushing pink in the ears.

She tilts her head to one side. “Where was it?” she asks, all innocence.

I let out a little warning growl before I move, but she doesn’t flinch. Then I’m on my feet, sweeping her into my arms, bending her back as I slant my lips over hers. When she doesn’t pull away but threads her fingers into my hair, pulling slightly, I purr against her mouth. Not to get me to let go, but just to hold meharder. God, she tastes incredible, and there’s still a touch of Eli’s cranberries and Oliver’s bergamot left on her lips. I hold her tighter to my chest, internally preening now that I know she’s covered in our scents.

I lose track of time, and it could be a few seconds or two days when Oliver clears his throat, pulling mine and Tori’s attention back to him. He’s on his feet again, a paper envelope in his hands. Right. The plan.

“What’s that?” she pants, turning in my arms to face Oli. My hands come to rest on the curve of her waist, compromising with my alpha, who just wants to encircle her in my limbs completely until it would take an entire team of anatomical experts to determine where she ends and I begin.

“Your Christmas present,” Eli says, then gets to his feet and straightens his hair and jacket. There’s a distinct smudge of dusty pink all over his neck that he’s not even making an effort to hide. I should be jealous, I realize, but I feel that same internal preening to see how thoroughly Tori marked him.

Tori pauses, shifting her weight onto her back foot. “I didn’t realize... I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts until Christmas morning.” Confusion paints her words.

“Well, this one is a little different,” Oli says as he holds out the envelope for her to take.

There’s only the sound of paper scraping against itself as Tori carefully opens the plain white receptacle, almost like one you’d pick up at a bank. But the slips of paper Tori pulls from inside aren’t cash. They are…

“Plane tickets? And are they for tonight? Where the fuck—” Tori’s shout makes me jolt, and she paces around, a hand on her forehead.

Oliver smirks. “Pack your swimsuit, princess. We’re going to Saint Martin.”

1. Translation (French): Hello, my queen. Did you miss me?

I stare at theplane tickets for another moment, internal panic alarms blaring in my head. Realistically, I’ve only known these three guys for a few months, and they want to whisk me away to some sunny, tropical beach for Christmas? I know I shouldn’t go, but…

It’s been so long since I’ve given myself a real vacation. Like truly unplugged from work and just relaxed. Going home to visit family in the off season hardly counts, because my family is so steeped in hockey culture, they practically sweat sports drinks.

“I can see the wheels turning in that gorgeous head of yours. We took care of everything, the flights, the villa, even most of the clothes packing. You just have to grab a few of your essentials, and say yes, and then we’ll handle the rest,” Eli says, approaching with his hands spread in a gesture of peace, as if he’s coming up on a spooked horse.

Maybe I am. Or maybe I’ve lost every goddamn marble I’ve ever had because the picture forming in my head sounds too good to be true. A long weekend away from everything, to figure out what the fuck is going on with this attraction between all of us.

No phones. No pings. No worries.

Eli looks like he’s going to try to say something else, but I cut him off by turning on my heel and marching toward my hall closet, the plane tickets still clutched in my hand.

---