Except a hand on his shoulder stopped that.
“Go and clean yourself up, Beau.”
“She needs aftercare,” Beau snapped, staring up at his brother.
“She needed to be taken into this carefully, to choose a safe word when she was clear of mind and conscious of her choices. She needed to give explicit permission to everything you just did, and I’m guessing you didn’t do any of those things.”
Tobias waited for Beau to reply, but he didn’t need to. Beau’s mulish expression told the entire story.
“As I feared. I’ll perform aftercare. You can go and clean yourself up.”
It was as Beau stood up that I saw the massive wet spot on his pants, which was one part me and three parts him, I was guessing. He didn’t leave easily, shooting his brother a dark look, but he went.
Which left me feeling very alone.
I wasn’t sure when the shivers started, but they felt like the price I was forced to pay for all of this pleasure, one I hadn’t been aware I’d have to pay until it hit me. My muscles, all limp and languid moments ago, locked tight and shuddered, feeling like they’d jump right off my bones, when he appeared. First, there was a blanket, mink soft and wrapped around me, growing tighter and tighter when he saw I was shivering.
“Shit… That little bastard.”
I shrank away from those harsh words, even as they were uttered in a soft tone. He put a bottle of water down onto the coffee table, and I watched the condensation slide down the sides before he settled down next to me. Then I was picked up like I was no more than a child and tucked in close to his body.
“Your nervous system is still adjusting,” he told me in the soft, soothing tones one would use with a child. “Beau just pushed it to one of its limits, and now its pushing back. Don’t fret, omega.” At his words, I became dimly aware of the little sounds of distress I was making. “I’ve got you. I’ll keep holding you until you even out again and come back to yourself.”
Then I heard a strange sound, somewhat strangled at first, then rusty, before it evened out. He was purring for me.
Tobias Lockwood was purring for me.
28
Beau had drowned me in a sea of pleasure, so it was rude shock to come out of that. Still, Tobias brought me back up to the surface in a series of well orchestrated, careful movements. First, he held me close, tucked up against chest, filling my nose with his scent, which seemed to be a variation of the woody smell they all shared. Tobias’ was much darker, containing almost a green, mossy accent, but it was the pressure that did it, bringing my awareness back to all the points he held me and all the points of my body he didn’t, reminding me that I had one and bringing me back into it. That must’ve sounded strange, but while Beau was working to tear every possible response from me, it had thrown me up, up into this rarefied place where everything was pleasure and there was nothing else. Still, what goes up, must come down. I felt it then—the aches in my joints from holding strange positions, the dull throb between my legs, reminding me of just how well I’d been used.
“Oh god…” Just a little whisper escaped my lips as it all came flashing back, but without the haze of…whatever the fuck had made me think getting off in my boss’ office was a good idea. What the hell had I been thinking? I’d come in here, wanting to make a difference, and—
“No.”
My eyes jerked up. Tobias’ voice was perilously close to an alpha bark, but not yet. He stared down the line of his body at me, seeming to see everything.
“No shame, no regret. My brother made you feel very good, didn’t he?” I nodded quickly. No matter the wall of shame I was hitting right now, that remained true, somehow taking away and intensifying that remembered pleasure. “He’ll do that any time you get close to him. He can’t seem to help himself. He gets uncomfortable when faced with negative emotions, wanting to lift people up and out of that, make them feel good. That’s all this was. Beau administered emotional first aid in the only way he really knows how, so no regrets, please.”
I wanted to give him that more than my next breath but…feeling came and kept on coming. My throat worked, my lungs filling with air, ready to talk, to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. He reached down, placing one elegant finger against my lips—a finger that smelled earthy and musky, of him.
“I will listen until you have nothing more to say, but not yet, not now. Just rest, omega. Beau did his best to please you beyond measure, but there is still a comedown to endure. Just press yourself close to me and let me carry you through that.”
I moved slowly, the invitation clear, and still, I was hesitant. I pushed my hand under his jacket, feeling it smooth over his crisp button-up as if it belonged to someone else, but it was my hand that pressed against hot, firm flesh as he unbuttoned his shirt, letting me slide my hand into the gap.
“Skin to skin is always best,” he said, sounding endlessly tired, just sitting there for a minute before shifting slightly to grab the water bottle beside him. He cracked the lid above my head, then tipped the bottle against my lips. I swallowed, one long gulp of cold water, then another and another, feeling the chill wash through me, until finally, the bottle was empty. “Good girl.”
His other hand stroked through my hair, pressing me more firmly against his chest as that purr started up again, forcing my eyes closed. For some reason, I felt completely and utterly safe, as long as I heard that sound.
I wokewith a start sometime later—much later, if the position of the sun in the sky seen out of those massive windows was anything to go by. I looked around me groggily, trying to place where, how, why, and in doing so, saw Tobias sitting beside me. Now my rational brain was kicking in again, I jerked back, pulling the blanket off the both of us, my hands fighting to get free of it, then stopping because he slept on, sitting upright, his head resting on one hand. I peered at him, aware that it was rude, that I was encroaching on so many boundaries, but I couldn’t seem to stop. Even in repose, his face was so perfectly remote. My fingers twitched, wanting to trace the severe slope of his cheekbones, to follow the curve of his jaw, but I didn’t. My hand hovered in the space between us, but I held it back until his eyes flicked open.
He didn’t blink blearily or look at me with owlish confusion like a mere human would. Those warm brown eyes took in my hand and where it hung, halfway between me and him, and took it for the offer it apparently was. He grabbed it with his, staring into my eyes and then brushed his lips across my knuckles, like we were in a Regency romance or something.
Right now, I understood why people got all fluttery aboutBridgeton. OK, I wanted to lick every inch of Regé-Jean Page’s nubile body, but there was something else to this. It was such a small gesture, but so much seemed to go into it—the prickle of his stubble contrasting against the softness of his lips, the way they pressed into my skin and then softened again, making me long for another, and the way he stared, reading my every response. Then, shockingly, he smiled.
“You’re feeling better.”
It was statement, not a question, and I was lucky for that because if he’d asked it, so much more would come out. Instead, he set my hand down, then tangled his fingers with mine.