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"Leave, or I’m going to turn you three into little crying babies," she said, adding a layer of threat to her voice, knowing she failed. She couldn’t do threatening if her life depended on it.
"That’s what 24/7 means, Rayne."
Beckett said her name, and she lost her train of thought. What the heck was truly wrong with her? It was then that she noticed three leather duffel bags lining the wall of her living room.
Oh gosh. They weren’t seriously going to live with her for the next thirty days, were they? No, she refused to entertain the notion. But she was going to think of ways that would send them back to where they came from and leave her alone to grow into an old spinster by herself.
"Well, go and be 24/7 somewhere else," she said lamely. "I’m serious. I’m counting down to five, and then I’m pulling this trigger."
Oh no, no, no.
Like the sleek, large, and deadly predator she likened them all three to, Beckett stopped emptying the selection of bags gracing her dining room table and started to come toward her.
In the background, Aston and Keaton were opening cupboard doors in her kitchen, looking for plates and glasses. She didn’t know what to make of it that she was so absolutely vigilant about all three of their whereabouts all at once. As if she couldn’t separate them, as if they operated as a single unit and all her senses were evenly spread out amongst them.
For one annoyingly sudden and completely unasked-for moment, an image of them touching her with their mouths, hands, their cocks blitzed through her mind and made her gasp internally.
She had used the bathroom at the office to wipe away the wetness that had made her thighs slippery and her folds ache, but it had been futile. Her body just opened up, softened, and soaked itself at the sight of them.
She needed to divert her thoughts. Becket was still coming toward her, the spray can still in her hand, raised since he was her most immediate target.
The smell of food, not just any food, but the chicken she had wanted to get before discarding the thought, and pizza from her favorite place, wafted to her and made her tummy rumble with agonizing hunger.
One thing at a time, she scolded herself.
Beckett reached her, almost daring her to spray pepper all over his deliciously handsome face.
She stalled for less than a split second, and in that time, Beckett, like a magician, divested her of her weapon in the space of an eye-blink.
How did he do that?
"Sit. Eat," he ordered her as he slipped the can of pepper spray back into her handbag. She felt as if he had just taken her pride, patted it on the head with athere, therethen handed it back to her, all rumbled and bruised.
But she still had some pride left, and dammit, she was going to use it.
Lifting her chin, she took one last glance at the food, then stiffly headed toward her bedroom.
Her apartment wasn’t big by any means. But before she made any progress in the direction of her bedroom, Aston caught her around the waist, tucking her under his arm as if she were some inanimate, weightless object and not an actual person and carried her back into the dining area.
Keaton pulled out a chair. Aston stuffed her into it. One of them took her handbag, while Beckett placed a plate of food in front of her before they all sat down to eat.
What in the ever-loving fuck had her life become?
She needed to think. Hard. But she was also hungry. That soggy sandwich she’d had for lunch and half a Snickers bar hardly counted as sustenance.
She wondered if she could eat with her chin raised as she looked down upon them, just to show them she was not impressed with being manhandled the way she was.
She couldn’t. But not from trying. After dabbing at the sides of her mouth with a napkin, she excused herself, picked up her plate, washed it, collected her handbag, and then escaped to her bedroom. She really should have stayed and cleaned up afterward, but the giant ball of guilt that she felt for not doing it was nothing compared to the tsunami affect their presence had on her.
They had taken up her whole afternoon and some of her evening. Her body had undergone a kaleidoscope of sensations, from pure raging dick lust—Sarah’s rather brash words—to wondering what on earth made them special enough that she got wet looking at them. That their nearness made her lose her breath and her mind.
That the sheer maniacal need to know what it would feel like if they touched her wracked her every single second in their company, and worse, she didn’t think she would be able to evict them out of her head anytime soon, either.
There was something to be said for absence, she reminded herself, as she stood under the shower in the cubicle in her bathroom. She was going to make herself forget them, but first, she needed to know why her aunt had decided to leave her three bodyguards in her will when she was worth millions upon millions of dollars.
She slipped into an old, soft nightie and got into bed. It wasn’t like she was going to sleep. Her universe had decided that she would be an insomniac as well, because why not? She usually read herself to sleep until the early hours of the morning, dosed for an hour or two, then sprang out of bed when she realized she was going to be late for work. Sometimes she didn’t sleep at all and arrived at work with the birds. Such was her lot in life. She was never going to sleep like a normal person.
Besides, she had a new book to read.Three Bossy Wolf Shifters and Virgin Girl, and she planned to finish it tonight.
