“I don’t think I’ve ever been the little spoon before,” I muse.
“I like to hold, too.” She scoots back to get a better position, and then stills. A shiver rolls through me as her hand traces over my shoulder, just brushing my skin.“Can I touch?”
“Sure.” She runs her fingers over my back, tracing the curves of ink, then stroking down the jagged lines of scar tissue. I let my eyes fall shut. “I’m assuming you have some questions,” I say lightly.
“Glen told me what happened on your last tour.”
I’m surprised. I didn’t think Glen talked to anybody about our time in captivity. Not even me, and I wasthere.
“Matt doesn’t have any scars,” Briar continues. Her silky hair trails across my skin, raising goosebumps. “Unless they’re like, on his ass. I saw him in the pool.”
I hum. “No. Our captors barely touched him.”
Her fingers pause. “What? Why?”
“They figured, since he was the patrol commander, he’d have the most info, so they used hurting us as leverage to get him to talk. They made him sit and watch as they cut us and burned us and whatever else.”
“Oh my God.”
I nod. “I wouldn’t trade places with Matt for anything. It’s one thing to resist your own torture; but it’s completely different to watch people you love get punished for your actions. Our captors made him feel like he was responsible for everything that happened to us. He was already so guilty for letting us get caught, and they preyed on that guilt. It tore him apart.”
Briar doesn’t say anything, drawing patterns on my arms. I wince. “Sorry. This isn’t very sexy pillow talk.”
She’s silent for a second; then she sighs heavily.“Fine.”
“Fine, what?”
Her lips tickle my ear. “You can hold me.”
I can’t hold back my smile. I roll over, wrapping her in my arms. She curls up against my chest and closes her eyes.
“Thank you,” I mumble.
“Shut up.” She pinches my thigh. Outside, I hear raised voices as Matt starts to argue with Glen.
Briar groans. “Tomorrow is going to be Hell, isn’t it?”
“He won’t make it easy,” I admit. “Not by a long shot.”
Twenty-Three
Briar
?
I wake up slowly, in a warm cosy nest. It takes me a few seconds to remember where I am.
I’m in a sexy bodyguard sandwich. Kenta is steadfastly cuddling me from the front, and Glen is curled up at my back, his breath hot against the nape of my neck. For a moment, I just lie there, enjoying the feeling of two men draped over me.
Eventually, though, the ache in my bladder is too sharp to ignore. I carefully slide out from under the heavy limbs, rubbing my thighs together as I register the soreness between my legs. I think I need to buy some lube. It’s been so long since I had regular sex; my poor vagina is woefully unprepared.
I go to the bathroom and slip into a pair of pyjamas, then head into the main suite. Matt is sitting at the kitchen counter, taking apart a pistol. I pad across the lounge to the kitchenette, pulling a mug out of one of the cupboards. “Morning.”
He grunts, fiddling with the mechanism. I watch him carefully. I’ve never seen any of the guys with weapons before. It feels surreal, like we’ve dropped onto a movie set.
“It’s so weird to see you holding a gun.”
He doesn’t raise his gaze. “Does it scare you?”
