“Agreed,” I said.
Cassie didn’t need this shit right now.
That I cared at all about that was just one of many reasons I knew I was fucked.
“The worst of the heat has passed,” Hawk said, standing. “Let’s get wet.”
I rubbed my hands together. “I’m so down.”
Getting naked with Cassie in the hot tub was just what we needed, and whether she realized it or not, it was what she needed too.
“I think I’ll just go to bed,” Cassie said, getting to her feet.
“No, you won’t.” There was a hard edge to Hawk’s voice. “You’re getting in the hot tub.”
“I don’t want to get in the hot tub.”
Cassie did this sometimes: refused to do things that scared her, things that were easy when she could see but harder now that she couldn’t.
Hawk had been patient — more patient than I’d expected — but I’d sensed that his patience was coming to an end, probably because he knew I’d already fucked her and he wanted his turn.
Jealous fucker.
“I didn’t ask if you wanted to get in the hot tub,” Hawk said. “You can either come quietly or we can carry you.”
She pouted. “You did this on purpose.”
“Did what on purpose?” Jagger wanted to fuck her too, but he was a lot more patient at baseline than Hawk.
“Set up the patio for dinner. You just wanted to get me in the hot tub.”
I stood and took her hand. “You got us, mouse. We want you naked, wet, and ready to fuck. Now let’s go before Hawk tears off your clothes.”
23
CASSIE
I letVigo lead me to the hot tub as much because I was actually dying to fuck them as because I knew there was no point fighting them
Especially Hawk.
I’d been without my sight for two weeks now and I knew that tone in his voice, the one that said he wasn’t fooling around and he was going to get his way one way or the other.
I stood as still as a statue while Vigo undressed me, pulling my sundress over my head — careful of my broken arm — and stripping off my underwear until I was naked in the cooler evening air.
“We need to cover that arm,” he said. “Be right back.”
My arm was the second most annoying of my injuries after my blindness. It made it hard to do the most basic of things: get comfortable to sleep, steady myself when I was off balance, wash my face or hair without help.
I felt vulnerable and exposed while I waited, the whisper of discarded cotton and denim making it clear Hawk and Jagger were wasting no time taking off their clothes.
I missed looking at them, missed seeing their sculpted bodies and the ink that crawled over their skin. I missed their hands and their faces and their eyes, missed seeing the way they looked at me and guessing — or knowing — what they were thinking.
“Here you go, mouse.” Vigo was back and I heard the rustle of plastic, felt him gently cover my arm. “Tying it off like I do in the shower.”
“Not going to lie, I’m a bit jealous you’ve been letting Vigo help you in the shower,” Jagger said.
“That shit ends now.” Hawk was right in front of me, and I felt the brush of his body against mine. He squeezed my face, the way he did when he was frustrated or mad, when he wanted to make a point. “No more hiding. Understand?”
