My throat tightened, something sharp blooming behind my ribs. I reached out under the blankets, fingers stretching toward the door.
Not a command.
Just an invitation.
Roan’s gaze dropped to my hand. His whole body shifted—so subtle I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been watching him so closely. The tension across his shoulders eased, his eyes gentled.
Jay didn’t say a word, but I could feel the change in him too. Like maybe they’d all been holding their breath since the heat broke.
Maybe now… we could exhale.
I let my hand rest where it was, fingers lightly curled, reaching out into the quiet. The warmth from Rhett behind me and the soft shifting of the bed beneath us was a balm, but then I felt something else—movement, steady and deliberate.
Jay eased onto the bed beside us, settling in close, his body warm against mine in a way that sent a fresh pulse of calm through me. I felt the steady beat of his breath, his hand finding mine, fingers intertwining like a silent promise.
Then Roan joined us, his presence filling the space with that familiar weight of power and protection. He settled at the head of the bed, careful not to crowd, but close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him in waves. His hand lifted, gentle as a whisper, to cradle my cheek.
Slowly, the tension in my chest began to ease, the sharp ache of uncertainty dulling to something softer—something I hadn’t been ready to admit before now.
As the minutes stretched, the quiet breathing around me slowed. One by one, the men drifted off to sleep—Rhett still tracing lazy patterns in my hair, his hand heavy but gentle on my side. Jay’s fingers laced with mine, warm and grounding. And Roan’s touch, featherlight against my cheek, kept me tethered to the moment.
There was something in that—something utterly captivating.
Not the wild ferocity that had pulled me into them before.
No. This was different.
This was care.
Deep, steady, unyielding care.
As my eyelids fluttered shut, I realized I craved it even more than the heat, more than the storm of passion and claim. Still, sleep remained elusive and I kept looking, checking to make sure they were still there.
The soft light in the room caught the faint shimmer around Roan’s eyes—the tired gold of a man who had given everything and wasn’t finished giving.
His fingers brushed against my skin, featherlight, and his voice was just a breath, a murmur meant for me alone.
“Sleep, Wren. We have time.” It wasn’t just words. It was a promise. One that settled inside me, quiet but fierce, from his soul to mine.
When I reached for his hand, he linked our fingers and everything inside of me settled. This time when I let my eyes close, sleep wrapped me up and I drifted off, safely cradled by all three.
Chapter
Twenty-Six
WREN
Iwoke to the smell of coffee and the low murmur of voices, warm and familiar.
The bed was mostly empty—just the lingering indentation of where bodies had been, sheets rumpled and still holding the scent of skin and salt and something softer that hadn’t quite faded. My muscles protested as I sat up, not sharply, but enough to remind me just how thoroughly I’d been…handled.
I stretched slowly, feeling the pleasant ache in my thighs, the tender pull across my hips. Even my scalp was sensitive where Rhett had threaded his fingers through my hair half the night.
Despite the way I moved like I was made of half-cooled wax, I felt… good.
Whole.
Wrecked, maybe. But good.
