“That goes for you, too,” Carson told Slade, stealing that dominance for himself.
Okay, so maybe Atticus had been wrong about Carson. He’d thought he was the dominant one, but then this morning, he’d seen his submissive side, so he’d thought he was wrong. Apparently, he was wrong about being wrong.
Oh, Jesus. Now his brain was running away from him.
“If this is what you want, then get undressed,” Slade said, his gaze pinned on Atticus.
Carson cocked an eyebrow. “You sure about this?”
Atticus wasn’t sure about anything, but he nodded, then confirmed with a breathless “Yes.”
Slade got to his feet, allowing Carson to sit up. He shifted to one end of the couch while Slade stood in front of him. Atticus watched as Slade stripped his jeans down his big, muscular thighs.
Holy shit. The guy had an amazing body. All that fucking muscle. Atticus wanted to lick him from head to toe.
“Atticus,” Carson said more firmly. “Undress. Now.”
Right. Yes.
This was happening.
This was happening.
It took no effort to strip his shorts off, tossing them to the floor. Both Slade and Carson paused to stare at him, and he felt the weight of their gazes as they shifted over him, caressing him without touch. Oddly, it was as effective as if they’d stroked him with their hands.
“You good?” Carson asked Slade.
Slade nodded.
“Then sit down.”
When Slade sat, Carson got to his feet, moving to stand in front of Slade. Atticus watched as he slowly lowered himself to his knees, placing his hands on Slade’s thighs.
“Tonight is about you,” he told Slade. “Not me. From here on out, I serve at your pleasure.”
Slade’s lips parted on a gasp.
For the next hour, Atticus watched as the two men he craved made him come without laying a single finger on him. It was, by far, the hottest thing Atticus had ever witnessed.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Friday, September 16, 2022
One day until the wedding…
“We have to tell her.”
Brantley stirred, coming awake despite his deep desire to remain right where he was. He was tired. Probably because they’d stayed up late, retracing their steps through the house, combing every single inch for the rings. They’d even gone out to the barn once all the team members had left and did the same thing.
No fucking rings.
Although he hadn’t wanted to, Brantley even called his sister. Bryn had laughed when he asked her if someone had snuck into his house and stolen the rings. Evidently, she found it highly amusing. And yes, she’d denied any wrongdoing on anyone’s part, but she insisted on finding out what day they’d gone missing. At first, he thought she was going to help him find them. Turned out she simply wanted to know because it would determine who won the pot. Technically, he didn’t know for sure when they’d gone missing, but he picked Wednesday because he knew she had Tuesday.
“Want me to call her now?” Brantley said, reaching for his phone to call JJ and deliver the bad news.
“No.” Reese practically fell on top of him to stop him from picking it up.
Brantley laughed, sliding his arms around Reese and pulling him so he draped over him like a blanket.
