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Heavy footsteps sound down the hall before a hulking figure fills the doorway. Well over six feet and solidly muscular, sporting artful tattoos on his forearms, he practically brushes the top of the doorframe with his head as enters the living room. Long, wavy brown hair reaches past his shoulders, like the mane of a lion. His slightly wild beard does nothing to diminish the hard edges of his striking face. But it's the eyes that snare me–a mesmerizing nebula of gold and green, framed by dark lashes.
His gravelly voice cuts through the tension in the room. "Apologies for my late arrival." His British accent catches me off guard. "I'm Emrys. Kat's boyfriend."
Emrys. Even his name is intriguing, carrying a tone of danger and excitement. He moves towards me with the powerful grace of a jungle cat and I'm enveloped in his scent–earthy and primal. His massive frame practically shoves both Wilder and Wyatt away from me with ease, parting them like the red sea, before pulling me off my feet and slamming his lips over mine.
The kiss is a sudden, jarring collision, a wild and untamed meeting of lips that sends shockwaves through my body. Emrys' mouth is demanding and insistent, his teeth nipping at my lower lip in a way that's both thrilling and terrifying. His tongue invades my mouth, a primal claim that leaves no room for doubt or hesitation. I'm caught, trapped in his embrace, my body responding with a heat and urgency I've never felt before.
It's a kiss that doesn't ask for permission, doesn't wait for an invitation. It takes, it conquers, it overwhelms.
And when he finally releases me, leaving me breathless and disoriented, the silence that replaces the moment is suffocating. As he lets me slowly slide down his body and back to my feet, all eyes turn to me, awaiting an explanation. I wet my lips, my pulse thundering in my ears.
"I, uh..." I stammer, shrinking under the weight of everyone's stares, panic rising in my chest.
I swear if this was back in the times of old, I’d faint. I really fucking would. Unfortunately, I remain jarringly conscious.
Annabelle is practically vibrating with joy and amusement at my mother’s side–who is too busy gaping at me wordlessly to notice. But instead of being able to enjoy such a rare and momentous moment as my mother being at a loss for words, I’m stuck shitting bricks at the center of everyone’s attention.
Think, Kat! I scold myself, scrambling for any plausible explanation. But the hope for coherent thought has long since abandoned me.
I’m so fucked.
Chapter 6
The deafening silence lingers as all eyes remain locked on me, awaiting an explanation I'm unable to provide. My mother's face is frozen in polite bewilderment, no doubt fighting off a conniption of epic proportions. Annabelle looks fit to burst, her shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. She's enjoying this way too much. I might just kill her.
Meanwhile, the three boyfriends are sizing each other up like wild animals about to battle for territory, overwhelming testosterone thick in the air.
Wyatt's refined politeness has vanished, replaced by a predatory stillness. His eyes bore into Emrys’ with cool calculation.
And Emrys...he oozes casual dominance, utterly unbothered by the tension. His massive arms cross over his chest as he meets Wyatt's stare head-on. The two size each other up like prizefighters.
Wilder seems torn between amusement and indignation at having his spotlight stolen. His fingers tap restlessly on his thighs, energy coiled tight beneath his easygoing charm as he somehow musters a casual stance leaning against a wall. His gaze eventually slides to me, a glint of humor lighting up and amplifying the already electric blue color. He winks, and heat floods my cheeks and I bite my lip, looking away quickly.
"Well!" My mother's too-bright–and obviously shaking–voice shatters the moment. "I need to- I’m going to make some tea." And she jerks on her heels and practically flees the room, selfishly stealing away my only possible escape as all eyes swing back to me.
Annabelle's eyes dance with glee at my barely concealed look of horror. “I’d love to spill the tea. I mean, have some tea.” She cackles as she too spins on her heels and follows Mom out of the living room. That little snake is enjoying every second of my suffering. Payback will be sweet.
A tense silence fills the room as the three men regard me expectantly. But I'll be damned if I let this absurd situation fluster me any further. Planting my hands on my hips, I fix each suitor with an icy stare. "Alright gentlemen. Someone better start talking and explain what the hell is happening here. I’m assuming you’re all from Book-A-Boyfriend.”
Wilder's lips quirk with amusement, his blue eyes dancing. "Yes ma'am."
Wyatt blinks, momentarily taken aback by my sudden shift in gears. It takes him a second before he straightens his tie, a look of respect sliding over his features, and he gives me a single nod.
Fighting the urge to preen under his approving stare, my eyes flick to Emrys, and I choke on air when I catch his reaction. His golden-green eyes are ablaze at my show of fire, a wolfish grin cutting his rugged features in half. He crosses his massive arms, muscles bulging as his gaze flicks over me as if seeing me in a new light. His animalistic kiss flashes in my mind at a rapid, stomach-churning pace and I quickly look away.
Nope. Not today, Satan.
I redirect my attention back to Wilder–the safest of the three. I hope. "You first, cowboy. Spill it."
Wilder pushes off the wall, his fit frame moving with a casual grace I would have to sell my soul to ever even try to replicate. "Well darling, seems there's been a mighty big misunderstanding. We all got requests for a Miss Kathryn Sharpe." His smooth drawl and captivating gaze has me struggling to stay focused.
Wyatt stiffens, his professional veneer re-establishing itself. "Indeed. It appears Book-A-Boyfriend had a system error resulting in your profile being sent to each of us simultaneously."
Emrys simply grunts in response.
I struggle to rein in my scattered thoughts. Three booked boyfriends meant triple the bill for services I didn't request. While I can afford it, the chaos offends my sensibilities.
I tap my foot, pointing a finger at each of them in warning as I pull out my phone. "You three don't move a single well-defined muscle."
