“I know you were there,” she says quietly. “When I was with Gray.”
My throat closes.
Sheknows.
Of course she knows.
Bree’s voice drops lower, and I see the faint blush creeping up her neck.
“I didn’t mind.” She hesitates, then adds, softer, “I think I liked it.”
The words hit me right where it counts, and my body reacts before I can stop it.
She’s not angry. Not hurt.
She’sinvitingme.
My eyes flick to Jace, still frozen on the bed, and then back to her.
“Bree—”
“I want you here,” she says. “If you want to be.”
I stand there, hand curling into a fist at my side, fighting the war raging inside me.
The memory of being forced. Of Riley’s cruelty.
Against the invitation in Bree’s eyes. The choice she’s offering.
This isn’t the same.
She’snot the same.
I step forward.
Bree exhales—relief and something deeper—and leads me back toward the bed.
But instead of sitting on the edge, she turns to face me fully.
“Sit,” she says, voice soft but certain. “Against the headboard.”
I blink. “Bree—”
“Please, Rhett.” Her hand tightens on my wrist. “I want you here. Really here.”
Jace shifts on the bed, making room, his eyes flicking between us.
I move slowly, sitting on the bed and leaning back against the headboard. The wood is cool against my shoulders, solid.
Bree climbs onto the bed and settles between my legs, her back to my chest. The sheet has fallen away entirely, and I can see everything—every scar, every curve, every mark that proves she’shers.
She leans back against me, and I feel her warmth through my shirt.
“Better?” she asks, glancing up at me.
I can’t speak. Can only nod.
She reaches for Jace, pulling him closer, and he settles between her thighs—his hands on her hips.
