Chapter Forty Seven. 🌶🌶🌶🌶

The steam swirls around us, thick and heavy in the air, but it’s nothing compared to the heat between us. Callum steps forward, slow and deliberate, his gaze locked onto mine. Water drips from his hair, trailing down the sharp angles of his face, his chest—his body that I know so well, but have missed like this.

“Ivy,” he murmurs, voice rough with something deep and aching.

I swallow, my body already responding to the way he says my name. “Yeah?”

His fingers brush against my waist, tentative, testing. “I don’t want to feel like a ghost anymore.”

I place my hands over his, grounding him, grounding us. “You’re not,” I whisper. “You never were.”

His throat bobs, his eyes searching mine like he’s looking for something—reassurance, permission, a reason to keep going. I give it to him the only way I know how. I pull him closer, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that starts soft but quickly deepens.

Callum exhales against my mouth, and I feel the exact moment he lets go—when his hesitation melts into something stronger, something real. His hands tighten on my hips, his grip firm but not demanding, his touch solid.

He’s here.

And I want him to stay.

I press into him, relishing the warmth of his skin against mine, the way he reacts to every touch, every shift of my body. His lips trail along my jaw, down my throat, leaving a path of heat in their wake.

“I missed this,” he murmurs, voice vibrating against my skin.

I nod, barely able to form words. “Me too.”

He pulls back just enough to meet my gaze again, his eyes dark with something I haven’t seen in too long. Want. Need. Life.

“Let me have you,” he breathes.

I shiver, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. “Take me, Callum.”

Something snaps in him at that. His hands move, gripping my thighs as he lifts me effortlessly against the cool tiles. I gasp at the contrast—his heat, the cold of the wall, the firm press of his body against mine.

Callum growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating through me. “Hold on to me.”

I don’t hesitate. My fingers tangle in his damp hair as he claims my mouth again, and then there’s nothing but him—his touch, his breath, his heartbeat pounding in sync with mine.

It’s slow, deliberate, like he’s making sure I feel every moment, like he’s trying to prove something to himself as much as to me. That he’s here. That he’s alive.

And I let him.

When we finally collapse against each other, breathless and spent, Callum holds me close, his arms wrapped around me like he’s afraid to let go.

“I don’t feel lost anymore,” he murmurs against my skin.

I press a kiss to his temple, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on his back. “Good,” I whisper. “Because I need you here.”

He exhales slowly, nodding. “Take me to bed?”

I smile, reaching to turn off the water. “Always.”

As we step out of the shower, we towel off in a comfortable silence, the air between us warm in more ways than one. Callum’s touch lingers in every small movement—the brush of his fingers along my arm, the way he straightens the towel around my shoulders, and the soft squeeze of his hand around mine as we leave the bathroom together.

His room is exactly how I remember it—soft blankets layered over his bed, the scent of all of us clinging to every inch of fabric. It’s his sanctuary, the one place where he’s felt safe since the attack. But today in the light of the morning, there’s something different in his posture as he pulls me into the warmth of it. There’s no hesitation, no distance—just quiet relief.

He wants to be here.

With me.

With us.

I let him pull me down beside him, our limbs tangling naturally. His face buries into the curve of my neck, his breath warm against my skin. There’s something grounding in the way he holds me, something that feels whole again.

“Are you okay?” I murmur, threading my fingers through his damp hair.

His grip on my waist tightens slightly. “Yeah,” he whispers, and for the first time, I believe him. “Better now.”

A soft hum escapes me as I press a lingering kiss to his forehead. “I missed this version of you.”

Callum huffs a quiet laugh, nuzzling closer. “Me too.”

His lips brush against mine—gentle at first, like he’s relearning the taste of me. Then his hands roam, mapping my body like he’s reclaiming something he thought he lost. A shiver rolls down my spine as his mouth trails lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down my neck, my collarbone, my stomach.

“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” I murmur, watching the fire in his gaze.

His lips curl into a warm, teasing smile. “Anything,” he breathes, his voice thick with promise.

Then he grips my hips, pinning me to the mattress.

A gasp slips from my lips as he pulls the towel away from my body, his gaze darkening as he drinks me in. He bites his lip, hunger flashing in his eyes.

“Whatever?” I echo, teasing.

His smile turns mischievous. Then his head dips between my thighs.

Pleasure crashes over me in waves, my body arching under his touch. My fingers thread through his hair as he works me open, slow and thorough, drawing sounds from me that I can’t control.

A soft creak at the doorway makes us both pause.

Callum and I turn at the same time, our eyes meeting Micah’s. He stands just inside the room, looking sweet and uncertain, his lips parted slightly like he’s caught between staying and leaving.

I reach for him instinctively, as I always do.

He smiles, his hesitation melting away as he steps forward. “I was just coming to see if either of you were hungry,” he murmurs, his eyes flicking between us. Then his lips quirk into a smirk. “But I can see you already ate.”

Callum chuckles, propping himself up on his elbows. “Want a taste?”

Micah barely nods before Callum is pulling him in, capturing his lips in a slow, deep kiss.

My body hums, still aching with need, still desperate for more. I shift, thighs pressing together in search of relief, and the sound I make must be louder than I realize—because suddenly, two pairs of eyes snap toward me.

And then I’m being pounced on.

Micah’s mouth finds my neck, his lips soft but insistent as I gasp under his touch. My fingers trail down his chest, slipping beneath the waistband of his pajama pants, feeling him already hard beneath my touch. He lets out a breathy moan, hips stuttering into my hand.

I press my neck against his lips, silently begging.

“Bite me,” I whisper.

He doesn’t. Instead, he pulls back, his eyes blown wide with lust.

Behind him, Callum watches, pouring lube over his fingers, his cock hard and flushed. He presses a slicked finger inside Micah, making him cry out and grind against me, his rhythm growing desperate and unsteady.

I shudder, overwhelmed by the heat, the hands, the mouths, the way I’m stretched between them.

Micah thrusts into me with a low groan, his forehead pressed against mine, while Callum moves behind him, stretching him open, teasing, taking his time.

Then, finally, Callum pushes inside him.

Micah gasps, his body trembling biting the pillow under me as Callum's mouth meets mine in a blinding kiss.

Callum sets the pace. Callum is in control, he takes it over and over again and we let him.

It's our pleasure to help him after all.

By the time night rolls back around the Alphas find us, moved in to Micahs nest, movie playing pop corn and snacks strewn across the bed and our mouths all over each other.

We didn't get much sleep that night either.