1. Meggie

1

Meggie

I ’m on a Christmas mission, and I need to get it done before the guys notice. They’d never let me do this on my own. They’re too protective for their own good.

I want this to be a surprise. A sexy surprise we can enjoy together.

Which is why I’m in the garage, looking for a ladder. The space is immaculate. Every wrench and socket set has a designated spot. Oz even labeled the hooks for each set of pliers. Soon after the Olympics, he took over the garage as a workspace for his venture into fixing up old motorcycles. He’s not the tidiest of the pack, but with his work, he’s particular.

The ladder is hanging on the wall too high for me to reach, so I drag over a step stool. If I don’t want Oz to know I messed around in here, I’ll have to put it back exactly where I found it. Tossing my brown hair up in a quick ponytail, I slide the stool into place. The moment I climb up on it and get my hands around the metal ladder, I hear Oz’s motorcycle.

Shit!

It’s not like it’s a big deal if they find out what I’m doing, but I really want to surprise them with something.

I grab the ladder so quickly I lose my footing on the step stool. It tilts, sways. The ladder clangs to the floor as I right myself and narrowly avoid falling. One side is dented, and I know Oz will notice. But the vroom of his motorcycle is closer now. The garage door will go up any second.

Kicking the stool back where I grabbed it from, I grip the ladder and struggle to fit it through the door that leads into the laundry room. Just as I get it inside, I hear the garage door open.

I hear Ellis and Dante in the kitchen talking about what to make for dinner. If I carry the ladder through the hall now, they’ll see me. Spinning in a circle, I look for somewhere to stash the ladder, but the laundry room isn’t exactly spacious.

The handle on the door turns. I throw the ladder against the wall, then rip off my shirt. Oz steps inside, his eyes immediately going to my bra rather than the ladder. “What’s going on?”

We’ve been a pack for almost five months, but these men still hit me right in the heart. Oz greets me with his scent of rain and night blooming jasmine, and a slight undertone of metal and gasoline from his bike ride. There’s a hint of red to his cheeks from his snug helmet padding. The dark swirls and marks of tattoos peek over the edge of his matte black jacket.

Physically, Oz is a masterclass in panty-dropping badass biker, but emotionally he’s mine. I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. Mmm, I love it when he wraps his own fingers around my neck when we play.

“Just doing some laundry.” I throw my shirt in the washing machine. Hopefully, he’ll think I just got a stain on it and wanted to get it in the wash right away. I don’t want to lie to him, but I’m not above using distraction. I grab the lapels of his leather jacket and kiss him.

He grips my ass and lifts me onto the dryer. I moan and wrap my legs around him, deepening our kiss.

“What’s the ladder doing there?” Harrison’s voice pulls me away from Oz. His smoky scent meets and mingles with Oz’s tones of secret rendezvous and rain showers. I want to laugh that he wasn’t at all surprised to find Oz and I making out half-dressed in the laundry room, but the ladder against the wall is comment worthy.

Harrison crosses his arms. “It’s a safety hazard to have it leaning like that.”

I shrug, trying to pass as ignorant. Harrison narrows his eyes. “Why are you nervous?”

We’ve all gotten better at blocking our emotions from each other when we want to, but Harrison is particularly good at sensing things through our bonds.

“I think what you’re picking up on is excitement.” I wiggle my eyebrows, reminding Harrison what Oz and I were just doing.

The corner of his lips twitches.

“Put the ladder away, Oz.” He steps toward me and shoves Oz to the side.

“Hey, I didn’t get the ladder out.” Oz slides his arm back around my waist and pulls me close. “And I was here first.”

They rarely fight over me, but sometimes Harrison will go all pack alpha and want me all to himself. That possessive side of him is so damn hot.

“You could share,” I suggest. It’s rare for Harrison to share unless it’s during a heat, but Oz is always up for sharing. Lately, I’ve gotten the sense that Oz wants to do more than share, like maybe he might want to experiment too. He hasn’t said anything to any of us about it yet, so I don’t want to push him. But maybe a little mistletoe around the house will be the perfect subtle nudge.

Harrison glares at Oz, who rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Oz grumbles. “I’ll put away the ladder.”

So much for hanging the mistletoe before dinner.

“How was your meeting?” I ask Harrison, running his red tie through my fingers. He looks so handsome in his suit and tie. Not a strand of his dirty blonde hair is out of place. Back when I first joined the pack, it was rare to see him in anything but athletic gear and swimsuits. Now, he’s almost always dressed up. I enjoy this career-driven professional side of my man that shines outside of the swimming pool.

“Good. I think we’ve got most of my platform hammered out now.” With a flick of his wrist, he unhooks my bra and slides it off my shoulders. Reaching behind me with a hungry spark in his gaze, he turns on the dryer.

The vibration and warmth of the machine immediately has me needy. I open the bond and let him feel all of it. He groans and rubs his thumb over the bond mark between my breasts, right over my heart. I wrap my legs around his waist and pull him closer, undoing the buttons on his dress shirt as I ask him more about the meeting.

A big part of his platform is omega rights, and he’s constantly seeking my opinion and really listening to my thoughts. His willingness to include me in his life and truly hear me out is definitely a turn on.

Within minutes, we’ve both lost the train of conversation. He’s got me naked on the dryer while he’s still dressed, although his unbuttoned shirt hangs open, revealing his chiseled chest.

His mouth on mine, Harrison sinks his fingers inside me while the dryer shakes and hums. Finding that spot that makes me lose control, he doesn’t notice the little bundle that fell out of my shirt pocket when I threw it in the wash.