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“Please,” I beg again, not even sure what I’m asking for anymore. The word falls from my lips like a prayer. “Please, I’m so close. I need⁠—”

“We know exactly what you need,” Gabriel murmurs, his hand sliding down to join Ford’s between my trembling thighs. “We’ll give you everything, Maeve. Everything you’ve been dreaming of and more.”

Hayden’s mouth replaces his hands on my breasts, drawing my nipple into the wet heat of his mouth while Gabriel’s fingers tease my entrance. The combination is devastating—Ford’s relentless tongue, Hayden’s wicked mouth, Gabriel’s skilled fingers—pushing me right to the edge of oblivion.

“Come for us,” Ford commands, the vibration of his voice against my clit nearly undoing me. “Let go, Spitfire. We’ve got you.”

I can feel my orgasm building, my entire body drawing tight like a bowstring. My breath comes in short pants, my heart pounding so hard I can hear it thundering in my ears.

“That’s it,” Hayden growls against my breast, his teeth grazing my nipple. “You’re so close, aren’t you? So ready to fall apart for us.”

“So perfect,” Gabriel adds, curling his fingers inside me as he drops his head to kiss my neck. “Our perfect girl.”

The coil of tension in me winds tighter and tighter until I’m balanced on a knife’s edge, just about to shatter into a million pieces, when⁠—

I jerk awake with a sharp gasp, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Darkness surrounds me, and I’m instantly, mortifyingly aware of Ford sleeping peacefully beside me in the massive bed. I freeze, trying to control my harsh breathing and praying I haven’t done anything embarrassing in my sleep.

I hold my breath and wait, but Ford doesn’t stir, and I nearly collapse with relief. The last thing I need is to explain why I just woke up from what was easily the most vivid, explicit dream of my entire life.

I’m still incredibly turned on, my body humming with unfulfilled need. It would probably only take a few touches to finish what my subconscious started, and god knows the ache between my legs is demanding attention.

But I don’t trust myself to stay quiet, not when I’m this wound up. And if Ford wakes up, even if I sneak into the bathroom, he’s going to ask questions I cannot answer. The humiliation of having to explain that I was getting myself off because of a dream about him and his business partners might actually kill me.

I have way too much restless energy to fall back asleep, though. Moving cautiously, I slip out of bed and grab the plush robe from the chair, pulling it on over my pajamas before tiptoeing out of the room.

The house feels different in the dead of night—bigger somehow, but also cozier because all the Christmas lights are still twinkling downstairs and outside. The warm glow fills me with a sense of wonder I haven’t felt in years, like I’m eight years old again, back before my father died and Christmas still felt like a magical time instead of just another day to get through.

The Christmas tree isn’t up yet, since Elaine wants us to decorate it together as one of the family holiday activities, but the lighted garlands wrapped around the staircase banister and the soft glow from the exterior lights still give off a cozy, festive feel.

I want to hold onto this feeling, this rare moment of peace and wonder, so I tiptoe through the foyer to the front door and crack it open just enough to peek out at the pristine snow blanketing the grounds and the star-studded sky above.

“Are you trying to freeze to death out here?”

I jump about three feet in the air and slap a hand over my mouth to muffle my startled squeak. Heart still racing, I quickly close the door and spin around to find Hayden standing in the shadows, a crystal tumbler of what looks like whiskey in his hand.

“You scared the shit out of me!” I hiss, trying to keep my voice low enough not to wake the entire house.

“You scared me first, creeping around like some kind of Christmas ghost.” His eyes rake over me, taking in my robe and bare feet. “What the hell were you doing opening the door?”

“I wanted to enjoy the winter wonderland, unlike some people who apparently prefer brooding in dark corners.”

I study the glass in Hayden’s hand with growing concern. It’s late—so late it’s technically early—and he’s down here drinking alone. His usually perfect posture is slightly relaxed, and there’s something almost vulnerable in his expression that I’ve never seen before. He doesn’t look drunk exactly, but the fact that he’s up nursing whiskey at this hour sends worry shooting through my chest.

“Well, unlike some people, I’m not skulking around about it.”

I roll my eyes. “Fine. Next time I’ll wear a bell around my neck like a cat so you have fair warning. Would that make you happy?”

Hayden actually snorts out a laugh, and I blink in genuine shock.

“What?” he asks, noticing my expression.

“Did you just… laugh? Like, an actual laugh?”

“I am capable of humor, you know.” There’s something almost defensive in his tone.

“Right. Sorry, it’s just—I’ve worked for you for two years. You treat laughter like it’s a communicable disease.”