Page 59 of Bound By Alphas 1: Bound

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in the darkness.

“Mmm,” I mumbled, already half-asleep despite my best efforts to stay alert and guarded.

I expected him to stay on his side of the bed—it was certainly big enough for both of us to maintain a respectable distance. Instead, I felt his arm snake around my waist, pulling me back against his chest in one smooth motion.

“What are you doing?” I asked, suddenly wide awake as I felt the solid wall of his body pressed against my back.

“Getting comfortable,” he replied, his breath warm against my neck. “This is how we used to sleep, remember?”

I remembered all too well. “We were kids then.”

“And now we’re adults,” he said, his arm tightening slightly around me. “Is that the problem, Finn? That we’re not kids anymore?”

There was something in his voice—a question beneath the question—that made my heart race. I was acutely aware of everypoint of contact between us: his chest against my back, his arm around my waist, his legs tangled with mine.

“I don’t know what you mean,” I lied, my voice embarrassingly unsteady.

“I think you do,” he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I think you’ve been running from us because you’re afraid of what happens when you stop.”

I swallowed hard, grateful for the darkness that hid my expression. “You’re reading too much into a sleeping arrangement.”

“Am I?” His hand splayed across my stomach, warm even through the thin fabric of my t-shirt. “Then why is your heart racing?”

“Because you’re invading my personal space,” I retorted, though I made no move to pull away.

“Funny,” he mused, his thumb tracing small circles just above the waistband of my shorts. “You never used to mind my ‘invasions’ before. In fact, you used to seek them out.”

“That was?—”

“Different?” he supplied. “How?”

Because I didn’t understand what I was feeling then. Because I hadn’t realized that the comfort I sought from you was turning into something else entirely. Because I hadn’t known that fate had some sick joke planned where my adoptive brothers would turn out to be my mates.

“Just different,” I said finally, unable to articulate the tangled mess of emotions without revealing too much.

Keir was quiet for a long moment, his breathing steady against my neck. When he spoke again, his voice was softer. “I’ve missed this, you know. Having you close.”

The simple admission made something in my chest ache. “Keir…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he assured me. “Just sleep. We can figure out the rest tomorrow.”

As if it were that simple. As if years of confusion and longing and guilt could be resolved over breakfast.

But his warmth was seeping into my bones, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against my back, and despite all my reservations, I relaxed into his embrace. It felt right in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely.

“Good night, little fox,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Night,” I whispered back, already feeling sleep tugging at the edges of my consciousness.

My last coherent thought before drifting off was that I was in serious trouble. Because as much as I wanted to deny it, there was nowhere I’d rather be than exactly where I was—wrapped in Keir’s arms, surrounded by his scent, pretending for just one night that this could be real.

That I could be his.

That they could be mine.

Chapter 11

Iwoke to the feeling of being watched.

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