I nod so hard my vision blurs. “Y… yes…”
Hayes’s smile sharpens. “Good girl.”
They start stripping me. Agonizingly slow, like they’ve got all the time in the world, and they know I’m already halfway to feral.
Beck goes first. Of course he does. Mister Golden Boy, Mister Smooth, Mister “I could make you come with just my smile.”
He starts at my shoulders, fingers brushing my skin, and then, oh god, his mouth. Warm and soft and sinful as he kisses every inch he uncovers. My top goes, one teasing inch at a time, while his lips map out collarbones, sternum, the curve of my breasts.
Behind me, Hayes is a problem. My problem. The kind of problem you don’t want solved because holy hell, it feels good. His fingers trail down my spine, slow enough to make me arch.
“So fucking soft…”
I almost melt. Right there. On the carpet. Dead from lust. RIP Lo Marsh.
And then he crouches, sinking to his knees like he’s about to propose, except the only ring involved is me clenching around nothing like a desperate idiot. His hands grip my hips, and his teeth, oh holy shit, catch on the edge of my panties. He tugs them down with his mouth.
Elastic snaps against my thigh, and then they’re gone.
I’m bare. Naked. Scent drunk and dripping. My entire body screaming, “Touch me or I swear to God I will combust.”
Ford just stands there. Watching. Silent. Coiled so tight he might snap me in half with a glance. His fists clench at his sides, close to losing control, and his eyes, dark and molten, fixed on me like I’m prey. The kind of prey that gets hunted, devoured, ruined. My stomach flips so hard it’s basically gymnastics.
Then Beck kisses me. So desperately, I can’t breathe.
When he pulls back, I’m shaking. Breathless. Basically, a puddle in human skin. And then he starts stripping himself. Slowly. A movie star in some forbidden striptease. Button by button, the kind of torture that should be illegal. His shirt falls open, hello muscles, hello scars, hello everything, and then it’s gone. Belt unbuckles with a sharp metallic click that shoots straight between my thighs. I swear my ovaries just threw a party.
I know I’ve seen him many times before, but this is the first time in our new home.
Hayes is already half naked because, of course, he is. He peels his shirt off in one fluid move, hair mussed. Jeans hang low, teasing, before he pops the button and shoves them down, leaving nothing to the imagination.
“You like what you see, Lo?” he rasps.
Yes. Yes, I do. Someone needs to engrave it on my tombstone when I die.
Ford moves last. And it’s devastating. He steps forward, slow as a predator, and grabs the hem of his shirt. Up it goes, and holy hell, this man is… a lot. Hard muscle, dusting of dark hair, scars that I definitely want to lick. He unbuckles his belt with that same slow precision that makes my knees threaten to go on strike. Pants slide down. Boots thud to the floor. And then it’s just him. Huge. Bare. Dangerous.
They don’t drag me to the bed. Oh no. They carry me. I’m a freaking princess about to get ruined in every way imaginable.
Beck hooks his arms under me, and Hayes grips my legs, and Ford follows behind, radiating pure predator energy that makes my stomach drop straight into my heat.
“Little Lo,” Beck murmurs against my ear, his breath hot enough to melt brain cells. “You shaking already?”
“No,” I lie. My voice cracks. Betrayal.
Hayes chuckles low, the sound deep and filthy. “You’re drenched. I can smell it.”
His nose brushes up my thigh as they lay me down on the bed, and oh god, I might spontaneously combust right now.Do not pass go. Do not collect two hundred dollars. Straight to horny jail.
The mattress dips under my back, soft and huge and smelling of them. I’m barely down before Beck’s mouth is back on mine, stealing my breath, kissing me like he’s got a personal vendetta against oxygen.
Hayes climbs up from the foot of the bed, and his hands are everywhere, rough palms skating up my thighs, squeezing, spreading me wide.
“Look at this,” he growls. “So fucking ready for us.” His fingers drag through the slick pooling between my legs and, holy hell, my back arches so hard I almost levitate.
And Ford?
Still watching. Still silent. His cock is out and… oh my fucking god, I am the luckiest Omega alive.
