Thoughts faded as sensation took over. Ezra’s fingers dug harder into Oliver’s hips, denting the firm flesh there. Possibly marking him with finger bruises. Claiming him at last.
“Fuck, oh fuck,” he grunted, sweat beading against his brow when the pleasure spiraled higher and higher, out of control. He felt his cock begin to pulse and then he came. He howled Oliver’s name, his head thrown back, his eyes squeezed shut.
Anna whimpered and Ezra opened his eyes to watch her come, too. Her hips jolted as pleasure rocked through her. Oliver drew it out, moaning against her as she came, body twitching and twisting beneath him. Then he collapsed against her on the bed, holding her without asking for his hard cock to be relieved.
Ezra slowly withdrew, watching beads of his come slide down the back of Oliver’s thighs. God, how he wanted to paint that image. The aftermath of pleasure.
Anna scooted over a little and Oliver curled beside her, still half on and half off the high bed. He flopped an arm over her stomach, watching her, but Anna turned her face. Ezra frowned. This was more than frustration. Oliver’s resistance really hurt her.
And he supposed, if he allowed this connection between them to continue, to grow…it would eventually hurt him, too. So perhaps it was time to address it. Once and for all.
He walked to the door, feeling both of them track him like hungry wolves. With a smile, he reached up and pulled the bell. As he waited, he glanced back at his two lovers, naked on his bed.
“Why don’t we have a bath?” he suggested. “And then a very long talk.”
CHAPTER11
Anna
Anna had expected there would be distractions in bathing with these two men. And there had been, at least a little. Ezra had soaked in the tub with her first, washing himself and rubbing her body, smiling when she gasped and moaned for him. But he hadn’t pushed past just teasing.
Then Oliver joined her, washing swiftly before he positioned himself behind her. And now Anna shivered as Oliver worked the soap through her hair gently, his fingers caressing her scalp.
“Oh, it has been far too long since someone did that,” she murmured.
Ezra shifted in his spot in a chair beside the tub, and she felt him looking at her even though she didn’t open her eyes. She wished she could take the words back, erase his interest. She didn’t want to tell this man the entire story. To make him pity her, as she was sure he would pity her.
“Why is that?” he asked gently. “As a duchess, you must have servants lined up to take care of you.” She didn’t answer and he cleared his throat. “Anna,” he said.
She opened her eyes at last and found herself speared by his gaze. She felt Oliver’s fingers tighten a little against her skin, his tension matching hers, just as it always seemed to.
“Why didn’t you have any other servants when you came here?” Ezra pressed.
“Because…because when my husband died, he made no arrangements for my being taken care of,” she admitted, hating how her voice cracked. “And the new duke stopped paying my servants months ago, so they left.”
Ezra’s expression darkened with anger. Frustration on her behalf. He glanced past her to Oliver. “And why did he continue to pay you?”
Anna looked up at Oliver to see his answer, and in that moment she saw a flutter cross his expression. She sat up and twisted to face him. “O-Oliver?”
“Hedidn’tpay you, did he?” Ezra whispered.
Oliver didn’t say anything, but used the pitcher to rinse her hair. She caught his hand after he was finished and held it tightly. “Oliver. Did he pay you?”
“No,” Oliver said, and met her eyes evenly.
She shook her head as the truth of that statement rushed through her. The rest of her servants had departed at least two months ago due to lack of funds. The idea that Oliver had been unpaid since that same time…
“No. No. Oliver, why did you stay?” she asked.
He cupped her cheek, smoothing rivulets of water from her skin with his thumb. “You know why,” he said, his low voice breaking.
Tears leapt to her eyes. Yes. She did know why. Of course she did. She knew this man, this marvelous, wonderful man cared deeply for her. Perhaps even loved her, not that she deserved the heart that beat in his chest. He was ten times the man as any she’d ever met. Worthy of more than she could give in a hundred lifetimes, a thousand.
“Oliver,” she began.
He shook his head and got up, pushing out of the tub in one smooth motion and leaving her behind to stare as he caught a towel and began drying himself swiftly. He refused to look at her now, refused to look at Ezra.
“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he said.
