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“It’s about time you got home!” a painfully familiar voice called from down the hall. “Dinner’s almost ready.” We ventured further into the house. “I’m making stir—” Bellamy turned from where he was standing at the stove, “—fry.”

A metal spatula hung limp from one hand while he swallowed and dragged the other through his tussled hair. He blinked, his gaze flicking between Quinn and me like he wasn’t sure what he was seeing. My chest flooded with warmth, suddenly so aware of the heartstring between us that I’d been trying to ignore. Now that I saw him again, I couldn’t understand how I went a few days without him, let alone a lifetime.

“Did I miss mac and cheese night?” I joked, the words feeling tight in my throat. I sensed Quinn continue deeper into the house, leaving me with his brother.

The spatula clattered back into the wok on the stovetop, and Bellamy was halfway to me before he caught himself, stuttering to a stop. I made up the distance and fell into him. His arms wound around my waist, lifting me just enough so he could bury his face in the crook of my neck. He held me tight and breathed deep.

Everything melted away. The fear from this afternoon. The anxiety around Quinn. When I was in Bellamy’s arms, none of it mattered.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the sound tickling my skin. “I’m so sorry. I was such an idiot.”

Tears pricked my eyes. “You were.” He tensed, and I continued, “But I was a brat too for not talking to you about it.” He squeezed me a little tighter, and after another long minute, I lightly scratched the back of his head. “Bel?”

“Yeah?” He didn’t lift his face.

“Please don’t burn dinner. I’m really hungry.”

“Shit!” He peeled himself away but dragged me over to the stove with him. He turned the gas burner off, lifting the wok and flicking his wrist a few times to flip-stir the contents. Brightly colored veggies and marinated chicken sizzled, and my stomach whined. He set the pan back down, but tugged me into him again.

“Gods, I missed you so much. Give me one more minute.” He pressed his lips to my head. “Please. Just one more minute before I have to share you.”

I tilted my head back and grinned up at him, hands going to his chest. “Didn’t your mother teach you that sharing is good manners?”

Bellamy’s body slowly pressed me backward until my spine curved against the cool edge of the island counter, his hips pinning me with deliberate weight. “Oh, I can share,” he murmured, voice low and rich like dark chocolate. His gaze deepened to molten bronze, glowing in the dimmed kitchen light, as his palms settled firmly at my waist. “In fact, I look forward to it.”

My pulse spiked, and my breaths came rapid and shallow. Heat radiated from him in a tangible wave, seeping into my skin, pooling low in my belly. I ached for more than warmth. I wanted his hands trailing every curve of me, his lips mapping every inch of my body. The need tightened inside me like a coiled spring. I couldn’t fight it.

I didn’t want to.

“I’m okay with that,” I whispered, voice trembling. I tilted my pelvis ever so slightly, and Bel pressed closer. He was hard, and I shivered at the knowledge that I had made him that way. I swallowed around a lump in my throat as he leaned to slide one hand down my side to curl at the back of my thigh.

With his eyes locked on mine, he lifted my leg and hooked it around his hip before lifting me to perch on the edge of the counter. He rolled his pelvis in a smooth motion, and the denim-clad ridge of his cock dragged over my center, sending a sharp spark of sensation through me. A soft, startled cry escaped my lips. It was like dry leaves igniting, tiny flames blooming into an unexpected wildfire that raced over my skin.

He repeated the move, harder this time, and the molten pleasure pooled where I wanted him most. My head fell back, hair fanning across the countertop and eyes fluttering closed in surrender.

“Fuck, you’re so responsive,” Bellamy grated and nudged my weight backward onto my hands. His breath was rough against my heated skin as his mouth slid down to the tender hollow of my neck. “I want to worship you everywhere and hear you make that sound for the rest of my life.”

I parted my lips, an invitation to do just that ready on my tongue.

“You didn’t tell me we’re having Cordelia for dinner,” a dark voice purred, cutting through the lusty haze. I gasped, twisting to look over my shoulder, but Bellamy remained unmoved as he nipped at my collarbone and continued to slowly grind against me.

Across the counter stood Lucian, silver eyes glinting with hungry amusement. His tongue flicked over his lower lip, and the barbell beneath his eye caught the light as he smiled. “Can I have a bite?”

“Maybe for dessert,” a new voice interrupted, unfazed. “I told you to set the table.” My savior from the club, Rami, rounded the counter to open a cupboard and pulled out a stack of plates for Lucian.

I squeaked in surprise, torn between pushing Bellamy away and inviting the big, blond man to join us too. No, that was my horny magic. I didn’t know Rami. Didn’t know if Bel’s conviction was correct. Didn’t even know if maybe Rami felt the way Quinn did.

Lucian and Bel whined like children having their fun spoiled, and my better sense fully returned. I pressed my hands, cold from the marble countertop, to my blazing cheeks.

“I am so sorry,” I breathed, realizing that we’d essentially been caught dry-humping against the kitchen island. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Should’ve been me,” Bellamy groused, glaring daggers at Rami’s broad back.

I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing, the dirty insinuation dispelling the awkwardness of the moment.

Bellamy grinned and threw me a wink. “You don’t have to be embarrassed,” he whispered close to my ear and pressed a teasing kiss to my cheek. “We all want you to come undone and we all want to be the one to do it.”

My belly full-on swooped at his declaration, my heart struggling to find its rhythm. Before I could even begin to unravel the elaborate knot now tied in my chest, he was jerked away.