Chapter
Twenty-One
GRACE
Iwas floating in a warm, heavy darkness, the kind of sleep that feels like sinking to the bottom of the sea. There was no sound, no light, just the profound quiet of exhaustion finally claiming its due. The world had narrowed to the steady rhythm of breathing around me, the solid weight of AB’s fingers still laced with mine, the firm line of Bones’ body against my side. It was perfect. It was peaceful.
A hand on my hip, warm and calloused, pulled me gently from the depths. Not a jolt, but a slow, deliberate drag toward consciousness. I blinked my eyes open, but the room was pitch black. The only light was the faint, hazy glow from the street outside, muted by the heavy curtains. For a moment, I was disoriented, my mind still fuzzy with sleep. Then I felt the shift of the mattress beside me and heard a soft murmur right against my ear.
“Grace.”
Bones. His voice was a low, rough rumble, a vibration that traveled straight through my bones. It wasn't a question. It was a summons.
I shifted, my body still heavy and pliant with sleep. “Mmm?” was all I could manage. The sound was barely a breath.
His hand tightened on my hip, his thumb stroking a slow, deliberate circle over my skin. “Shhh,” he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear. “Stay quiet. Just feel.”
My heart gave a slow, heavy thud, waking up faster than the rest of me. His other hand slid from my shoulder down my arm, tracing the line of my body until it reached my waist. He was being so careful, so deliberate, as if he were trying not to wake the dead. Or maybe just not wake Legend, Voodoo, and AB. The thought was so absurd it almost made me giggle, but the sound caught in my throat as his fingers splayed across my stomach, his palm a brand of heat against my cool skin.
He nudged me with his body, a gentle pressure that was impossible to misinterpret. I rolled onto my back, the sheets whispering around me. The bed was a landscape of warm bodies. AB remained a solid, unmoving presence on my other side, his breathing deep and even as I slid my hand from his. Further off, I could hear the soft snores Voodoo had denied, and Legend’s quiet, rhythmic breathing. We were a tangle of limbs and blankets, a fortress of exhausted bodies.
Bones moved over me, not covering me completely, but bracing himself on one elbow beside my head, his legs tangling with mine. He was a shadow in the dark, a solid, comforting weight that smelled of soap and bone-deep weariness and something else. Something that was purelyBones.
“Bones,” I whispered again, my voice a little clearer this time. “What are you?—?”
He cut me off with his mouth. It wasn't a demanding kiss, not a hungry one. It was slow, deep, and exploratory. A kiss that saidI’m hereandYou’re mineandWe’re alive. His tongue swept against mine, a slow, languid dance that made my toes curl and my blood heat. His hand slid up from my stomach to cup my breast, his thumb brushing over my nipple, which pebbled instantly at his touch.
A soft gasp escaped me, and he immediately stilled, pulling back just enough to murmur against my lips. “Shhh. Quiet, Dollface. Just feel.”
I nodded, my movements jerky in the dark. I understood. This wasn't about loud passion or frantic need. This was something else. This was a silent, secret conversation in the middle of the night. A reaffirmation of life after we’d danced too close to death. A way to burn off the lingering adrenaline that sleep hadn't been able to chase away.
His hand began to move again, a slow, maddening exploration. He traced the curve of my waist, the dip of my hip, the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. Every touch was a spark, every caress a slow burn. He was driving me absolutely mad with his deliberate, controlled movements. My body, which had been moments ago slack with sleep, was now humming with a quiet, desperate energy. I wanted to arch into his touch, to cry out, to demand more, but his soft, repeated “shhh” was a constant reminder of where we were. Of the three other men sleeping just feet away.
It made everything more intense. The need to be silent, to keep our pleasure contained within this small, dark space between us, was a heady kind of torture. His fingers found my core, sliding through the slick heat that had gathered there. I bit down hard on my lower lip to keep from moaning as he circled my clit, the pressure light, teasing, perfect.
“Bones,” I breathed, his name a desperate plea against his mouth.
“I know,” he murmured, his voice strained. “I know, Grace. Just… let me.”
And I did. I let him. I let him drive me to the edge with nothing but his hands and his mouth and his whispered commands to be quiet. He slid one finger inside me, then another, his thumb still working that maddening circle. My hipsbegan to move of their own accord, a slow, rolling rhythm that met his strokes. I could feel the tension coiling in my belly, tight and hot and ready to snap. My hands fisted in the sheets, my breath coming in short, sharp pants that I tried to muffle against his shoulder.
He shifted, settling more firmly between my legs, and I felt the hard, heavy length of him press against me. He was just as affected as I was, his control a fragile thing I could feel straining at its edges. He kissed me again, deeper this time, a silent promise of what was to come.
“Please,” I whimpered, the word barely audible.
He didn’t make me wait any longer. He positioned himself, then pushed inside me in one slow, smooth stroke. I choked on a gasp, my body arching off the bed as he filled me completely. He stilled, giving me a moment to adjust, his forehead resting against mine. We were both breathing hard, the sound loud in the quiet room.
“Okay?” he whispered.
I nodded, unable to speak.
He began to move, a slow, deep rhythm that was both torturous and exquisite. Every thrust was a silent declaration, every retreat a promise to return. He was watching me, I could feel it, his gaze intense even in the darkness. He was committing this to memory, just as I was. The feel of him, the sound of our breathing, the scent of our skin.
He shifted his angle slightly, and the head of his cock brushed against that spot deep inside me. My eyes flew open, and a strangled sound escaped my throat. He immediately clamped a hand over my mouth, his touch gentle but firm.
“Shhh,” he reminded me, his voice a low, urgent whisper against my ear. “I know. Just let it happen.”
The pressure, the pleasure, the need for silence—it all combined into a perfect, stormy crescendo. I came with a silentscream, my body clamping around his as wave after wave of pleasure washed over me. It was intense, overwhelming, a release so profound it left me shaking.
