Page 116 of Theirs to Tempt: The Marriage Claim

The word affects me viscerally every time he says it. And right now, he sounds almost affectionate.

Caleb skims me with his gaze. “Are you sore?”

The question is so blunt that I almost hide behind my cup. “I’m fine.”

Lucian’s gaze sharpens. “That is not what he asked.”

I take a sip that I don’t taste. “A tiny bit sore.” I blush. “Everywhere you would expect.”

“Come here.”

His tone isn’t unkind. Nor does it allow for disobedience.

On bare, silent feet, I go to them. Lucian takes the cup from my hands and sets it down. Caleb parts my robe enough to give them access.

Cool air touches my breasts. In this light, there is no pretending last night didn’t happen. My nipples are darker than usual, faintly marked where the clamps held, sensitive enough that even the shift of silk made me aware of them on the walk in here.

Lucian studies them with the same calm attention he gives a problem he intends to handle himself. He does not pinch. He traces the edge of one areola with a single fingertip, then the other, so light it is almost worse than pressure.

I hiss.

He stops. “Too much?”

“Just…tender.”

“Good.” He says it like it’s information, not praise. “We needed to see.”

Caleb settles his hand at my hip. “Sit.”

He guides me onto the arm of the nearest chair and eases my knees apart. I flush so hard I feel it in my throat. Morning sun. An open robe. Both of them standing over me like this is an ordinary morning when it’s anything but.

Caleb looks first. Then Lucian.

I am swollen. Flushed. Obviously used.

Caleb’s thumb strokes the inside of my thigh, close enough that I tense, but not close enough to touch.

“Breathe,” he instructs quietly.

I do.

Lucian’s fingers join his only long enough to part me, gentle, assessing. He touches my clit so lightly it is barely contact, checking the skin, but not trying to arouse me.

I still jerk. Not from pleasure exactly. From how raw I am. From being seen this clearly in daylight.

He withdraws at once.

Caleb closes the robe and ties it again. “No more this morning.”

I blink at them. “You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent.” Lucian hands me back my coffee.

“Bacon?” Caleb asks, pulling out a chair. “Eggs?”

I’ve never been served like this before, and I start to tell them that I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. But my mom’s words replay in my mind.

Right now, what could it hurt?