Page 198 of What We Burn

“Brought reinforcements,” he says quietly.

I stand and slide my arms under Sage, lifting her out of Eli’s lap. She comes willingly, one hand catching the front of my shirt, her face pressing into my neck. Eli lets her go without a word, but his fingers trail after her like separation requires physical effort.

“You want food?” I ask her. “Or I can take you home.”

She shakes her head against my shoulder. Then she pulls back far enough to look at me, gray eyes steady despite the exhaustion carved into every line of her.

“I’d rather have you and Micah. Together.”

The room goes quiet.

Micah sets the tray on the nearest surface, slow and deliberate. “Baby girl.” His voice drops into that register he uses when he’s serious. “You look exhausted. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” She reaches for him. “I need both of you. But be gentle.”

I carry her to the padded bench and sit her on the edge. Micah kneels in front of her, his hands careful and tender at once. He checks her pupils. Turns her face toward the light to examine the bruise blooming at her temple. Runs his thumbs along her jaw, her throat, careful of the collar. Lifts her hands and inspects her knuckles one by one.

“Headache?” he murmurs.

“Small one.”

“Dizziness? Nausea?”

“Just tired.” She leans in and kisses him, soft and slow, her fingers sliding into his curls. “Stop fussing and kiss me properly.”

He laughs against her mouth and obliges.

Behind me, Knox rises from the floor and settles onto the bench against the wall, pulling Eli down beside him. “Go ahead,” Knox rumbles. “We’re happy to watch.”

“Very happy,” Eli agrees, a ghost of his usual dryness returning.

I shed my jacket and strip out of the rest of my clothes, and the last few hours go on the floor with them. Then I undress her—blanket first, then the black dress—until she’s bare except for the collar. Marked, exhausted, still reaching for us. I have to stand there a second before I trust my hands.

Micah guides her carefully onto the bench, spreads her thighs over his shoulders, and lowers his mouth to her. No teasing buildup—he reads her exhaustion and gives her exactly what she asked for. Her head falls back, fingers finding his curls, and the sound she makes is wrecked and gorgeous.

I stand beside them, working myself slowly, watching Micah take her apart with that patient, devastating tongue. The room is quiet except for her breathing and the wet, obscene sounds of his mouth.

“That’s it, baby girl,” he murmurs against her. “Give it to me.”

She comes with her whole body arching off the bench, his name breaking apart on her ruined voice. He doesn’t stop until she pushes at his head, trembling, laughing breathlessly.

Micah lifts his head, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, and kisses her once before standing to strip. He lies back on the padded surface and reaches for her.

My cue.

The playrooms are stocked. I find lube in the drawer beneath the bench as Micah pulls her over him. She sinks onto his cock with a groan that goes straight through me.

“Holden.” She looks over her shoulder. Invitation. Demand.

I warm the lube between my fingers before touching her. One finger, then two, pausing between each until the tension leaves her body and she begins pressing back into my hand. Micah stays still beneath her, kissing her throat and murmuring against her skin while I take my time.

“Still want both of us?” I ask.

She looks over her shoulder. “Yes.”

I line myself up and ease inside her slowly. Her fingers tighten against Micah’s chest, but she keeps pushing back until all three of us are fitted together.

Nobody moves at first.