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“Yes, ma’am,” he groans against my lips.
Grant pins me against his chest. “I think we need to go see about making baby number three. Maybe this time it will be a girl.”
Linc is already at the foot of the stairs. “Lord help us all if she’s anything like her mother.”
I laugh. “She’ll be blessed and cursed. Two older brothers and three protective daddies. Hmm, I almost feel sorry for the five of you, come to think about it.”
A little princess of the house would be a perfect addition to the family, and we all have more than enough love to spread around if we’re so blessed.
I turn in Grant’s arms and hold my arms open for Cain and Lincoln to press into my sides. Grant holds me tight as all three of my men wrap me in their arms.
“I love you. All of you,” and I stop there, feeling my emotions welling up. I don’t want to cry and ruin the moment.
“You’re our home, Mercy baby.”
“Our forever,” Linc murmurs against my lips before kissing me sweetly.
“As long as you’ll have us, sweetheart.”
My heart squeezes. Oh, I’m going to spend the rest of my life and theirs, showing them just how perfect we are together and how much family and love mean. They once thought they were freaks and perverts but they just needed the right woman to unite them, and I’m blessed to be the one.
* * *
Thank you for reading, Mercy for Three! Read on for the next book in the series, Honor for Three.
One
Honor
Not one. Not two, but three gorgeous men wait for me downstairs.
Army Rangers to the core, which means rule-followers through and through when all I want to do is break every last one that keeps them from claiming me in ways I’ve only fantasized about.
Standing in the middle of my bedroom I mentally run through my game plan one more time.
Limo arrives, share a little birthday champagne, slip my dress off and let my dream fantasy—aka my three über-hot, much older bodyguards—ravish my starved, virgin body.
And then it’s happy birthday to me!
A shiver works its way through my core and teases my senses until my nipples tighten into hard peaks and I clench my thighs. Suffice to say, getting my cherry popped by three former Rangers is my fantasy come true. I’m equal parts nervous and excited.
Maybe it’s not the most detailed of tactics or the most sophisticated, but I know what I want and I’m rolling with it for the first time in my life. Up until this second, it’s all been about keeping the family’s name pristine and exemplary.
But what happens tonight behind closed doors will stay that way.
My heart races, and I push down the heat coloring my revealing Irish skin. I swear I can’t have a single thought without it giving my emotional state away like a flashing billboard.
“I got this. Icando this,” I pump myself up.
Ihaveto do this. How many times have I chickened out before? Too many is how many.
So, no more running scared. Besides, a girl only turns twenty-one once, and I’ve wanted them for so long I think I’ve been in a perpetual state of arousal since my father hired them on my eighteenth birthday after a threat on my life nearly took me from him.
The man meant well, but he also crafted a life of torture for his only daughter.
If I don’t get their hands on me and soon, I’m afraid I’ll either pass out or snap, rip off my clothes and jump them in the middle of some event like a horny, rabid woman.
Surprise! Wouldn’t social media love that?
