Page 67 of Nesting With My Three Alphas
"I'm ready," I whispered as their touches grew bolder, as my heat responded to their proximity with waves of need and want and absolute rightness. "I'm finally ready to be yours."
This was it. The beginning of everything I'd ever wanted love to be. And this time, I was choosing it from a place of strength rather than fear.
Hands, voices, scents. They were all around me now, all part of the future I was no longer afraid to reach for.
This time, I wasn't being taken, I was stepping into forever.
Chapter 22
Kit
Micah's kiss tasted like promises and patience, like all the mornings he'd watched me from across his bakery counter and imagined this moment. His hands framed my face with a reverence that made my heat-sensitive skin sing, every touch sending sparks of sensation through my nervous system.
This was what I'd been missing.
"I've wanted this for so long," Micah murmured against my lips, his breath warm and scented with the vanilla-and-cardamom mixture that had become my favorite comfort. "Wanted to show you how beautiful you are, how much you deserve to be cherished."
His words sent a flush of heat through me that had everything to do with being seen, truly seen, by someone who loved every part of me. Even the broken pieces I was still learning to heal.
Reed and Jonah had given us space but remained close enough that I could feel their presence, their protectiveattention. They weren't watching with impatience or jealousy, but with the satisfaction of alphas seeing their omega properly worshipped by their packmate.
Micah's hands moved slowly, deliberately, mapping every curve and hollow with the focused attention of someone who wanted to memorize exactly what made me gasp, what made me arch into his touch. When his fingers traced the sensitive skin along my ribs, I couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped.
"That's it," he encouraged softly. "Let me hear what you like. Let me learn what makes you feel good."
Let me learn. Not demanding, not assuming he already knew, but asking to be taught. The difference between this and every intimate experience I'd had with Marcus was staggering.
"I like your hands," I whispered, surprising myself with my boldness. "They're gentle but strong. They make me feel safe."
"Good," Micah said, his voice roughening slightly with arousal. "I want you to feel safe. I want you to feel worshipped."
His mouth moved to my neck, finding the sensitive spot where my scent gland would soon carry his mark. The first brush of his lips there sent electricity straight through me, making my back arch and my hands fist in the blankets of our nest.
"Micah," I breathed, and heard the desperate edge in my own voice.
"I know, sweetheart. I can smell how much you need this." His hand slipped lower, ghosting over my breast with barely-there touches that somehow felt more intense than anything Marcus had ever done with rough handling. "Can I touch you? Really touch you?"
He was asking permission. Even with my heat scent saturating the air, even with my obvious arousal, he was making sure I wanted this.
"Please," I whispered. "Please touch me."
When his palm finally cupped my breast fully, when his thumb brushed over my nipple with just the right amount of pressure, I cried out with genuine surprise at how good it felt. My body had never responded like this before. Like every nerve ending was connected directly to pleasure instead of anxiety.
"So responsive," Micah breathed, his touch growing confident, attuned to every gasp and shiver. "So perfect. Do you know how incredible you are?"
I was starting to.
His mouth joined his hands, lips and tongue creating patterns of sensation that made me understand why omegas were supposed to crave alpha attention during heat. This wasn't about biology or obligation. This was about pleasure so intense it rewrote everything I thought I knew about my own body.
"I need more," I heard myself say, the words coming from some deep, honest place. "I need you closer."
"Whatever you need," Micah promised, his own breathing becoming ragged as my heat pheromones continued to intensify. "Tell me what you want."
What did I want?
"I want to touch you too," I said, my hands reaching for the buttons of his shirt. "I want to see you, feel you."
Micah's smile was radiant as he helped me undress him, his patience never wavering even though I could see how much my touch affected him. When my palms finally made contact with the warm skin of his chest, when I could feel his heartbeat racing under my fingers, something inside me settled into place.
