I look between the four men standing around me.
Mymen.
My future.
My heart feels too big for my chest.
“Well,” I say softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “I think we’ve earned a quiet moment.”
Jasper arches a brow. “You in the mood for quiet, Red?”
I laugh under my breath. “Nah. I don’t think I am.”
Lincoln’s eyes darken.
Beau’s dimples deepen.
And Lawson’s hold on me tightens before I manage to step out of his hold. My gaze never leaves theirs as I back up toward the stairs.
“Come upstairs with me?”
“As you wish, Abbie Girl.” Jasper steps forward first, and the three of them follow eagerly.
Like there was never even another option.
Chapter forty
Abigail
Icanfeelthembehindme.
Four sets of footsteps.
Four steady presences.
Four men who would follow me anywhere without question.
I reach the top of the stairs and slow, letting my fingers trail along the banister before walking down the hall toward my room. There’s no rush in my movements. No frantic energy. Just a burning desire for us all to be one.
By the time I reach my bedroom door, my pulse beats fast in anticipation. Pushing it open, I step inside and move toward the center of the room before finally turning to face them.
I’m wearing soft denim overalls that hug the gentle curve of my stomach. The straps sit loose on my shoulders, the front dipping low enough to show the white blouse underneath—light, airy, the sleeves puffed and brushing against my arms. The shorts of the overalls hitmid-thigh, leaving my legs bare. It’s simple. Nothing flashy. Nothing that should make my pulse race the way it is right now.
But the way their eyes drag over me as they enter my room… it feels like I’m wearing something far more sexy.
I don’t move toward them as their stares rake over my body.
I let them come to me.
Lifting my chin slightly, I meet each of their gazes head-on. “You’d think I have thousand-dollar lingerie on with the way you’re all staring at me.”
Beau huffs out a quiet laugh. “Can you blame us, Darlin’?”
“This is even better,” Jasper mutters, eyes still dragging slowly over me. “Cheeks pink. Barefoot. Our baby in your belly. Chest heaving—desperate to befucked.”
The way he says that word has me fighting to clench my thighs together.
“You look like ours,” Lincoln finishes.
