That one word changes everything.
The silence after is brief but final. It settles over all four of us and becomes permission, choice, inevitability all at once.
I hold her gaze one more second, then bite the soft inside of her thigh. She gasps and her hips jerk.
I stand.
“You’ve had all three of us,” I say, watching her try and fail to think through the heat. “Who do you want?”
Her eyes go wide and move between us.
This is more than sex. More than this room. More than the bed, the ache in her body, the way her breath keeps catching every time one of us touches her. We all feel the shift when it happens—when awareness flares in the golden depths of her eyes and she understands exactly what I’m asking.
Notwho first.
Notwho more.
Who does she choose when choosing means consequence?
She wets her lips.
“I won’t choose between you.”
Something violent and possessive rolls through me so hard it nearly strips the air from my lungs.
Good. Because I would have hated her for trying, and then I would have hated myself.
“Then you get all of us,” I say, my voice low and final, “because none of us are backing away from you. Do you understand what that means?”
She nods once, brief and solemn, and for the first time tonight there is no sass in her. No bravado. Just truth.
“I understand.”
I hold her gaze for a second longer, making sure she means it, making sure she knows this is the point where things become real in a way they have not been before.
Then I look at Shiloh. This began with him.
He steps between her knees immediately, one hand sliding up her thigh while Ever’s mouth finds the side of her neck. Reva shudders hard, pinned between them, and I stay right where I am and watch every fresh crack in her control.
Shiloh leans in and kisses her. Long. Soft.
Nothing like the filthy hunger from before. This kiss is quieter. Deeper. His palm comes up to cup her jaw, thumb stroking once over the flushed skin there with a kind of reverence I know he would deny if I ever called him on it.
Reva goes taut between them, caught in that exquisite place between brace and surrender.
“Mine,” he whispers against her mouth.
It should sound ugly. Possessive. It does.
And yet there is devotion braided into it too, something almost helpless.
“Yours,” she whispers back.
We all hear it.
Shiloh closes his eyes for half a beat like the word hit somewhere he wasn’t prepared to expose. Then he steps back, strips out of his slacks, tears the shirt over his head in a burst of impatience that feels more like relief than aggression.
“I’ve been waiting all night for this,” he tells her, voice roughened to splinters.
