“Why do you do that?” I ask, because he has done it twice now.
He glances at his brother before returning his gaze to me, as if they are having a silent conversation.
“I cannot tolerate touch. If I feel your skin, you will want to reciprocate. It’s a normal human response, but I’m not fucking normal, Little Heathen.”
His dark eyes penetrate mine, and I know he’s like me. Lost in his mind. A beautiful, but broken, man. His eyes hold secrets. His heart, so much pain. He doesn’t hide it from me, because his eyes are like a window to his fractured soul.
Carter is right. I want to touch him. Maybe it’s because I know I can’t, but the urge is there.
“How can I be yours if I can’t touch you?”
Again, he looks at his brother before coming back to me, and swallows hard.
“If you need to touch someone, you can touch Knox. I can’t chance you touching me, Little Heathen. I don’t react well when someone crosses that boundary. I don’t want to hurt you, so I won’t risk it.”
I gasp loudly.
“You won’t touch me either?”
Carter lies on his side facing me, with his head propped up in his palm, as he nods slightly.
“I can’t, Little Heathen. You aren’t the only killer in this room. I’ll protect you from everyone, including myself.”
Turning my head, I look at Knox in question, and he nods in agreement.
“You can touch me, Tesoro.”
It’s weird that he calls me that because nobody has ever considered me to be a treasure. Every time he says it, butterflies swirl in my stomach. There isn’t any sarcasm. It’s genuine. I like it and hope he doesn’t stop calling me Tesoro.
I glance back at Carter, who has declared me as his, but is willing to let me touch his brother. How far does that go? Carter nods, giving me his blessing.
I reach out and trace the ‘Live fast, die young’, tattoo on Knox’s chest.
“Fuck, Tesoro,” he groans, and his voice comes out deep and drenched in desire.
“Do you like touching Knox, Little Heathen?”
I nod as I speak with a shaky voice.
“Yes. I’ve never touched a man like this.”
“Like what?” Knox asks, as he trails his fingers down my arm.
“I’ve only been with the men in my family.”
“It wasn’t just your father?” Carter asks.
Taking a deep breath, I respond, as the disgust grows inside me.
“Mainly, but sometimes others had sex with me as a punishment. I’m not normal either. I’ve never had someone touch me like this. I’ve never had an orgasm with a man. It wasn’t about my pleasure, but pleasing God.”
Again they share a glance, telling me that triplets are like twins, with that weird connection that seems to not require words.
Carter balls both of his hands into tight fists, as he leans forward and tentatively presses his lips to mine. His kiss is slow, deliberate, and restrained, as if he is being careful to not let his control slip. Knox groans beside us, while running his fingers over my thigh, as Carter slides his tongue past my lips. Awhimper escapes from my throat, and Carter responds by tilting his head to the side as he licks at my tongue like he wants more.
Needs more.
“Fuck, Tesoro. You look so pretty with my brother's tongue in your mouth. Does she taste good, Carter?”
