Page 190 of Altius
It was okay, I told myself. I could go back to sleep.
My alphas had me.
Forty-Five
Morgan
Wyatt and I were both too drained to work out in the morning. Instead, we lazed around in the nest and then took a lengthy shower together.
After washing each other’s hair, he lathered up a shower pouf with body wash while I took my sweet time spreading conditioner through his silky black tresses.
“What made you decide to grow it out?” I asked, angling his head under the streaming water so the runoff wouldn’t get into his eyes.
“Wasn’t much of a decision.” He ran the sudsy pouf up my left arm. “Didn’t feel like going to the barber all the time, and it just happened. Less upkeep this way. What about you?”
As the pouf skimmed along my collarbone and breasts, Wyatt stroked the curve of my hip, his touch needy rather than seductive, reassuring himself that I was within easy reach.
“Got sick of the maintenance, and constant ponytails aggravated my headaches. My hairdresser suggested a bob because it’s easier to manage. Turns out I’m a fan.”
“Me too.” Wyatt wrapped me in his arms, pressing a long kiss to the center of my forehead as the pouf settled between my shoulder blades. “The cut. The color. It suits you.”
Slipping my arms around his wet back, I rested my chin on his shoulder.
I just existed for a moment, safe in his embrace, marveling that we were together, focusing on the positive rather than yesterday’s devastation.
At least we were both still in the early stages of waning syndrome. It was treatable. Unpleasant and distressing, sure, but the odds were in our favor.
The water sluiced over our bodies, racing down the muscled planes of his torso and meandering around my curves—forms that were both leaner than when we first reconnected four months ago.
“I think the moral of the story is that we both hate fuss,” I murmured, trailing my lips across his skin.
“You’re probably the only woman in the world who looks at my wardrobe and thinks it’s practical instead of embarrassing.”
“I live in scrub pants and Narwhals t-shirts. We’re just dressing for the jobs we have. It’s just that those jobs require zero effort for fashion.”
Kissing the junction of my neck, Wyatt whispered, “Will you keep loving me even if I’m still wearing shorts every day when we’re eighty?”
“Yes,” I said without hesitation. “Because it means we made it through this.”
He swallowed hard. “Morgan…”
“Besides, if this all pans out the way I’m starting to think it will, I’ll have the best-looking and most intelligent pack of men to show off at Joaquin’s poker nights and Cal’s fundraising soirees.”
Wyatt tightened his embrace, pressing our bodies flush together. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Good, because you’re a key component of the handsome faction.” I stroked the centerline of his back. “Can’t grow old without you.”
“Ditto. So, we do whatever Cal and Owen tell us to. I also think we ought to consult with Aunt Tabby.”
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Hesitation made my voice shake. “Still haven’t figured out how to tell Kelsey.”
“Just enjoy lunch. We can tell her later, together. Maybe even make a trip to see your parents with Cal and Owen to break the news to them in person.”
Pulling back, I met his pale gaze, ringed with shadows. “You sure are mentioning your brother a lot this morning.”
“Well…” He stared at the foggy glass enclosure of the shower. “We might not talk much, but I trust him. He’s never let me down. Always made sure I had lunch money and new shoes for school. That I didn’t suffer. It’s… I guess he’s always been more of an authority figure to me than a friend. But I do admire him. A lot. He was out winning math and science competitions while I was in remedial reading classes.”
Digesting his words, I reached over and turned off the shower.
