“I think we all knew this was inevitable,” he says, reaching out to trail a finger along my collarbone. Water droplets scatter from his touch; tiny cold shocks against my overheated skin. “From the moment you barged into our lives, all fanged conviction and stubborn ideals.”
“Inevitable?” I arch an eyebrow, refusing to show how his touch affects me. “That’s a convenient rewrite of history.”
“Is it?” Percy slides up behind me, his hands settling on my hips. “Because I remember feeling something that first day at thecommittee meeting. Even when you were telling me exactly how wrong my designs were.”
I open my mouth to argue, but Prescott has joined our little water circle, completing the triangle of Porkwell’s surrounding me. “The statistical probability of all three of us being drawn to the same female—especially one who represents everything we’re supposedly against—is astronomically small,” he says, pushing his wet hair back from his forehead. “Yet here we are.”
“Here we are,” I agree softly, then I wonder when I started agreeing with Porkwell’s.
Hamilton’s hand slides up to cup my face, surprisingly gentle for a man I once smacked across the cheek in a boardroom. “Still hate me, Wolfhart?”
“Absolutely,” I whisper.
“Liar,” he murmurs, then his mouth is on mine, and it’s nothing like the angry, biting kiss we shared in the stairwell. This is deep and consuming, his tongue exploring my mouth like he’s mapping territory. I hate that I’m moaning into it, hate that my body arches toward him instinctively; but not enough to stop myself.
Percy’s lips find my shoulder, trailing toward my neck as his hands slide up to cup my breasts from behind. I gasp into Hamilton’s mouth as Percy’s thumbs circle my nipples, teasing them into tight peaks.
“She likes that,” Percy murmurs, a smile in his voice. “Remember how sensitive you were that night in my bed?”
“Shut up,” I manage to break away from Hamilton long enough to say, but my body clearly hasn’t gotten the memo.
Hamilton chuckles, and a deep rumble falls against my chest. “Still giving orders when you’re outnumbered three to one. That’s my fierce little wolf.”
“I’m not yours—” I start to protest, but then Prescott steps forward, his hand tentatively touching my waist, and the words dissolve on my tongue.
“May I?” he asks, so different from his brothers’ confident hands already exploring my body.
I look into his earnest eyes and nod. “Yes.”
His kiss is nothing like Hamilton’s dominance or Percy’s playful expertise. It’s curious and exploratory. I find myself melting into it, my hand rising to cup the back of his neck.
We’re all thigh-deep in the lake, cool water swirling around us, creating a delicious contrast that heightens every sensation. Hamilton’s hand slides between my legs from the front while Percy continues his ministrations at my breasts. Prescott breaks our kiss to trail his lips down my jaw and neck, his hands roaming tentatively at first, then with growing confidence.
“Should we move this to shore?” Percy suggests, his breath hot against my ear.
“Too far,” Hamilton growls, his fingers finding my clit, circling with maddening precision. “I’ve waited too long to be inside this wolf again.”
His possessiveness should offend me, but my body betrays me, pushing against his hand. “The great Hamilton Porkwell, impatient? I’m shocked.”
He nips at my lower lip in response. “You bring out the worst in me, Wolfhart.”
“And the best,” Prescott adds quietly, his hand joining his brothers between my thighs, exploring different territory.
I gasp as his finger slides inside me, quickly joined by a second. “You three are going to be the death of me.”
“What a way to go,” Percy chuckles, then guides us all toward the shallower part of the lake, where a small sandy beach offers more stability than the water.
I should feel self-conscious—one female surrounded by three males with very obvious intentions—but I feel powerful.
Wanted.
Hungry.
Hamilton pulls me down onto the soft sand at the water’s edge, positioning himself between my legs. “I’ve been dreaming about fucking you again since that day in the stairwell,” he says, his voice rough with desire. “Thinking about how you fought me every step of the way until you were screaming my name.”
“I didn’t scream your name,” I protest, though the memory of our hate-fueled encounter sends fresh heat pooling between my legs.
“No?” He positions the head of his cock at my entrance, teasing. “Let’s see if we can change that this time.”
