Page 92 of Into the Fire: After
Cute little framed photo set of potted plants with punny phrases: Hung.
On a roll, on a sprint, on a jet plane, motherfucker—I couldn’t be stopped!
Until…
“Sunshine, you were supposed todrink water.”
Caine stood over me as I starfished across our new kitchen’s white penny-tile. He hummed as he opened and closed cabinets until he founded the glasses—bottom left, where even I could reach—and filled me a glass.
I groaned as I sat up to sip from it, Caine crouched beside me with his hand splayed across my back. As if I’d have rolled backwards without his arm buttressing me.
Which, to be fair, very possible.
“You know you’re not responsible for unpacking the entire house, right?” he said with mild amusement. “And that every box doesn’t have to be emptiedtoday?”
Sippy sip, eye roll. “Mybrainknows that,” I said. “My omega, on the other hand, has the zoomies like you wouldn’t believe.”
He called me his sunshine, but Caine’s smile toastedmein joy. Once such a rare sweet treat, now given freely.
Mostly freely.
Grump still be grumpin’, sometimes.
Didn’t we all, though?
Oh, man, this preheat is spinning my brain.
Image of a circus performer spinning plates on a stick. A mouse dancing on top. In a plumed hat.
I groaned, shoving my palms against my eyes. “Fucking hell, Omega,chill the fuck out!” I shouted at myself.
Caine looked up as footsteps sounded behind us and the scent of palo santo and eucalyptus hugged me from behind.
Wait, nope. Those were arms.
“All right, sweetness,” Brooks hummed in my ear as he helped me stand. “You’re going to take a nap and rest that beautiful body of yours.”
I scoffed. “Yeah, tell that to the omega sprinting circles in my skin.”
My beta grinned, dimples out in full force, as he held up a pink sugar-dusted cube. I cocked a brow. “Ummm…”
“Not a pharmaceutical,” he said. “En-tiiiiiiire-ly natural.”
I scrunched my face in suspicion.
“You could say,” he continued, “it’sfour hundred twentypercent all-natural.”
I crossed my arms. Granted, I wasn’topposedto a li’l MJ action, but my omega was wary of anything that would slow her down.
Brooks held the edible closer in front of my face. His voice had an enticing lilt to it as he sang, “It’sgrapefruit flavored!”
Dude, why didn’t you start there?
I ate the cube straight from his palm like a tiny manic horse. The guys had moved the sofa inside, though it sat catty wampus in the middle of the box-filled living area.
Don’t care.
Soft.
