“Where is everyone?” I ask. My voice sounds thin to my own ears. My skin feels too tight, hot and itchy, like it doesn’t fit my bones anymore.
Knox helps me out of the truck. His hands are warm, too warm, but they feel good against my chilled skin.
“I called Miller,” Knox says, his chest vibrating against my back as he steadies me. “I told him to suspend everything. No workers, no deliveries, no noise.”
“Why?” I ask. “We have so much to do. The roof. The fence.”
Rhett walks around the front of the truck, scanning the perimeter like a soldier securing a perimeter. “The inspection doesn’t matter right now. The fines don’t matter. We need to secure the house. We need to lock this down.”
“Because I’m going into heat,” I say. It’s not a question. It’s happening now.
“Yes,” Rhett says. “Because you’re going into heat. And we aren’t letting anyone near you.”
He opens the front door and waves us inside.
The house is cool, but it feels stifling. The air is thick with the scent of the three of them—whiskey and ginger, rosemary and mint, cinnamon and espresso. It should be overwhelming. It should make me want to run.
But as I walk through the living room, the scents wrap around me like a heavy blanket. My heart rate slows. The panic in my chest eases.
Boone is inside. He has the curtains drawn, the lights dimmed to a soft glow. He has turned down the bed, piled the pillows high.
“Is the gate locked?” Boone asks Rhett.
“Double locked,” Rhett says. “The chain is up. No one gets in or out without us knowing.”
“Good,” Boone says. He turns to me. “Let’s get you to bed.”
I don’t argue. I’m exhausted. My bones ache. My head swims. I let them guide me to my bedroom. The room smells like me, like vanilla and honey, but the men’s scents are already seeping into the walls, claiming the space.
They help me onto the mattress. I crawl into the middle of the big bed, burying my face in the pillows.
The mattress dips as they sit down on the edge. One on the left, one on the right. Knox stands at the foot of the bed, looking down at me with hungry eyes.
“How do you want to handle this?” he asks. His voice is low, raspy. “Do you want us to leave? We can sleep in the living room. We can bring you water. Keep you company from a distance.”
I roll onto my back. I look at them. My body is on fire. Every nerve ending is screaming for touch. I can smell them—rich, masculine Alpha pheromones that make my mouth water and my core clench.
I try to think like a lawyer. I try to formulate a plan. I try to organize my needs and set boundaries.
But the fever in my brain burns away the logic. The words that come out of my mouth are raw and honest.
“I’m horny,” I say.
The silence that follows is absolute.
Knox lets out a breath that sounds like a groan. “Yeah. We know. We can smell it.”
“It hurts,” I say, shifting restlessly. “I feel empty. I feel like I’m going to crawl out of my skin.”
Knox walks to the side of the bed. He leans down, bracing his hands on either side of my hips. He’s so close I can feel the heat radiating from his body.
“We can help with that, baby,” he says.
I look at him. I look at Rhett and Boone.
“Are you sure?” I whisper.
“We’re sure,” Boone says. He moves to the other side of the bed. “We aren’t going anywhere. We’re going to take care of you.”
