Page 223 of My Three Billionaire Rockstars

Because the truth is I’m already there, too. Somewhere between the diner and the lake and the compound and the trip, these men stopped feeling like a whirlwind and started feeling like home.

“Me neither,” I just about manage to get out. “I think I’m all in, too.”

Julian moves first. He walks toward me, hands sliding lightly along my waist before he kisses me gently.

Then Gabe’s there. One hand slides along my jaw carefully before he kisses me slower, deeper, like he’s still trying to say all the things he normally keeps locked behind control.

The kiss steals the breath from my lungs.

Then Xander grabs me, and everything else blurs out, like the universe is a tunnel that exists entirely between his eyes and mine.

His hands anchor at my hips, and when he kisses me it’s nothing like gentle. It’s almost too much, but I want more.

I thread my fingers through his hair and hold on like gravity’s optional. I’m not sure who makes the sound, one of those involuntary little whimpers that means yes please, all of this, forever, but it could be any of us.

Behind me, Julian’s arms wrap around my waist, and it’s not just my body that shivers, but some part of me I’d forgotten could still be surprised. His lips press beneath my ear, and I hear the vibration of his words before the meaning hits.

“You’re it for us,” he says. “No takebacks.”

The room ignites.

The three of them are on me in unison, a heated surround sound of hands, mouths, breath. My mind tries to catalog each sensation—Gabe’s fingers on the collar of my shirt, Julian’s palm exploring the small of my back, Xander’s impossible mouth—before I give up and let myself tip headlong into the delirium they’ve engineered.

Gabe leads us out of the kitchen, his touch at once imperative and gentle, mapping me with the same precision he uses to rearrange furniture or deconstruct a piece of music.

In the hallway, I reach a hand back and catch Julian’s, intertwining our fingers. He grins, eyes gone wide and dark, and leans in until his nose brushes my temple.

“Permission to get you naked?” he whispers.

I roll my eyes. “At this point, you don’t need to ask.”

He smirks dramatically and tugs my shirt out of my waistband. Gabe’s already unbuttoning, not even waiting for the process to migrate out of the hallway.

My back finds the wall. Julian presses me there, body curving to mine, and it’s carnage. His mouth and hands everywhere, as if he’s trying to memorize the shape of my desperation with all five senses.

My hair tangles in someone’s fingers—Gabe’s, I think. He has a habit of twisting when he’s nervous, and right now he’s wound up tight as wire.

“We can go to the bedroom,” I gasp, but no one listens.

Or maybe they do and choose violence anyway.

Xander’s hand catches my thigh, lifts, pins.

Then he kneels, sliding down my body so slowly my vision flickers. His breath is a line of heat up my leg, and then his mouth. My head clangs against the wall behind me, stars crowd the edges of my vision.

I lose track of where I end and they begin, and that’s the point.

It’s union by annihilation.

Julian is the first to get me open, his hands pushing my clothes just out of the way, jeans and underwear bunched precariously mid-thigh.

The flat of his palm is hungry, but it’s Xander’s mouth that seals over my pussy, tongue already merciless. He eats me with intent, like it’s a rebuke for ever doubting his devotion.

The friction makes me buck, and he keeps me pinned with one arm, his bicep steady as a steel rod.

Gabe is mouth to mouth with me, drinking in every sound I make, his body pressed hard against mine so hard I’m surprised there’s not a fire between us.

It’s all pressure, friction, sensation layered over sensation. His tongue, Julian’s hands, Xander’s teeth gently scraping the inside of my thigh. I can’t breathe, but I’m not sure oxygen is the relevant currency anymore.