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Show me everything.
A whistle leaks out of her lungs, another caught breath.
Is that all she wants? To be seen?
She’s so much softer tonight—not gearing up to bite my head off. Letting me in. Her body relaxes into mine, my cock growing more zealous with the increased friction.
Fuck me, I can’t resist this girl. I don’t give a shit what anyone says. Off-limits. I’ve never considered anything to be off-limits to me. I’ll be damned if I start now. I should stretch her out on this counter and feast on her cunt until the whole goddamn house knows where I stand. I bet she tastes sweet. A delicacy.
That thought is halted by the security system beeping, followed by the faint rumble of the garage door. “Pizza’s here. Better drink your coffee.”
She reaches for it with a nod. “Right. Gage probably needs your help.”
I take a swig of my beer as I step away, turning back to face her once I make it to the door. “You’re mine tomorrow, Carver.”
Her throat grapples with a laborious swallow, but she says nothing in response. Only holds her coffee mug with both hands, blinking at me like an innocent, wide-eyed doe over the steam. Jesus, she’s got a good poker face. I’d love to know what she’s thinking. Something tells me she senses that, and I’m the one being manipulated by the silence this round.
Impressive.
But her body told me all I needed to know. She’s just as helpless to this as I am. I meant what I said. I might not fuck her yet, but she’s mine—at least for tomorrow.
Mine to crack open. Mine to have some fun with.
While I’m enchanted by this softer side of her, there’s still that matter of her playing me in the elevator to resolve.
Payback’s a bitch, Ace.
CELESTE
“Nice shirt.” Gage points to the Black Rifle Coffee T-shirt I’m wearing as I walk into their workout room.
It’s impressive for a home gym with an array of weights and machines, but most days, it’s empty at eight in the morning. The guys tend to do their training outside before breakfast. Not that I’ve ever ogled them from the second-story windows. Okay, so maybe I’ve ogled, but they’re all trim and sculpted and built like gods, and I’m a mere mortal. Gawking is a given.
The morning after we went to La Lune Noire, I was awakened by some racket outside. Upon investigation, I found that Wells had them doing calisthenics, dripping wet and holding a log.
And hummina, hummina.
It was like a magic show, an exhibition requiring deep scrutiny in order to reap the full effects. Blink, and you’d miss something mind-altering. Diligent as I am, my eyes were watering from keeping them peeled.
All four of them are kind of insane—the dedication, the perseverance, the stamina. The potent ruggedness. Not something you come across every day. And the way Liam’s T-shirt clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing every damn dip and cut andbulge—let’s just say my workout that day involved breathless aerobics with my vibrator.
But Gage is rarely in the gym at this time, so I’m hit with a wave of discomfort that has me hesitating just inside the entrance.
“I don’t want to intrude. It’s usually empty in here.”
He thrusts his heavily weighted barbell into the air with a grunt, irate veins jumping to the surface of his bronze skin. The man is a beast.
“Not intruding.” He catches my hesitant gape in the mirror before dropping the bar to the floor with a thump.
I’m not sure that’s a glowing invite, but it would be rude to leave now. So, I nod and hurry over to the treadmill, starting the machine and whipping out my phone to watch an episode of Bridgerton. It’s the main reason I don’t run outside. Other than hiking with my brother when I was a kid, I’ve never enjoyed exercising outdoors unless there’s a thrill involved. Even then, Ben called it geocaching and coaxed me with little treasures.
Unlike Ivy, who has a whole entertainment system inside her head at any given moment, I require outside stimulation. My thoughts are of the suffocating nature, so it’s better to strangle the life out of them in a preemptive strike. With a sound defensive strategy rooted in spicy Regency romance.
But before my AirPods are in, Gage’s husky timbre rings through the room. “Where’d you get it?”
Get it?
I follow the set of his gaze, and a blush rushes my cheeks because my chest seems to be the chief focal point. When I glance down, it hits me. Thank God I held my tongue. The T-shirt. I choke down my embarrassment to respond.
