Chance grabs her chin in his free hand, turns her head to him, and kisses her hard, pulling her onto him. She reaches for his shirt almost frantically, pulling it off before she starts working on his fly.
I walk to the bed and lay down beside them, stealing her mouth from Chance and feeling every ounce of stress melt out of my body when her warm, soft curves mold to me, her tongue sweet and urgent in my mouth.
My hand slides down to Roxie’s curvy ass and I grab it, holding her to me as my hips start rocking. I’m still wearing my underwear, but that doesn’t stop her from grinding on me like a teenager, and the wet heat of her is almost too much even through the fabric.
Eventually, I give in and slid a little further down the bed, pushing my boxer briefs down just in time for her to straddle me and sink down onto my throbbing cock. I let out a strangled cry at the unexpected urgency in her today.
“You were so good with Dillon earlier, baby. Do you want to do the same for Chance?”
She nods eagerly, and when he rises up on his knees behind my head, I get a fucking fantastic view of his cock sliding between her lips. She swallows him down hungrily while I thrust into her from below, watching the smooth skin of his shaft disappear into her mouth over and over again.
The base of my spine starts prickling, my balls drawing up as I hear Chance let out a sound that is pure, animalistic need. He starts fucking her mouth in earnest, and she takes it like she’s been born to do it, grinding on me and bracing herself with one hand on my chest to keep her balance.
Her nails dig into my skin, her pussy fluttering around me. Seconds later, her entire body goes rigid and she squeezes me tighter than I ever thought possible, wet heat flooding around me.
It’s enough to make me lose it, coming so hard that my ears ring in the aftermath.
At almost the same moment, Chance erupts down her throat, and she greedily drinks him just as she did Dillon. I pull her into my arms, pressing kisses to her damp hair while Chance curls up on one side of us and Dillon on the other. I fall asleep still inside her, hearing a contented sigh against my ear as she snuggles closer.
When I wake up, morning light filters through the curtains, spilling across the bed and painting her skin a warm gold. Roxie is still asleep, tucked between us like she belongs here. Dillon’s arm is slung lazily over my waist to reach her, and Chance is turned toward her, breathing steady, protective even in rest.
There’s something about the way her brow smooths when she sleeps, the tiny crease between her eyebrows fading like all the worry she carries has finally given her a moment’s peace. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel something I’d almost forgotten how to feel.
Hope.
The fact is that she fits with us. Perfectly. Not just in bed or in the space between us, but like she’s the link we’d all been missing.
I don’t know how long she’s been running or from who, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever it is, it won’t touch her here.
Something I thought had burned out when my marriage had ended stirs to life again as I watch her. The need to protect. To keep. To build something worth holding onto.
Roxie murmurs softly in her sleep and shifts closer to Chance, her fingers brushing against his chest. Her darker head bent close to his blonde one. Both of them look so damn serene.
Whatever she’s running from, whatever she thought she had to face, she won’t be doing it alone anymore.Ifshe lets us help.
An idea creeps into my head like a thief in the night, rattling me a little because I know it’s wrong.
Ever since she’d arrived, we’d all been dying of curiosity to find out more about her. Chance had made us swear to stay out of it until she was ready to talk, but I was done waiting.
The need to protect her is too overwhelming, and the sense of impending doom if we lose her too great. But I can’t be ready if I don’t know what’s coming, so I creep out of bed, careful to extricate myself without jostling the mattress too much.
Once my feet hit the carpet, I pad quietly across the room and pull on a pair of underwear.
I don’t bother with more clothes, striding out into the hallway and up to my office. I fire up my computer and enter her name into the search bar when it pops up. Other than a few seemingly inactive profiles on social media, there’s nothing. No news articles featuring some atrocity she’d been involved in.
At least she wasn’t a wanted criminal. I’d even run a background check, but that came up empty too. By the looks of things, she’s a perfectly normal twenty-two-year-old who hails from New York and has never participated in any riots, protests, crimes, or suspicious activity whatsoever.
I shut down the search tab and lean back, rubbing a hand over my jaw. The lack of answers leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I hate not knowing, but I hate the idea of pushing her even more.
So instead of digging deeper, I decide to let it go for now and open another window, this time to a clothing store. I load up my cart with jeans, thermals, sweaters, and a few soft tees. Warm socks. A proper jacket for winter.
I hesitate at the perfume section, then clickadd to carton something that claims to smell like vanilla and cedarwood. Simple, but soft. Like her.
Done in the office for now, I’m in the kitchen making coffee when Chance comes in, takes one look at me, and groans.
“What have you done?”
“What?” I blink innocently, but he only widens his eyes at me. “Fine. It’s nothing bad. I just ordered her some stuff. Clothes. Perfume. Just a few things she might need for the winter.”
