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“He might.” Dante is watching us both. “But that’s a problem for another day. Tonight I want to know if you’re in, Cruz. Eyes open. You know what she’s carrying. You know what you’re signing up for. We worship her. We don’t push her. We ask, every time, until she trusts that we mean it.”

Cruz nods, slow.

“I’m in.” His thumb strokes my shoulder. “Sweetheart. I’m so fucking in.”

Something in my chest cracks open and warm light spills through.

“There’s more,” Dante says.

Cruz raises an eyebrow.

I find my voice. “Dante said that this could involve Brady and Eli too. Maybe. Eventually. All five of us.”

Cruz drops his head back against the couch and groans, and his free hand goes to the front of his sweats and presses down.

“Fuck. Fuck. My dick is harder than a rock right now. You know that? All five of us, the team, fucking each other? That would be so damn good. Sweetheart, you’re trying to kill me.”

I laugh. It surprises me, a real one, scraped out of my throat.

“I want it.” My cheeks burn. “I want them too. The idea of it…”

“Yeah?” Cruz turns his head, a dangerous grin on his lips. “You like that, sweetheart? Knowing four of us would line up just to make you feel good?”

I bite my lip and nod.

“Christ alive.” He shifts on the couch and I can see the shape of him pushing up against the cotton. “Dante. What are we doing about this? Right now. Because I’m not going home like this.”

Dante stands. The lamp light catches every line of him, the tattoos winding down his ribs, the dark trail below his navel.

“Bedroom. Both of you.”

Cruz is up before I am, hauling me with him, his arm still locked around my shoulders.

“Wait.” I plant my feet. They both stop. “I want to watch.”

Two pairs of eyes land on me.

“You want to watch,” Dante repeats, careful.

“You two.” I can’t believe I’m saying it. My pulse is in my throat. “I want to see you two first. Before anything else. I want to watch.”

Cruz’s grin spreads wide and filthy.

“Sweetheart. You’re as kinky as me. Such a perfect fucking girl.”

He cups my face in those huge hands and kisses me, soft, then less soft, his stubble scraping my chin. When he pulls back I’m dizzy.

“Sit,” Dante tells me, gesturing at the bed when we get to the doorway. “Make yourself comfortable. Touch whatever you want, baby. Including yourself.”

I climb up onto the bed, kicking my shoes off, folding my legs underneath me. My jeans feel suddenly unbearable. I unbutton them and push them down, leaving my underwear. The cotton’s already damp.

Cruz watches me like I’m his new favorite meal.

Then Dante grabs the back of his neck and pulls him in.

They kiss standing at the foot of the bed and it’s nothing like what I imagined. Cruz is bigger, broader, but Dante is the one steering. His hand on Cruz’s jaw, his other on Cruz’s hip, walking him backward half a step then pulling him in again. Cruz makes a sound low in his throat that I feel between my legs.

I slip my hand inside my underwear.