Page 100 of Daisy
"We want that too," August says finally. "When you're ready to choose."
When I'm ready. Not if. When. The certainty in his voice makes my chest tight with something that might be hope.
"Oh my god," I say suddenly, sitting up. "The pasta. We completely forgot about the pasta."
August laughs, the sound warm and surprised. "Pretty sure it's ruined by now."
"Worth it," Cassian says quietly, and the simple honesty in his voice makes me blush.
We sit there for a moment, all three of us smiling. It feels so normal. So right. Like this is what family is supposed to feel like.
Outside, I can hear movement. Voices. The others are out there, giving us space, probably wondering what's happening in here. Probably wondering if they should make dinner since we clearly failed at it.
The thought makes me smile. Dante with his careful gentleness and those ice-blue eyes that see everything. Hawk with his dangerous grin and the way he makes me laugh when I'm scared. Gunner and his quiet strength, the memory of our first kiss still making my lips tingle.
They're all out there. Waiting. Not pushing, just... waiting.
And maybe, soon, I'll be brave enough to stop waiting too.
Chapter 27
Hawk
Aweek since the pasta disaster.
That's how I'm measuring time now. Seven days since Daisy, August, and Cassian disappeared into that bedroom and came out looking like they'd discovered the meaning of life. Seven days of watching her glow with new confidence while I stand on the sidelines like some kind of monk.
I wake up hard as a fucking rock and ready to punch something.
Her scent hits me the second consciousness returns—thick and sweet and so goddamn intoxicating my cock jerks against my jeans like I've been shocked. Honeysuckle and vanilla, but deeper. Like liquid sex poured over everything I've ever craved.
The scent goes straight to my head, makes my mouth water and my hands shake with the need to touch. My knot threatens to swell just from breathing her in, and I have to bite back a groan that would wake the whole damn cabin.
Seven days of this. Seven days of her getting bolder, more affectionate, more comfortable with her own wants.
Seven days of watching her choose everyone but me.
Through the thin walls, I can hear movement in the bedroom. Soft voices. The rustle of sheets. August's gentle murmur—something about making coffee—and then...
Oh, fuck me.
A soft, sleepy moan. Followed by what I'm pretty sure is kissing. Not just a peck either. The real deal. Slow and thorough and intimate as hell.
My cock throbs against my jeans, and I bite back a curse.
"Morning, sunshine," I hear August say, his voice warm with affection.
"Mmm, good morning," she replies, her voice is all husky with sleep and satisfaction. "Sleep well?"
"Best sleep of my life. You?"
"Perfect." Another kissing sound, longer this time. "I love waking up next to you."
I love waking up next to you.
The words hit me like a physical blow. Not because I'm jealous of August—okay, fine, I'm a little jealous—but because I want that too. Want to know what it feels like to have her choose me. To have her curl up against me and tell me she loves waking up in my arms.
I want to stop being the one she hasn't chosen yet.
