Fingers stroke my hair as Raife settles behind me again. “Since Emmy Highland, of course. Just look at that face.” I wince when he jerks my head back, and I’m almost forced to break my gaze from Adam. I manage to hold it, barely. “So familiar, don’t you think? It’s uncanny, really.” The dark humor laced through Raife’s tone is unnerving enough I almost miss the words.Familiar?“Come on, brother. You know I’ve fantasized about fire on that woman’s skin for years.”
That woman?What woman?
When a tongue slides over the back of my neck, it’s so unexpected and teasing to my hyperaware skin that a strangled sound escapes—something between a moan and a growl. For one intoxicating moment, I can’t bring myself to care that the man with a fixation on burning me is the one touching me. Not when his brother’s deep blue eyes are boring into me, body heat radiating mere inches from the emptiness between my thighs, and—shit. What the hell did Raife give me?This time the noise that rumbles through my throat is an unmistakable growl.
Raife tsks and leans closer until his breath is on my ear. “You should know, I like it when you struggle.”
“Enough.” The quiet word slices through the air as Adam stands.
His fist clenches at his side before he dips the hand into his pocket and looks at Raife.
I win.
I smile. It feels awkward and detached, thanks to the drugs, like my body is not my own, but still. Maybe a staring contest isn’t the greatest accomplishment right now, but it’s all I have.
Adam only cocks his head to one side, then slowly runs his tongue over his full bottom lip.
My smile falters.
“Emmy, Emmy, Emmy,” he murmurs. Thoughtful. His deep, smooth voice commands my attention so effortlessly it makes my thighs rub together. His eyes are bolted to mine when he says, “Untie her.”
“But she’s a gift to you,” Raife scoffs, throwing his hands up. “Gifts are meant to be wrapped. Honestly, it’s basic etiquette—”
“A gift,” Adam repeats. One corner of his lips lifts as he watches me, but it disappears just as fast. He flicks his gaze to Raife, his expression hardening to stone. “Un. Tie. Her.”
Raife lets out an agitated sigh. When he tugs at the rope around my wrists until my arms fall to my sides, my eyes widen. I glance down at my hands, at the line of raw skin circling the area below them like bracelets, and then I slowly stretch out my fingers.
I’m still staring downward, in awe of the way a spark zips through my fingertips as they graze the soft fabric of my dress, when Adam’s deep voice pulls at something low in my stomach. “Get up.”
I glance up. Both brothers stand right in front of me. They eye me like I’m a circus clown who’s just been presented on stage, and they’re my audience of two, waiting to be entertained. Waiting to get what they paid for.
“I said, get up,” Adam repeats.
I continue to stare dumbly at him.
“You’ve been set free.”
Free?
Two figures form near the open doorway as Griff and Felix step into the room. They keep their distance as they, too, wait for my move. Felix’s bright blue bowtie catches the light as he leans against the wall, arms folded over his suspenders, while Griff’s massive frame remains motionless in the doorway, darkening the already bleak room.
I don’t understand. What do they expect me to do when my body weight feels too heavy to lift on my own? My tongue is thick in my mouth, my throat dry, and I fear that only garbled sounds will come out if I try to speak. That I’ll try to stand and fall straight to the ground in front of them. That I’ll be made to look even more weak and breakable than I already do.
Adam takes a step forward. I try to lift my head to see him better, but it’s like an anchor on my neck. As if he knows this, he slides his warm fingers beneath my chin and tilts it for me, until I’m forced to look straight into his eyes.
His voice drops to a murmur. “Isn’t this what you want, Emmy? To be free. To call the shots.”
I swallow. The man doesn’t even know me. So why does it feel like he sees right through me? Am I really so transparent?
He lowers his head until his stubble gently scrapes my cheek, and it sends a tremor down my body. “Or have I overestimated you?” His large hand slips from my chin to my throat, his fingers squeezing lightly. “Maybe you’re truly as weak as you look.”
Before I can respond, he pushes away from my throat. The heat of his touch still burns my neck. We’re not alone, yet he may as well be the only man in the room. His face hardens as he watches me. After a long, uncomfortable moment of me staying rooted to my seat, he grinds his jaw.
Still, I don’t move.
He finally shakes his head, his lips thinning into a firm line, and blows out a breath.
Without another glance my way, he turns and walks toward the exit.
