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My heart is pounding, and it sounds so loud in my head that I’m almost sure someone else has to be able to hear it too. Like it’s giving me away before I even get to wherever the guys are. If they’re even here.
I shouldn’t be here.
I keep telling myself that over and over again in my head. I should just turn around and leave. But memories of being chased down by that strange man keep resurfacing in my mind, and fear of that overrides my fear of disturbing the brothers.
A deep grunt catches my attention, followed by a muffled voice and a rhythmic thudding noise, and I hurry down the hall toward where the sounds are coming from. Light spills into the darkened hallway from a living room up ahead, and I’m about to step into the room when I freeze, realizing in a rush what I’m looking at.
It’s Malice.
And he’s not alone.
There’s a woman bent over the couch, her face mashed against the cushions. Her ass is cherry red from how hard Malice is pounding into her, his hips slapping against her body.
He’s fucking her hard and savagely, his face twisted into a primal expression as he drives into her body again and again. He has one hand on her back, keeping her face down and ass up, while his other hand grips her hip tightly.
They’re both completely naked, and I realize for the first time how many tattoos Malice has. He’s covered in them, not just on his arms but across his back and shoulders, and even down his legs, black ink mixed with a few splashes of color.
My breath catches, and my stomach clenches hard as I shrink back into the shadows of the hallway.
I should be disgusted and horrified, but the shock of what I’m seeing mixes with an undeniable pulse of arousal low in my belly. My feet are rooted to the floor, and I can’t look away from the sight in front of me.
It’s just… so much. Intense and violent and raw.
Clearly, Malice fucks the same way he does everything else, and now that I know that, I can never unknow it.
Oh my god, Willow. You shouldn’t be here. You have to go.
My brain finally kicks into gear as that thought flits through my head, and I blink, about to turn around and flee back down the hallway.
But before I can move, something brushes against the back of my neck. A warm gust of air almost like… breath. I stiffen, stifling a yelp as I realize I’m no longer alone in the hallway.
“You shouldn’t be creeping in here like a little mouse,” a male voice whispers from behind me, barely audible. “You might get eaten by lions.”
I recognize the voice as Victor’s, but that doesn’t give me any relief.
He’s the one I’ve interacted with the least of the three brothers, and what I remember of him isn’t comforting in any way. There’s no telling what he might do now that I’ve been caught sneaking into their home.
My chest heaves as I breathe through my nose, panic flaring. I brace myself for him to grab me and drag me down the hall, or to call out to Malice to let him know I’ve been spying on him. But he doesn’t move at all. Instead, warm breath cascades over my skin as he whispers low in my ear again.
“Do you like watching this?”
Shock ripples through me at the question, and my stomach flips over.
Licking my lips, I glance over at Malice and the woman again. His broad back is mostly to me, so I can see his ass flex every time he drives into her. The muscles of his biceps and forearms stand out as he holds her steady, keeping her right where he wants her. He’s dominating her in every way possible, his large body literallyconqueringhers, splitting her open with each thrust.
My stomach flips over itself again, my skin prickling as I stare at the raw, primal sight in front of me.
No. I don’t like this. Do I?
I shake my head in answer to Victor’s question, not daring to open my mouth.
“That’s a lie,” he breathes. “I can see your pulse in your neck. It’s faster than normal. The average resting heart rate for a woman your age is sixty to one hundred beats per minute. Yours is at least twice that.”
I swallow hard, trying to slow my racing pulse, as if that will somehow prove Victor wrong.
But my heart keeps crashing against my ribs, thumping so hard that it almost matches the rough slapping sound of Malice fucking the woman over the couch. He’s holding on to her with both hands now, his thick fingers tight on her hips, and I wince in sympathy, because she’s definitely going to have bruises and maybe even divots from his nails from how hard he’s digging into her flesh.
She doesn’t really seem to care, though.
