Atlas rests one hand lightly on the blanket near my ankle.Not touching me—just making sure I feel him there.“Sleep,” he murmurs.“We’ve got you.”
My eyes sting.I blink fast.“Thank you.”
Finn’s voice softens even more.“You don’t have to thank us for caring.”
My breath hits a snag.“I’m not used to—”
“I know,” Kael says.
He doesn’t say how.He doesn’t push.He just squeezes my hand gently and waits for me to breathe again.
The silence that follows isn’t awkward.It’s warm.Full.Charged.
Sexual tension simmers under the softness—not demanding, not rushed.Just humming there, an electric awareness that has all three of them leaning ever so slightly closer.
Kael’s thumb keeps brushing mine, slow strokes that heat my skin.
Finn’s knee presses lightly against my thigh through the blanket, warm enough to make my breath hitch.
Atlas’s fingers twitch near my ankle like he’s resisting the urge to touch more, to shift closer, to gather me under the shelter of his body.
I shouldn’t want this.
Not now.
Not like this.
But God, I do.
I feel safe.
Protected.
Wanted in a way that doesn’t ask for anything in return.
I close my eyes for a moment, but the awareness of all three of them sharpens everything else—their breathing, their body heat, the weight of their attention.
“You’re still tense,” Finn whispers, leaning closer.
“I’m trying,” I breathe.
Kael moves his hand to my shoulder, slow enough that I can stop him.I don’t.The warmth of his palm sinks through the fabric, spreading calm through me.
“Try with us,” he says softly.
His fingers sweep down my arm in a long, careful line.
Finn mirrors the motion on my other arm, fingertips skimming from my elbow up toward my wrist.Gentle.Comforting.But the intimacy of it is undeniable.My breath shivers.
Atlas shifts slowly, placing one massive hand at the foot of the bed near my shin.A silent question.
I nod.
He moves his hand up, settles it lightly over my calf through the blanket.
A sound escapes me—quiet, involuntary.Not fear.Not panic.
Need.
