Page 94 of The Butcher

Worried I did something wrong, I straightened up a bit, my hand falling from Nash’s hair. I frown at my beta, no clue what he’s doing as he puts too much space between us, my anxiety spiking because now I’m convinced I did something wrong.

I don’t want space.

Not from them, not anymore.

We don’t have to do anything else, Clay can put his clothes back on if he wants, but I want him to come back, to be close to me, to be touching me in some way no matter the intent behind it. I want them both close right now, and if I messed up in some way, I’d almost rather he tell me so I can fix it, than go back to how things were before that.

A few more seconds of whatever is happening now, and I’ll run right to my nest, close myself inside, and lock the door.

But… I don’t want that. Not really. I want to stay with Nash and Clay, and I?—

“Indigo.”

I turn to my alpha as he grunts my name, looking for some sort of explanation or direction but instead of either of those things, he gives me something else entirely.

Nash brushes his lips against mine as he cups my cheek, my heart nearly stopping at the feel of how soft they are, his green eyes a shade darker as he stares.

He’s asking permission.

God, how that makes my tattered heart soar once again over how perfect these men are.

With a subtle nod, I lean toward him, my eyes fluttering closed as Nash gently presses his lips to mine.

It’s hesitant and restrained, cautious, but my first real kiss is perfect.

Soft and sweet, my alpha’s kiss is so different from his rough and intimidating exterior. He’s confident but he’s not smothering or controlling, not like the other kisses I’ve experienced. Nash is sure of himself but he’s letting me decide how this goes, too, even as he slides his fingers into my hair, threading them through the streak of red, and tilts his head.

So, I do my best to deepen the kiss.

I part my lips for him, allowing my alpha to nip at the lower one, relishing in the way his purring grows louder.

That’s because of me.

I don’t know what it really means, or exactly why Nash is doing it, but I’m positive it’s a good thing because I really like it, and I’m almost sure I’m the one who’s causing it.

With a growl, Nash slowly pulls back, taking a deep breath as he presses his forehead against mine. “Gotta stop, sweetheart. Just for now, but I have to.”

“Okay,” I say with a smile, lifting my hand to his cheek then smoothing my thumb under the bottom of his glasses. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“I expect nothing less.”

“So…” I pause, waiting for Nash to look me in the eye. “When do I get to see you without a shirt on?”

He barks out a laugh as I giggle, but it’s cut short the second my alpha leans back long enough to lose his white t-shirt, momentarily rendering me speechless when he leans further for me to get a good look.

And do I get a good look.

Nash is another big, muscly, tattooed man, but he is very different from Clay.

He’s tan, the deeper tone of his skin showing through the countless tattoos, and the definition of his body is a bit more pronounced than my beta. He also has chest hair, whereas Clayton only has a little around his belly button that starts a strip that goes directly into his pants. Nash has it all over both pecs, his stomach, and it also disappears into the top of his pants. It’s not ridiculously obvious or thick, but I can see it, and I like it.

Which, of course, is exactly where my hands go.

His chest pumps a little faster as I run my fingers over it, quickly rising and falling against my palm, faster still when Igraze his nipples then travel down over his stomach the same way I did with Clayton.

Beautiful.

They are both so beautiful, and I’m not only lucky that they seem to reciprocate how I feel despite what our shared, stupid, bullheaded alpha does, they’re phenomenal to look at, too.

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