Ford slams one last time and freezes, knot buried to the hilt, and I feel the heat of him flood me so deep I swear I can taste it. My body milks him helplessly, orgasm detonating through every nerve while Hayes forces the vibrator faster and faster until I’m thrashing uselessly against the ropes.
I amnevergoing to get enough of these men, am I?
CHAPTER 40
Ford
I’ve been chewing on this idea for days.
Started as a splinter. Something sharp I couldn’t shake. Now it’s buried deep, festering.
I’m not the “flowers and picnics” type. Never have been. My idea of romance is making sure the doors are locked and the walls are thick enough that nobody hears what I do to her after.
But Lo?
Lo deserves more than what I am.
So I sit at the kitchen table, big hands wrapped around a mug that’s gone cold, and stare at the grain in the wood while I figure out how the hell to make this right. Make it more than just us saying words we already mean.
“She deserves more than a claim bite,” I say when Beck and Hayes finally sit down with me. “More than a knot and some random marks.”
Beck snorts. “She deserves the moon, Ford. You planning on stealing that next?”
I look at him. Just look. Until he goes quiet and shifts in his chair like the cushion’s got teeth.
“I’m serious,” I say. “This is Lo. OurOmega. You want the whole damn town knowing what she means to us? Or you want some cheap half-assed gesture that gets forgotten by Tuesday?”
Hayes runs a hand over his jaw, slow. “What are you thinking?”
I lean back in my chair. Coffee’s gone bitter and cold, but I drink anyway. Feels right on my tongue. Dark, biting, similar to what I’m about to say.
“Something she won’t see coming,” I tell them. “Not some big, public circus. No parades. No banners. She hates that shit.”
“She does,” Beck says, dragging a hand through his hair. “Wouldn’t even walk across the stage for graduation. Said it was ‘too performative.’”
I ignore the grin.
“It’s gotta feel likeher,” I say. “Quiet. Private. But… not small. Not cheap. Something that shows her we’ve been paying attention.”
Hayes tilts his head.
“Paying attention,” he repeats. He’s in planning mode now. “What does Lo love most?”
“Us,” Beck fires off, too fast, leaning forward with a smug look.
“Not what I meant,” Hayes says, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
I close my eyes and let it come. Easy. “She loves the lake,” I say. “Always has. Summers out there in that busted -canoe, hair wet, sunburn on her nose. That place is hers.”
Beck whistles low. “Out by the north point? With the old dock?”
“Yeah.”
Hayes drums his fingers on the table, thinking. “Could work. It’s quiet out there. No one goes anymore.”
“Not just the dock,” I say. “The trees. The wildflowers. Lights strung up through the branches. Lanterns in the water.” I can see it now, clear as timber grain. “I want it to look like something out of a dream.Herdream.”
Beck leans back, grinning. “Damn, Ford. Didn’t know you had a Pinterest board hiding in that grumpy head of yours.”
