Page 32 of Legacy Elite

Properly quiet. Nobody in the corridor. Nobody downstairs. The fire ticking. Rain on the long windows.

For the first time since April, it's the three of us in a room with a door that closes.

Torres is on the arm of the couch with the ice in his hand.

Luke has gone still.

Nobody says anything for a second, and I can feel both of them. Not words, not pictures, nothing like that. Just the two of them wanting, running underneath my own wanting, close enough that I genuinely cannot tell which part of this is mine.

"So," Torres says.

"So," Luke says.

"Okay," I say. "If one of you doesn't touch me in the next ten seconds I'm going to lose my entire mind."

Torres puts the ice down on the table.

"Four months," he says.

"Too fucking long," I agree.

"Bed," Luke says, taking off the coat. "She's got injuries."

"I’m fine," I say, "I don't have a hip replacement—"

Torres picks me up.

Not slung, not carried — he just stands, and lifts, and I get my legs around his waist and my hands in his hair and my mouth on his, and it's months of a phone against my ear turning into nothing at all for the second time in two days.

He kisses me and his hand spreads out under me. He walks us into the bedroom without once letting go of my mouth, and I hear the door click behind us, which means Luke is already there.

Torres sets me down at the end of the bed.

Luke's hands come from behind, sliding under the hem of my shirt, flat on my stomach, and he puts his mouth against the side of my neck.

"You fought well today," he says, into my skin.

And Luke gets my shirt off over my head.

Torres kneels.

Just goes down onto his knees on the rug in front of me and starts undoing my pants with his eyes on my face, and Luke's hands come up my ribs, careful on the left side, and take my breasts, and I stop having a plan for the evening.

The jeans go. Everything under them goes.

"Hold her," Torres says.

"I've got her."

He puts my leg over his shoulder.

And then his mouth is on me and I make a sound I would be embarrassed about if I had anything left to be embarrassed with.

Torres licks into me like he's been thinking about it forever. Flat of his tongue, then the point of it, then his whole mouth, one hand hard on my inner thigh and the other going up to grip my hip. He's not careful. He's not slow. He's making noise about it, and every one of those noises goes straight up through me.

Luke's got my back against his chest, holding all my weight so my knees can do what they want, and his mouth is at my ear.

"He called me once. July." His thumb rolls over my nipple and I jerk. "Ten minutes. Nine of them were about you."