Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“It sure is, sweetheart,” I lick my lips hungrily.
We gather around the outside table. The muffins are warm, and they scent the air with the sweetness of vanilla, cinnamon, and apple. The plates are piled high with grilled vegetables and thick-sliced steak. The woodsmoke curls through twilight, whipped away by a burst of fall-scented breeze.
Wine glasses wait to be refilled.
“Where did you go?” Scarlet asks Finn. “Leaving the hard work to the rest of us and turning up when it's ready for eating.”
“Last-minute meeting about lumber,” he says, using his fork to stab the top steak. It drips juice, and my mouth waters.
“In the forest?”
“Is there a better place to talk about wood?”
She blinks. “I guess not.” But her gaze trails him, cataloging all the signs that might contradict his far-fetched tale. The leaf poking from the neck of his undershirt catches my eye, and I snort, but I don't brush it away. No point in drawing attention to it.
Nixon reaches for Scarlet's hand across the table, his thumb dragging along her pulse point; he kisses her temple when she smiles back, soft as a promise. Finn and I exchange a look, tension humming. Memories of last night and her release flood my mind, and I'm so eager to get through this part of the evening that I almost knock over my wine in my haste to assemble a plate of food.
The flush in Scarlet's cheeks intensifies as she eats and drinks, and a light sheen forms on her skin. Is she as excited as we are? Her scent intensifies, and Nixon's nostrils flare. When he closes his eyes, tension bunching his shoulders, I clap him on the back to jolt him from his lust-soaked fantasies.
Scarlet washes down the last of her wine with a slow grace and then glances between us. I lean forward and inhale her sweet, aroused scent, then ask her in a voice that's as low as the embers in the firepit. “You okay?”
She nods, breathing deeper. Alcohol, heat, and lust swirl inside her, releasing a steadily increasing heady perfume that tantalizes us all. The forest around us seems to draw closer. We've built this moment carefully, and there's no turning back.
This is a ritual as old as time.
We will claim her, but will it be tonight?
14
SCARLET
Even as my hands slip into the sudsy warmth of dishwater, scrubbing away sauce and char from our plates, my thoughts are far from the kitchen sink. They’re focused on the subtle brush of Nixon’s fingertips along my collar last night, and in the way the evening’s wine has made me soft and pliable. They're anchored in the quiet masculinity these men carry so naturally and the way it makes me want to be soft enough to bend to their desires.
Reed’s casual confidence hums in my chest, and Finn’s earlier shy pride makes my skin prickle from the inside out. Nixon’s solid, calm presence and the way he took me apart like he knew my body already, vibrates inside me.
I breathe evenly, despite my heart pounding like I’ve sprinted through the forest. Even when I feel so small between them, the thought of being lost in their arms is one of safety, like I’ve always belonged here.
My mom’s voice echoes in my head. Men know how to get women to spread their legs. They know how to take from you, especially when they’re handsome. She has a warning for everything, but strangers and men are at the top of her hit list.
Nixon, Reed, and Finn aren’t strangers anymore. I know what books they like; Reed is partial to comedic sci-fi, Nixon to history, and Finn to artists’ biographies. I know that they’re new to the area and don’t have any family living nearby. I know that Finn likes country music, and Reed prefers seventies Rock. Nixon is more of a classical man because he finds lyrics distracting.
Slowly but surely, I’m creating a layered picture of them that tells me it’s safe to lower my guard.
I push aside questions about the huge wolf-dog and the strangeness of Finn’s sudden disappearance into the woods.
They move around me as we finish the dishes, and my head spins with a torrent of fantasies. Three strong, handsome men, their hands working over my body with those rough, callused palms, sliding up my thighs, cupping me, and teasing me. Their pretty eyes are watching everything. I can almost taste the heat and salt of their skin, hear Reed’s soft chuckle, Finn’s reassurances, and Nixon’s orders. I pinch my wrist to jar me back to reality, but the hum of arousal doesn’t leave me. I keep scrubbing, but my mind is already counting to what comes next.
Reed settles beside me at the countertop, his arm brushing mine, and the sudden warmth sends a flood of yearning through me. He pours another glass of wine without a word, sliding it into my hand, his lids heavy, and I brace, wanting him to touch me. The wine is cold on my lips, sweet on my tongue, and the muscular press of his thigh against mine subtly shifts us from friendliness to intimacy.