Alphas Like Us (Like Us 3)

I exhale a controlled breath and try not to tense. My pulse beats harder, body stirring.

He retracts his hand, and a second later, I feel greater pressure against my ass. My fingers dig into the dresser.

“You’re still ridiculously tight,” Farrow exhales. “Hold on.” He pushes in a little bit, then out. Inching his way inside of me. My body reacts to his kindness more like teasing, and I’m getting worked up again—

Footsteps.

I hear footsteps. Racing up the staircase. To this attic.

Farrow hears. But the door should be locked…it’s not.

It’s not locked.

Farrow is closer, and he pulls out completely and in two strides, he reaches the destination. He flips the lock as soon as the knob jingles and knuckles rap the wood.

“Moffy!”

That’s my little sister.

Farrow and I exchange a look, our eyes widened at each other. Yeah, we just dodged what would’ve been the most awkward moment of both our lives.

“Moffy!” she calls again, sounding a bit panicked.

“Just a sec!” We’re in a mad dash to clean up. I throw a towel at Farrow. He wipes up the cum that drips down his leg, and I rub my hands and body with another cloth. Next, I struggle to put on underwear and new jeans.

Somehow Farrow beats me at getting clothed. His boxer-briefs and pants are on, and he even pulls a black Studio 9 shirt over his head.

“Come here,” he whispers.

I relinquish my fight with my jean’s button. And his fingers effortlessly fish my button through the hole.

Farrow tries to fix my disheveled hair, but I’ve already accepted the fact that she’ll know we were fucking.

I move his hand and point out, “It smells like sex in here.”

“It does,” he says easily. “I’m assuming you have a plan, wolf scout.”

I do. “I’m not letting her past the doorway.” I’m pretty sure our lube is in plain sight, and the sheets are twisted and knotted like we’ve wrestle-fucked for hours.

Farrow nods. “Okay.”

And just as she calls my name again, I unlock and swing the door open.

I solidify. “Are you okay?” I ask immediately.

Luna doesn’t look like Luna. Her light brown hair is pulled into a pin-straight pony. No marker streaks, no neon green makeup or star stickers on her cheeks. Black mascaraed lashes shade her amber eyes, and I realize she removed her earrings and tongue piercing.

She’s wearing a pink sundress—Jesus, I’ve never seen my sister wear a pink sundress.

“Uh-huh,” Luna nods, and I step onto the third-floor landing where she stands. It’s a small space before the stairs drop.

Farrow leans his shoulder on the doorframe and cracks the door behind him. Shutting out her view of our bedroom.

Our bedroom.

Never gets old.

I’d almost-maybe smile but I’m dealing with my eighteen-year-old sister who’s been body-snatched. Possibly by aliens. Maybe this is a bizarre role-playing theater thing—I don’t know.

I’m concerned. In case you weren’t aware.

“Hi, Farrow.” Luna throws up a hand in greeting.

“Hey, Luna.” Farrow skims her in a quick sweep, brows spiking. “What’s with the new look?”

Luna tugs at the hem of her dress like it’s uncomfortable. “Just…you know, thought I’d try something out.” She shrugs; a soft smile appearing as she looks at our unkempt hair and clothes. “Sorry to disturb your date night.”

Farrow smiles wide and loosely crosses his arms.

“It’s okay,” I tell my sister, just happy she’s not in serious trouble. “What do you need?”

Luna fixes the spaghetti strap of her dress. “A condom.”

I process. At a snail’s pace. My brain has short-circuited.

Farrow is turned towards me, full-on entertained. Wanting to see how I’ll handle this.

I prepare for a lot of situations. But I can honestly say I did not prepare for my sister to ask me for a condom. That’s on me. She’s living with me now, and I should’ve known. Because she’s not a little kid anymore, and when I left home, she was only fourteen. Four years later, and yeah, things change.

People change.

I’ve been starting to realize that.

Just as I go to respond, she adds, “I know that you know that I have a boyfriend.”

“You know?” My brows furrow. Farrow told me what security discussed, and I wanted to wait for Luna to tell me herself.

“Quinn felt guilty and spilled everything he said to SFO,” she explains. “I didn’t care that he said anything…except I really don’t want Mom and Dad to know until me and Andrew are serious, serious. We’re still in that middle phase, you know?”

I don’t know about middle phases.

I don’t know what the fuck that means.

Farrow nods. “Make sure you’re on the same page with this guy. Middle phases can be tricky.”

Luna smiles. “Yeah, I will.”

I glance at Farrow. I’m glad he has experience in this and can help my sister when I can’t. I don’t know…it feels right. Like this is how life is supposed to be.

“Andrew’s coming over?” I ask Luna. “Or is he already here?”

“He’s coming here in a bit.” She bobs her head. “So? Condom?”

I adjust my sling on my bare chest, the material cutting into my shoulder. “Didn’t Mom take you to get birth control?”

“I want to be extra prepared.” She looks between us. “I don’t want another scare, okay?”

Farrow nods. “Fair enough.” He tips his head to me. “We don’t have any condoms that this guy can use.” That realization dawns on me, too.

Luna scrunches her brows. “Why not?”

“JANE!” I call down the stairwell.

Farrow taps the doorframe, considering withholding the truth, but he tells her honestly, “The probability that this guy is the same size as us is low. And you’re not going to want the condom to slip off.”

“Aren’t there just three condom sizes?” Luna asks, and as Jane ascends the stairs in a purple tutu and knit sweater, cupping a mug of coffee, my sister repeats the question,

“Jane, aren’t there just three condom sizes?”

Janie smiles brightly at me like I’m dealing with the most curious, intriguing familial dilemma that’s occurred in the past 24 hours. We would both prefer a condom crisis over any of our siblings or cousins being emotionally or physically hurt.

“Ma soeur a besoin d'un préservatif,” I say to Jane. “Le jour est venu.” My sister needs a condom. The day has come.

Three stairs below, Jane props her hip on the wall. “Ils grandissent si vite.” They grow up so fast.

We’re the oldest of these families, and everyone just seems young to us. I can’t change that.

Jane answers my sister in a breezy voice. “There’s a great and terrible variety, but the main sizes are small, regular, and large. How can I help…?” She trails off, smile fading at Luna’s odd appearance. But Jane tries not to draw attention to it.

Luna steps down a stair. “I need one.”

“More than one,” I tell Jane. “Her boyfriend is coming over.”

“I have every size,” Jane notes, sipping her coffee. “I’ll give you all of them.”

All of them? I know why, and my face falls. “Janie.”

“Cobalt,” Farrow says with the same tough concern.

This is about Nate, the Asshole With Benefits that stalked me for a while. He wanted to hurt me, and he ended up mostly hurting my best friend…and my boyfriend, who can’t shake that night. And even Thatcher Moretti, whose guilt lingers.

It’s ironic.

Because hurting Jane and Farrow is a direct shot to my heart. So really, that asshole got what he wanted.

Jane pries a piece of frizzy hair off her pink lips and only looks at me. “I have no use for condoms when there’s no dick in the world, small, regular or large, that I’d trust to enter my vagina.”

I shake my head. “You could, eventually—”

“These condoms will expire by then.” Jane raises her mug. “So let them not go to waste, Moffy. They should be used by people who can have glorious and beautiful sex.”

While I’ve been basking in a newfound world of sex without compromise or fear, my best friend has taken five million steps backward because of this fucking asshole. And I want her to be safe and feel loved and free.