Damp clothes are better than nothing.
Beau follows my lead without a word, peeling off his shirt, laying it next to mine to create a makeshift bed.
The domesticity of the gesture stands in stark contrast to the raw hunger burning in his eyes, and I feel something twist in my chest at how right this feels.
How much I've missed working in sync with him, moving together like we're two parts of the same machine.
Lucy watches us prepare for her, and there's something in her expression that's pure feminine satisfaction. Like she knows exactly what kind of power she wields over both of us, and she's not afraid to use every bit of it.
And then she's reaching for the hem of her shirt.
"No." The word comes out rougher than I intended, stopping her mid-motion. "That's our job, Shortie."
I move to stand in front of her while Beau positions himself behind her.
My hands find the bottom of her shirt, and Beau's fingers start working on the button of her jeans, and suddenly we're all moving together like we've choreographed this dance a hundred times before.
Her shirt comes off first, revealing pale skin and a simple white bra that somehow looks more erotic than the most expensive lingerie money can buy. Beau's hands slide her jeans down her legs while I work on the clasp of her bra, and when she's finally standing between us in nothing but a scrap of white cotton, I have to take a moment just to look at her.
Christ, she's beautiful. All soft curves and smooth skin, her breasts full and perfect, nipples already hard from ourattention. There's a small scar on her ribs that I want to trace with my tongue, and the gentle flare of her hips makes my hands itch to grip and hold and possess.
"Look at you," I growl, my voice rough with want and something deeper. "Fucking perfect."
I lean down to capture her mouth, kissing her hard and deep while my hands map the curves of her waist like I'm memorizing them. She tastes like sunshine and sweetness and something that's purely Lucy, and I can't get enough. When I nip at her lower lip, she gasps into my mouth, and the sound goes straight to my cock.
Behind her, Beau's mouth finds the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, and she arches between us with a moan that makes my vision blur. His hands slide up to cup her breasts while I kiss my way down her throat, and suddenly we're all touching and tasting and claiming like we're starving for it.
I bite down on her collarbone, hard enough to leave a mark that'll last for days, and she cries out, her nails digging into my shoulders. "Mine," I growl against her skin, then suck hard enough to bruise. "Ours."
"Colt," she gasps, and the way she says my name makes me want to do filthy things to her until she forgets every other word.
That's when Beau goes rigid behind her, his breathing becoming ragged and desperate. "I need..." He stops, pulling back slightly, and when I look at him over Lucy's shoulder, I see something like panic in his eyes.
"What?" Lucy turns to look at him, concern overriding desire in a way that makes my chest tight.
Beau's jaw works for a moment before he speaks.
"I haven't been with anyone since..." He stops again, running a hand through his dark hair like he's trying to hold himself together. "Two years. And if you keep touching me like that, I'm gonna lose it before we even get started."
The admission hangs in the air between us, raw and honest and more vulnerable than I've seen Beau since we were kids.
Two years of celibacy, two years of self-imposed isolation. No wonder he looks like he's about to combust from a simple touch.
"So we slow it down," Lucy says simply, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "We have all afternoon. Hell, we have all the time in the world."
But Beau's already reaching for his belt, sliding the leather free with deliberate movements that speak of iron control. "Turn around," he tells her, his voice quiet but commanding in a way that makes my cock twitch.
Lucy looks at me, a question in her eyes, and I nod. "Do what he says, baby. Trust us."
She turns, presenting her back to Beau, and he gently pulls her arms behind her, securing her wrists with his belt. The sight of her bound and helpless between us does something primal to my brain, something that makesme want to beat my chest and claim her until the whole county knows who she belongs to.
"Better?" I ask Beau, and he nods, some of the desperate edge leaving his expression.
"Much."
With her hands secured, Lucy can't touch, can't do anything but feel what we give her.
The vulnerability of her position seems to heighten everything for her, because when I pinch her nipples, she arches into the touch with a cry that echoes through the barn.
