Page 63 of What We Become

“I’m here, Knox.”

He kisses me then, deep and slow, and I keep rocking against him as the pleasure coils low and tight. His thumb finds my clit and circles once, twice, and the rhythm of everything—his mouth, his hand, the thick drag of him—winds me up until I’m gasping against his teeth.

“That’s it.” His voice is pure gravel. “Take it. It’s yours.”

I break with my forehead against his, saying his name into the inch of air between us. The orgasm is different this time—deeper, rolling up from under all the damage, and it doesn’t stop. Wave after wave while he holds me through it, murmuring things I can barely catch. Good. I’ve got you. There you are.

Then his whole body goes rigid beneath me. He groans, low and helpless, face pressed into my neck, and I feel him pulse inside me as he finally lets go—this mountain of a man, shaking apart in my arms because I asked him to stop holding back.

“Fury. Fuck.”

For a long time, neither of us moves.

Eventually he shifts, gentle, and lays us both down, side by side. His hand spans my belly, thumb stroking the one patch of unbruised skin near my navel.

“Hurts anywhere?”

“A little. Worth it.”

“Fury.”

“I’m fine, Knox.” I press my lips to his throat and feel his pulse still hammering. “Better than fine. I’m here. I’m with you.”

Alive.

FIFTEEN

MILO

The kitten monitor has night vision, two-way audio, and—because I have standards—1080p resolution. Which is how, at nine o’clock on our very first night, I’ve just watched Knox and Sage have emotionally devastating sex in high definition.

Let the record show that I had pure intentions. This was just supposed to be a way to make sure our girl keeps breathing through the night without five grown men rotating shifts outside her door like haunted furniture.

The fact that I just watched our girl get worshiped by a man built like a load-bearing wall is simply a byproduct of my own foresight.

They’re beautiful together. That’s the thing about a polycule—sometimes watching your girlfriend with one of her other boyfriends is the single hottest thing in the known universe, and also you feel like a pervert at a very exclusive art film.

“What are you doing?”

Holden’s voice, directly over my left shoulder. I nearly drop the receiver down the back of the sofa.

“Watching my favorite show,” I say, without turning around, because turning around constitutes an admission of guilt.

Plus, he’d see my erection.

And the hand that’s on it.

He comes around the sofa. Looks at the screen. And pauses. One beat longer than a disinterested man would pause. His jaw does that sexy tightening thing as his eyes track Sage lying flushed and boneless beside Knox, Knox’s hand splayed across her stomach.

Then he reaches down and switches it off.

“Not for you.”

“Hey!”

“No.”

“That was a shared resource⁠—”