Chapter 270

“You can wear it while your other things are at the cleaners,” Beau says.

“Beau.” I have so many questions. One, why in the world did he have this gift, ready and waiting, and thought to bring it with him to my parents’ house? Two, in what universe does he think that skimpy lace and string ensemble is going to be comfortable enough to wear?

He continues to hold up the lingerie as if proud of himself and his gift.

It is sexy, and I’m sure I would feel sexy in it. But… this hardly seems like the time.

Plus, “I don’t know, Beau. That isn’t the kind of underwear women usually wear for a long time.”

Beau’s smirk adds teeth, making him look positively sinful. “Oh, I’m counting on that.”

Oh my Gods! What an absolute rake! I roll my eyes as I scramble to my feet. I snatch the lingerie out of his hands and then point at the door.

“Get out!”

He gives me a wink and a salute. “I’ll be seeing you later.” It’s unclear if he says that to me or the lingerie. I point at the door more forcefully. He laughs as he leaves. When he’s gone, I slam the door closed behind him for good measure.

That cad. That lecherous, attractive-as-sin devil.

And my absolutely treacherous body for being fully on board with all he was saying. My nipples are peaked in my bra. My panties are getting a bit damp.

I sigh. I’m really my own worst enemy here. The brothers are horny fiends, but frankly, so am I. They’re hot for me. I’m hot for them. It’s a great big mess.

I’m a mess.

I take the lingerie to one of the empty drawers in my room and tuck it inside, along with the one pair of clean socks that I managed to salvage.

Then I scoop up a big pile of my dirtied clothes and head downstairs to the garage where the washer and drier are. I don’t see anyone on my path, though I can hear Neil and Archer planning something, Wyatt’s too-loud music pulsing through the closed door to his room, and Mom still cooing at Mia in the living room.

As I enter the garage, I startle to realize someone is already there, but relax when I realize it’s just Steven. He’s entirely focused on his work. Standing on a step-ladder, he’s setting up some kind of sensor on the top of the garage door.

He doesn’t seem to notice me, so I take my clothes to the washer and put in the first load. I add soap and then start the cycle. When the washer kicks on, water flooding in, Steven finally looks over, noticing me.

“Chloe.” He quickly finishes whatever he was doing and descends the step ladder. Leaving his tools on the ladder, he starts to cross the room to me. I meet him halfway.

“Good,” Steven says. “Your parents already have a security system installed, so I’m just adding onto it. I’m tapping in, so if we see my father or his associates on the cameras at any point, we can trigger the alarm and bring the police and fire department to the door.”

“That won’t stop the Alpha King from hurting them, though,” I say.

“He won’t want to do so in front of witnesses,” Steven says. “And in the time it will take to get rid of them, we will be able to get here and provide backup.”

It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s better than nothing.

“Ideally, I’d like to fit the house with protective weapons,” Steven says. He frowns and his eyes drop to the floor. “But those aren’t ready yet.”

Likely, he sees this as another failure on his part. I know hard he is torturing himself over what happened to my penthouse. He has to know I don’t blame him for that, right?

I better make sure.

I inch closer to him and place my hand on his arm. He looks up at me.

“I’m okay,” I tell him. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”

He shakes his head. “I should have done better, Chloe. If you had been there when –”

“I wasn’t. I’m safe.”

He refuses to listen. “I need to do better.”

Of all of the brothers, I suspect Steven might be the hardest on himself. He expects the most from himself. He’s the smart one, the tech and science genius. Everyone looks to him and relies on him to solutions to so many kinds of different problems.

When Neil got the silver, we turned to Steven. When my penthouse needed a security system, we turned to Steven. Those two things are so different, but he had answers to both!

He’s a genius, through and through. And he believes it too. It must be so difficult to have been outmaneuvered, when he likely never has before.

I don’t want him to beat himself up. Failure is a part of growth. But I recognize he won’t listen to me. He’ll beat himself up, he’ll push himself forward. Healthy or not, that’s how he’s going to cope.

The only thing I can do is stand beside him while he weathers this internal storm.

At least he has since stopped apologizing to me.

I don’t know what else to do, so I rub my hand up and down his arm supportively.

He looks at it, then traces his gaze up the length of my arm to my shoulder, and then… to my neck.

His eyes darken again, just like they did in the car, the first time he saw the three distinctive marks left on my skin.

My increased healing ability mean the marks are already likely fading, but Steven glares at them with the same ferocity as if they were fresh.

“Steven,” I whisper. The air feels charged now, so much different than it had only a few seconds ago. Everything is electric, prickling lightly at my skin. My body is warming from the inside out.

My relationship with Steven is the most confusing. With the others, we have sex, we enjoy it, that’s that. Steven is waiting for his forever. He wants sex with love. He can never love me so we are at a standstill.

But that doesn’t keep him from wanting me, or from me wanting him. It rather erects a wall in the space between us, keeping us from crossing too many lines. The lines are blurry though.

He licks his lips, and I wish I could kiss him. But if we kiss, we might want more. That’s a bad idea right now for a lot of reasons.

Maybe instead… we can find some middle ground. Seeing me marked by other Alpha males must be making his wolf as jealous as the other brothers’ have been. But Steven is doing so well at holding himself back.

What if he didn’t have to?

“Steven,” I say again, this time with a question in my tone.

“Mm?” he hums. His gaze is latched to my neck, unlikely to move.

“Do you want to leave a mark on me?” I ask.

“Mm,” he hums again, this time in the affirmative. I suppose I already knew the answer. It’s in every inch of his body language. Every one of his limbs and muscles seems flexed toward me.

“Then,” I say, and lick my own lips. “Why don’t you.”