Page 141 of Top Shelf

My chest physically aches.

“Oh,” I whisper.

Lucian sees the exact second I start spiraling emotionally and immediately ruins it on purpose.

“Alright,” he announces loudly. “If everyone’s done having feelings?—”

Ronan groans. “For fuck’s sake.”

“—I’d like to point out that Wren is standing here half naked, covered in paint, and somehow none of us have kissed her properly in at least thirty seconds.”

I laugh so hard I nearly snort.

And then Lucian kisses me. It’s messy. All heat and reckless affection.

Truthfully…it’s perfect.

He tastes faintly like beer from lunch. Paint smears between us as his hands slide over my waist, pulling me flush against him while Silas’s fingers continue tracing idle patterns against my spine.

Ronan watches us for half a second before muttering something deeply unflattering under his breath and joining in.

The next few minutes dissolve into beautiful chaos.

Kissing. Hands everywhere.

Paint transfers onto skin and mouths and clothes until none of us are remotely clean anymore. Lucian keeps making me laugh mid-kiss on purpose. Silas grows steadily bolder everytime I make another soft sound against his mouth. Ronan keeps touching me like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me beneath his hands.

And somewhere between one kiss and the next, I realize something terrifying.

I can suddenly picture this.

Not just the heat. Not just the sex.

This.

The in-between moments.

Domestic chaos.

Shared space.

Laughter echoing through rooms that feel lived in.

I can picture a home…with them.

The realization settles deep in my chest as Lucian suddenly scoops me into his arms.

I squeal, clutching his shoulders. “Lucian!”

“What?” he says innocently. “You said the painting didn’t need to be finished today.”

“You’re getting paint everywhere,” I protest weakly.

Lucian grins wickedly against my throat. “Good thing we were all going to need a shower then.”

My laughter dissolves into a startled gasp when Lucian tosses me onto my bed hard enough to make it bounce beneath me.

He grins wolfishly before climbing on top of me. He has paint smeared across his jaw and chest, looking completely feral in the best possible way.