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)
Across the room, Nixon leans against the far wall, arms crossed, watching us. Finn stands near the sink, running a dish towel through his hands, his expression gentler, but no less attentive. They’re both quiet, but their eyes are on us like heat on my skin. It should make me self-conscious. Instead, it sharpens everything.
They like to watch.
I take a long gulp, and as I set the glass on the counter, Reed reaches for my hand, his fingertips grazing my skin with a careful boldness that sends a tremor up my arm. “You okay?”
I nod, but words refuse to come. My throat tightens, my mouth suddenly bone-dry. He watches me with that slow, knowing smile, that peels back layers I didn’t know I was hiding behind. Then, without breaking eye contact, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses each knuckle, one by one, warming them with his mouth.
A tremor shivers down my spine. My skin tingles, tightening with heat. My stomach coils, low and deep, and my thighs clench of their own accord. I’m not thinking anymore, just feeling. Every nerve ending sparks to life, drawn to him like he’s gravity, and I’m already falling.
Nixon’s gaze sharpens and Finn’s breath catches, but I don’t stop. I don’t want to.
All of this is reckless, but how can it be wrong when it feels so right?
A holiday fling, they’d probably call it. What’s there to lose when there’s so much pleasure to be gained? The idea of forgetting my real life for one night, of setting down the weight of tomorrow and all the ways I don’t know how to shape it, is like a drug I can’t resist.
Reed leads me from the kitchen and onto the sofa. Nixon and Finn follow, sitting in positions around us where they have a clear view.
A shiver runs over my scalp and tickles my clit.
Reed plays with my hair first, twirling a red tendril around his finger like he’s discovered fire and can’t decide whether to tame it or let it burn. His eyes dance with that teasing glint I’m coming to recognize as all spark and mischief, but there’s fascination there, too. His lips twitch, curving into the kind of smile that shouldn’t be legal on a man this beautiful. The black ink that coils over his shoulder peeks from beneath his shirt.
My breath is sawing out of me, but he doesn’t rush. He just watches me, patiently letting tension build so that when he finally leans in, his mouth hovers above mine, and the air shudders between us. And when our lips meet, slowly and deliberately, I can taste his warm, wicked smile in the kiss, full of promise.
When he brings a hand to the hem of my blouse, there’s a thrill in knowing it’s him; that voice that teased me is now undoing the buttons on my shirt. I tense on a wave of arousal that’s been building all night.
His fingers slip inside, over lace that’s suddenly too tight and too formal, and he snaps my bra open with the sort of light, expert flick that leaves me gasping. His other hand presses firmly against my lower back, pulling me into him until his heart beats against me. My knees tremble, and I clutch the sofa while the other hand drifts to his shoulders, relishing the shift of hardened muscle under his shirt. He’s strong, and every brush of his skin against mine charges the air.
Somewhere behind us, a soft groan weaves through the air as Nixon or Finn loses a little of their quiet control.
They’re watching.
I don’t know which thought excites me more. That all three of them want me, or that they’d watch me when one of them claims me. I slide both hands up under Reed’s shirt and anchor them at the small of his back, tangling my fingers in the waistband of his jeans, able and ready to tug him closer.
His mouth descends to my collarbone, then, along the smooth curve of my neck, and I arch into it, panting as his fingers brush over my waist. There’s an ardor in his mouth that’s slow, hot, and intense, and I let myself sink deeper into him, emptying myself into the moment.
Reed’s hand finds the edge of my blouse again, slipping beneath to cup the curve of my breast. His thumb brushes lightly over my nipple, a teasing, feather-soft circle that sends a pulse straight to my core. I gasp, barely, and lift my gaze, finding Nixon in the low light. He’s watching from across the room, wine glass forgotten in his hand, his eyes locked on mine like a tether. Just… waiting. Like a wolf on the edge of the clearing, patient and sure that the prey will come to him.
If he asked, I would give it all to them.