Track 3 Crush

He can't mean what I think he does. It doesn't make any sense. There's no reason Liam Cordova would have any interest in me. None. I'm nothing but a beta from literal buttfuck nowhere.

I shake my head again and force a smile to my lips. "I'll sleep on the couch. You can take the bed."

"Absolutely not," Rafe says, his alpha bristling. "This is your home."

I swear I hear Liam mutter under his breath, "for now" but can't concentrate because Rafe has his fingers on my chin making me look at him, and I feel a little lightheaded and giddy as he bends toward me until our noses brush. Dark brown eyes pierce me, pin me in place. "You'll sleep in your own goddamn bed. And we'll sleep with you."

Dazed and dazzled, I nod, agreeing before I even have the chance to really argue. "Good girl," he murmurs, brushing his lips against mine, barely a brush, barely a kiss, but it's enough to make my knees go weak.

Rafe Cordova just freaking kissed me. Sort of.

That's… crazy. Absolutely fucking bonkers.

I have the sudden urge to grab my phone and bury myself under blankets and call Sadie and Sylvie and ask them if this is a normal reaction to a half kiss. Probably an accidental kiss.

He steps away from me, leaving me blinking after him and wondering what the hell just happened, because Rafe Cordova didn't just almost kiss me. See: the reasons why Liam Cordova doesn't actually want to sleep with me.

They're just trying to be polite. Giving me what they think I want. Maybe they're this way with all the fans they come across, or something.

But little do they know they're dealing with the queen of polite. I'll humor them for now, but when it comes time to actually go to bed, I'll politely tell them I'm more comfortable sleeping on the couch. If that doesn't work, I'll just wait them out.

Thankfully, I don't have to continue the argument because there's a knock on my door at that very moment. I start toward it, knowing that it's likely Tommy with my food and I have the very faintest hint of embarrassment that they're going to see that I ordered two large pizzas and a chocolate chip cookie pizza for myself.

Though I suppose it's a good thing, because apparently I'm going to be feeding the two of them, and the only things I have in my fridge are expired condiments and some moldy cheese. Not exactly the gourmet meal the Cordova pack is used to eating.

I'm halfway to the door when Rafe curls his hand around my elbow and pulls me back. "I'll answer it."

I open my mouth to argue, because well it's my house. Also, Tommy is a high school kid, likely a beta, and I'm pretty sure he'll be terrified of the menacing alpha, but Liam wraps an arm around my waist and guides me over to the couch. "Better just let him do it. It's his protective alpha instincts."

"Oh, right," I say, letting the omega tug me onto the center cushion of the couch. It makes sense. Rafe is Liam's alpha and his bodyguard. He'd want to verify that there is no threat to his omega.

The front door opens and I hear Tommy's startled yelp. Liam picks up a blanket and drapes it over both of us before he grabs the remote and flicks on the TV, right to the screen that has his movie pulled up. The one I was watching when he knocked on my door.

My cheeks heat, but I don't comment since I can hear Tommy spluttering out, "Is Sorrel here? Is she okay?"

A warm spot blooms in my chest. I used to babysit him when I was in high school to make extra cash, back when I thought I'd have a bigger life than the Snack Shack and I was saving up for college.

"She's fine," Rafe grumbles at the same time I call out, "I'm fine, Tommy."

I look over my shoulder to the door in time to see him lean around Rafe's considerable bulk. His shoulders relax somewhat when he sees me, but then his eyes widen and he goes tense again. "Is that…"

Next to me, Liam gives a little wiggle of his fingers. "Hey, there."

Tommy's mouth opens and closes like a fish, as he stares at me cuddled up with Liam. Rafe glances over, meeting my eyes. "You pay for this already?"

"What? Oh, yes."

Without another word, Rafe turns, grabs the three pizza boxes and then promptly shuts the door in Tommy's face.

My nose wrinkles. "He's probably going to tell everyone he meets that you're here."

Liam shrugs as Rafe carries our dinner to the kitchen and slides it onto the island. "I doubt anyone will actually believe him. He doesn't have proof."

Rafe looks over at me before he moves to grab plates out of the cabinet. I try to stand up and help. It's my house after all and they're guests, but Liam clamps a hand on my thigh to keep me where I am. "Do you think he'll go to the press, lovely?"

I snort and settle back on the couch. Satisfied that I'm not moving, Liam picks up the remote and flicks through the menu to find something to watch. "No, not at all. Unless you consider the Kilrose Gazette the press." I hold up a hand. "And before you say anything, it's a weekly paper that a group of old biddies put out that is mostly just gossip from around town. Half the stuff they print is just hearsay. And the Ap has never picked up a story from it."

Rafe nods as he flips open the boxes, taking in what I ordered and then slides slices onto plates. "I really can help," I say, pushing to my feet only to be tugged right back onto the couch next to Liam, closer than we had been sitting.

"Just stay put, lovely," he murmurs in my ear. "Rafe has it covered."

Heat flares in my chest and spreads up to my cheeks, and a throb low in my body starts up, wet heat building between my legs.

I'm not an omega, so slick isn't a thing for me, but I am a woman and my body is helpless against Liam. Absolutely freaking helpless.

He chuckles, low and dirty, like he knows the effect he has on me. There's another clenching in my core and I just barely bite back a whimper of need. I've known this man for all of twenty minutes. It's not okay for me to be lusting after him like this.

So freaking embarrassing.

Besides that, he's probably just turning on the charm like he does for fans and interviewers, you know? There's a reason he's America's sweetheart omega along with Hollis Grailess. People love him because he's charming as hell. And handsome, to boot.

You're not special, Sorrel, I remind myself stubbornly. He just needs a place to stay for the night. He's not here for you.

Feeling more resolved after my stern talking to myself, I straighten away from him and push my arousal away.

It's not like anything would come of it, anyway. He's Liam Cordova and I'm just me. Boring, small town, little life me .

My brows jump in surprise when Rafe approaches, expertly balancing three plates on one arm and three drinks in his other. "Did you work as a waiter in a past life or something?" I ask before I can think the better of it.

Rafe chuckles, as he hands out the drinks first, Liam and I taking them quickly. "No, but this one is a demanding little omega. He always wants a million different things when he's in preheat, so I've gotten good at carrying lots of food all at once."

If either man notice that my cheeks have flared bright red at the mention of a heat, they're nice enough to not mention it. "Hey, that makes it sound like I'm hard to live with!" Liam protests, taking his plate from Rafe. He looks at me with big puppy dog eyes. "I'm not, I swear I'm not."

I nudge him with my shoulder and smile at him. "I believe you." Rafe flops onto the spot next to me, squeezing me between them, when I would have thought he'd go for the armchair. The feeling of their strong thighs along the length of mine, their scents mingling in the air makes my stomach flip in a way it hasn't since I was a teenager and I watched as Gage Wagner pulled himself out of the lake and onto my dock with his muscles rippling and his skin all sun kissed.

I'd felt bad after because he's my best friend and we've never looked like that at each other, but I couldn't help but feel it then. He was freaking gorgeous, and it was the first time I realized maybe I had a crush on him. Still do if I'm being honest, even though I haven't seen him in years.

"So," Liam says, settling his plate on his knee and picking up the remote again. "What are we watching?"

I shrug and look down at my food, only partially surprised to find its exactly what I would have made up for myself. One slice of the BBQ chicken, one slice of pesto, spinach, feta and sundried tomato. Though I would have also put two slices of the cookie pizza on there, given my PMS status.

Rafe nudges me with his elbow. "Eat, conejita ."

As Liam settles on a TV show about an FBI agent whose job it is to sit by a phone until it rings, I pick up the first slice and eat.

It's surprising how comfortable I am with both of them, given who they are and what they both do for a living. But we snuggle together and eat, drink too much wine and talk. Conversation flows easily, so much so that eventually Liam pauses the TV show and I put on some music, and we talk until my eyes get heavy and a yawn stretches my mouth.

At some point, Liam points at my guitar. "Do you mind?"

I'm quick to shake my head. "No, of course not. Be my guest."

He gives me the most gorgeous smile as he pushes to his feet and ambles over to pick up the instrument, carrying it back to where Rafe and I are sitting. He perches on the coffee table in front of me when I'd expected him to take the chair to have more space, and pauses, fingers idly strumming before he begins to play.

My heart lurches uncomfortably when I realize what it is. I know this song well, so well in fact that I just put a video of me playing it on my TikTok. Bad Ideas by Tessa Violet. It just went up last week.

But that must be a coincidence, because there's no way that he learned that song because of me. He's not a fan of my dinky little social media site. And he certainly doesn't know that it's me, because I never show my face. It's always filmed from my collarbone down with my guitar or my keyboard in the shot, depending on the song.

I literally bite my tongue to keep from singing along with him, from working out harmonies that would blend our voices together. My mind snapping from one verse to the next, already mentally.

Instead, I sit quietly and just watch his fingers strum. It's freaking addicting as hell and a dream come true. How many people can say that Liam Cordova serenaded them on their own guitar?

When he's finished, I clap, and Rafe whistles and Liam plays another song without my prompting. One song flows into the next, and it might be my imagination, but more than half of them are ones I've made videos of, my own versions strummed out on that very guitar in his hands.

I lean heavily against Rafe, eyes drifting closed, chin bobbing toward my chest. I'm exhausted, but I don't want this night to end. Not even a little, so I keep jerking myself awake to keep it going.

I've done that maybe three times, when Rafe lets out a low chuckle and runs a knuckle down the side of my face. "Okay, conejita. You need to sleep. Let's go to bed, baby."

I hum and snuggle deeper into him, inhaling the gorgeous winter pine scent of him. "I'm good here."

Another soft hand pushes the few strands of hair out of my face, before lips press into my cheekbone, sliding up to my ear. "Come on, lovely, let's go to bed so we can both cuddle you." The words and the touch are so tender it makes my chest ache.

But in the next moment I'm gasping, squealing, because Rafe has stood up from the couch somehow swinging me into his arms. "Don't!" I protest, curling my arms around his shoulders. "I'm too heavy!"

He tsks. "You are not. You're perfect." I want to tell him that my ass and thighs would beg to differ, but he hefts me higher and nuzzles into my neck. "Don't argue, little beta."

He sounds so firm that I do as he says, letting him carry me up the stairs and into my tiny loft bedroom. He settles me on the edge of the mattress and kneels in front of me, fingers hooking into my socks to tug them off, while Liam makes his way to my dresser and starts opening drawers.

A second later, he's back with a tank top and a pair of sleep shorts. "Should we leave you alone to get changed?" Rafe asks, hands gripping the outside of my thighs, thumbs in the crease of my hip joint. The heat of his palm scalding through the denim. His voice sounds raspy, lower and heavier somehow. But a good type of heavy. The type you want to burrow under and let protect you from the entire world.

I swallow and shake my head, even though it's crazy. So freaking crazy. I've never just let two men, two strangers, watch me get undressed.

But then I'm wearing a bralette and a pair of black high waisted panties, both of which cover as much as a bikini. More actually than some I've worn to the lake.

"No, you can stay." Holy hell, is that my voice? When did it start having such a sultry tone?

"Can we help?" Liam asks, kneeling next to me on the bed.

I meet his forest green eyes and give a jerky nod. "Yes."

"Oh thank fuck," he murmurs, looking at the ceiling, before grinning at me. "I'm having a really hard time keeping my hands off you."

"No touching," Rafe says, sounding like a prison guard. "I mean a little touching, but we will not rush this, Liam." He pins his omega with a look that is an entire conversion that I can't make out, beyond the warning there.

But warning against what? Me? Does he see me as a threat? Or maybe he's thinking that come morning I might not have such a shiny new glow and he doesn't want his omega to regret doing anything with me.

That's probably it.

It must be it.

Honestly, I don't think I'm quite ready to just jump into bed with them. Even if it would be wild to say I had sex with Liam Cordova. Not that I would use him for bragging rights.

I've had meaningless sex before and it was not good. When it was over, I felt gross, used and discarded, and I came to the unfortunate realization that in order for me to enjoy sex, I have to actually like who I'm fucking. I have to care about them.

I care about Liam and Rafe, but not in the way I would need to in order to enjoy myself. I care about them in a sort of diaphanous way, like they're humans and so I care about them. More than that, Liam is one of my Hollywood crushes, and if something actually happened to him, I would hate it. But I don't care about them on a personal level, not to where I would need to.

My vagina disagrees, but what does she know, the hussy?

Conversation over, Rafe's hands slide to the waistband of my jeans and flicks open the button, while Liam kneels behind me, sliding his bent knees on either side of my hips. He loops his arms around me and grips the front hem of my t-shirt to pull it over my head.

"Arms up, lovely," he murmurs right against my ear and a gush of wet heat floods between my legs, even as I move on auto pilot to do as he says. Rafe curls his hands in the waistband of my jeans and when my shirt is off, I brace on Liam's thighs to lift my hips and help him pull them down.

In a matter of ten seconds, I'm sitting between them with very little clothing on. Rafe's brown eyes devour me from the front, taking in every dip and swell, my tan skin sprinkled with freckles. His hands grip my hips again, but this time there's no fabric between us and I can feel every callus and knick and scar on his fingers. "You feel like satin," he murmurs, watching his own hand as he strokes over my thigh.

"So soft," Liam agrees, pressing closer to my back, his Lemon Blueberry Cheesecake scent rippling out, soaking into my bedroom, blending perfectly with my light lavender. Rafe's scent is more muted than his omega's, crisp pine and cedar, cold frosty snow.

I love that after they're gone, their scents will linger, even if it's only for a short amount of time. I already know that I won't wash my sheets for as long as I can smell them on them.

The thought of them leaving makes me unreasonably sad, spurred on by my PMS hormones no doubt, and I have to blink away the stinging in my eyes and nose.

Rafe frowns and reaches up to cup my face, thumb stoking over my skin. "What's wrong Sorrel?"

I shake my head. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong."

They both hum, like they don't believe me, but I'm not about to tell them I hate the idea of them leaving tomorrow and never coming back, which is what's going to happen. There is no world in which I see either of them after they leave. And I'll smile through it like I always do.

I do it now too, forcing my lips into a curve that I know they won't be able to tell is fake. I've had too much experience with this expression. Used it over and over again to hide my true emotions. I know it's nearly impenetrable. Even my own mother couldn't tell it was fake.

"It's just…" I say because I do want to give them some kind of truth, but not the one that makes me seem like a crazy clinger. "It's really nice to feel taken care of for a change."

Rafe's face goes soft, his brown eyes like pools of chocolate ganache, smooth and glossy. He bends and presses a kiss to my bare knee before reaching for the shorts on the bed my Liam's knee.

"I think it's something you're going to have to get used to, lovely," Liam murmurs, taking the tank top from his alpha. I bite my bottom lip to keep from telling them they shouldn't say such nice things to me, not when we all know their visit to Lake Kilrose is temporary.

The truth is, I want to hear them. I want to memorize the sweet words so when I'm feeling raw or tired or vulnerable, I can pull them out and hold them close to my chest. Remember the time when America's sweetheart treated me like I was the most precious thing in the world to him.

They dress me in silence, then Liam nudges me until I slide into the center of the bed, tucking myself under the covers, as they stand and strip down to their boxer briefs. Rafe leaves his white undershirt on, while Liam happily discards his on the floor, revealing his smooth pale chest.

I've seen it before, in movies. In his concerts, where he comes out with his shirt mostly unbuttoned. But nothing compares to seeing it like this, up close and in person. Awe-inspiring . I'm going to sleep next to that chest. Have it pressed up against me because my bed isn't very big. I mean, it's big for just me, but for three of us… One of which is an alpha twice my size? It's going to be a tight squeeze.

My mouth goes dry as all the moisture in my body floods between my legs and I squeeze my thighs together to keep from embarrassing myself by doing something stupid, like spreading them wide and saying, "come and get it, boys."

Liam smirks like he saw the movement under the blanket and knows exactly what it means, just before he all but belly flops eagerly onto the bed, scrambling under the blanket and snuggling down with a happy sigh. He turns on his side, facing me as Rafe moves to the other side of the bed much more sedately, and slips under the covers, also facing toward me.

There's a moment where I have no clue what to do, lying there stiffly between them, surrounded by their heat, scent and bodies. I fidget while staring at the ceiling, even when Liam twists to turn the light off.

"Relax, conejita ," Rafe grumbles, sliding his big hand onto my stomach. "We don't bite."

"Well, not unless you ask us to," Liam jokes, moving closer, until that bare chest of his brushes the outside of my arm.

I roll my eyes, even as my cheeks flush. "Could you get anymore cliche, Liam?"

He chuckles. "It got you to relax a little, so I call it a win."

He's not wrong. Almost as soon as he made the ridiculous comment, some of the tension in my body released. Rafe huffs and shifts closer too, his hands rolling me onto my side so I'm facing Liam before he curls his body around mine. Liam moves closer, squishing me between them.

"Sleep, lovely," he murmurs, running his fingers down the side of my face, over my shoulder.

I take a deep breath, glorying in the blending of all our scents together, and letting my eyes drift closed.

"Sorrel," Liam whispers into the crown of my head.

My eyelids are heavy, and I'm already half asleep, so all I can manage is a sleepy hum. Rafe moves closer, pressing into my back, his arm draping over my waist.

Liam doesn't say anything for the longest time, and then, right as I'm drifting off, I swear I hear him ask in the softest, quietest whisper. "Can I keep you?"