Shiloh is elegance sharpened to a blade that he uses to slice through my restraint
Ever is so much more and less at the same time. He’s heat banked under stone until everything catches fire. Quiet until he isn’t. His kiss lands harder, rougher, with an edge of hunger he no longer bothers to conceal. He takes my mouth like he’s been thinking about it since themoment I walked away and resenting himself for every second of it.
They take possession of me. Steal any resolve or decision I might make to step back. My permission was given, and until I take it away, I’m theirs.
I feel it in the way Shiloh’s hands close over my waist from the front while Ever braces me from behind, in the way their bodies seem to erase every draft of air from the room until all I know is male heat and pressure and the smell of clean skin, whiskey, and sex already building.
They could take me now, and I’d be nothing more than a puddle of need.
Shiloh bends first.
His mouth drifts from my collarbone to the valley between my breasts. Peppering my skin with open-mouthed kisses that feel half worship, half threat. His hands spread wide there, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the dress, and a helpless little sound escapes me at the jolt of pleasure.
It’s consuming, the way they cover me with their bodies, their energy. I don’t have to breathe.
I only have to feel.
Even Nash, who hasn’t touched me yet, is here. I can feel it. His focus solely on me.
Ever’s cock prods against my back, hard and unmistakable, when Shiloh goes lower. He pushes my legs apartwith practiced insistence, crowding my thighs with his shoulders, and drags his nose over the front of my panties through the dress.
His moan is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“You send me out of my goddamn mind, Yank,” he murmurs against me. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I whimper through Ever’s kiss when he hauls me up against his chest, lifting me just enough that my toes barely brush the floor.
“What are you doing?”
It comes out breathless. Not really a protest. More plea than anything else.
Shiloh glances up, lips parted in an easy smile, his eyes so dark they’re nearly black.
“Let us do this for you,” he says.
My whole body clenches.
He slides his fingers to the hem of my panties, pauses, and looks up at me again.
“Tell me no.”
Another out. Another choice.
My lips part. My head tips back against Ever’s shoulder. “Don’t stop.”
“That’s my girl,” Shiloh says softly.
Carefully, almost reverently, he drags the lace down my legs. Ever lifts me higher to help him, forcing me to cling to those broad shoulders, and suddenly I’m bare for them.
Heat floods my face. Memory flashes of the woods with Ever, of raw skin and bark and the wild, impossible feeling of being opened up in the sunlight.
Based on his dark chuckle against my throat, he’s thinking about it too.
“Just how we like you,” he grinds out. “Pussy out and drenched for us.”
Shiloh groans under his breath as he settles on one knee. He parts my thighs wider and takes one leg over his shoulder.
And for one suspended second, I understand exactly how I must look—lifted in Ever’s arms, opened for Shiloh, presented while Nash watches from that chair with his cuffs rolled and his expression unreadable.
