“Talon…” My voice trembles.
“Come on, I know you want it,” he coaxes. “It felt good yesterday, didn’t it?”
I inhale. Nathaniel smells like soap, skin, and that faint bite of disinfectant that never quite leaves him, no matter how hard he scrubs.
“Skye,” Talon says again, softer now. When I glance over, he’s not grinning. “We can keep it gentle this time.”
“Mhm. He’s right,” Nathaniel adds. “Soft. So you don’t hurt too much, yeah?”
It’s like they’ve started sharing a brain. They’re following two halves of the same thought, moving in sync without a word.
“We’ll keep you,” Nathaniel murmurs, “right here.” His thumb draws lazy circles at the base of my neck, gliding lower across my collarbone to the tender notch of my throat. Talon’s knuckles trace my thigh.
“We’ll just slip your panties to the side and fuck you a little, hm?” Talon murmurs.
I huff, but the sound turns breathless.
“There’s nothing you two do gently,” I say. “You don’t even know how.”
But who am I kidding? I want this so badly I’m surprised I’m not foaming at the mouth. Yesterday had been mind-blowing.Ensorcelled. Like they’d used one of their creepy leather-bound spells and turned me into a succubus.
Sensuality so overwhelming it had to be dark magic.
And now I’m teetering on that edge again.
I hate it. I love it. I hate that I love it. But gods, I do.
“Turn over,” Nathaniel murmurs. “Let me see you.”
I should argue. The word sits on my tongue but dissolves when his mouth ghosts my temple. He eases me onto my back, the blanket sliding to my waist. Talon kneels beside us like a sinner at an altar.
“I just woke up,” I try again, aiming for bite.
“And what better way to start the day?” Talon’s gaze dips as the blanket slips another inch. “We’ll get hit by some kind of bullshit anyway. Let’s live a little, babe.”
Wedidlive a little yesterday.
And some small voice whispers: it was the best time of your life. Why not again?
I’m not strong enough to defy it.
“Promise to be gentle,” I say.
“Promise,” Talon answers.
“On my life.”
“Skye,” Nathaniel chuckles. “Contrary to everything, we are not brutes.”
Mhm. I’ll believe it when I experience it.
Nathaniel’s palm skims my sternum, spreads over my ribs. His thumb catches the peak of my nipple through the thin cotton shirt someone put me in last night. It’s not mine. It’s his, I think.
“Arms up,” he says.
I lift my hands. He peels the shirt away. Cool air kisses my skin, yet somehow I go hotter anyway.
Talon whistles, low and hungry, but when he reaches for me, Nathaniel’s hand catches his wrist, just enough to stop him.
