Chapter 48 Beau
Chapter forty-eight
Beau
Abigail’s hands twist nervously at the cuffs of her sweater.
It’s a small thing. Barely there. But it tells on her in a way the steady lift of her chest can’t hide.
Each breath she takes is deeper than the last, her lungs pulling in air like she needs more of it now than she did before she closed that door.
Anticipation does that to people.
Her cheeks are flushed pink, color high and warm beneath her eyes, and I watch as her thighs press together ever so slightly in excitement.
She looks impossibly soft standing there, hair loose past her shoulders, lips parted, like she wants to speak but can’t figure out what to say with all four of us in front of her. But her choice has already been made. I saw it in her eyes the second she stepped into this room.
No one moves.
Not right away.
I think it’s because we all feel it. The shift. That quiet, irreversible click into place.
This isn’t like before. When it was just me and Lawson and her, there was heat, yeah. Desire. Hunger. But it had edges. Something unspoken we could back away from if we had to.
But this?
This feels like stepping off a ledge together.
There will be no going back.
Ever.
I glance sideways without moving my head.
Lawson’s standing near the dresser, broad shoulders filling the space, unable to take his eyes off of her.
Not in that sharp, assessing way you might mistake for hunger, but something deeper.
Something desperate to lock this moment away because he already knows nothing will ever look the same again.
Lincoln stands closer to the bed. Posture calm and controlled.
But I know him well enough to see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flex at his side like it’s taking everything in him not pounce on her.
Lincoln looks at her like she’s something fragile and fierce all at once.
Acutely aware of the fact that in this room, he wants control of her almost as much as he wants to worship her.
Jasper’s the only one leaning back. His shoulder against the wall, arms crossed loosely over his chest. But his eyes give him away. They’re bright and locked on her. Tracking every movement she makes. Desperate to see as much of her as possible.
None of us talked about this.
We didn’t have to.
Living together does that to you. Years of shared space, shared silences, shared battles. You learn how to read the air. How to feel when something’s coming before it ever arrives.
And this has been a long time coming.
Abigail swallows, throat bobbing as her gaze moves between each of us. Slowly. Intentionally.
I straighten first, pushing up from where I’d been leaning against the footboard of Linc’s bed. The movement draws her attention, her eyes flicking to me instinctively. I give her a small smile before Lawson moves next.
He reaches for the hem of his shirt and pulls it up and over his head in one smooth motion.
His chest is solid and familiar, the same brand I wear on my chest on his.
And when I look back at Abigail, I watch as she sighs with relief that he and I were the first to move.
Because we’ve been here before, the three of us.
It feels familiar.
Then, Lincoln follows without a word.
He unbuttons his shirt carefully, each movement deliberate.
No rush. No show. And when he shrugs it off his shoulders, I see Abigail’s breath hitch—just a little.
His skin catches in the light, all quiet strength and restraint, and when he steps closer to the bed, it feels like he’s claiming his space.
Jasper’s last as he hooks his thumbs into the collar of his black T-shirt and pulls it free, tossing it aside carelessly.
The motion is casual, but the way his gaze never leaves her isn’t.
There’s something raw there. Something reverent.
Like, even he understands this isn’t about speed or fire or losing control.
It’s about being seen.
Abigail’s chest rises and falls faster now, but she doesn’t back away or fold in on herself.
She stands tall, just like she did all those months ago when I met her outside that airport.
And that’s the answer any of us needs.
Lawson is the one who moves first.
Not because he’s the boldest or the loudest. But because he’s the anchor.
He crosses the room slowly, feet padding against the floor, and stops just in front of her. Close enough that she has to tilt her head all the way back to look up at him. Close enough that I see her fingers curl tighter into her sleeves, resisting the urge to reach out.
Lawson lifts a hand, but doesn’t touch her yet.
He just hovers. Giving her space to pull away.
And even I find myself holding my breath in anticipation.
She leans in, barely an inch, and the moment his palm finally settles on her waist, I know.
This is it.
This is the fall.
The point of no return.
I watch as Lawson leans forward, his mouth eager to kiss hers, but smile to myself when she holds up a finger, stopping him in his tracks.
There she is. My feisty girl.
I curl my lips in as she leans to the side, allowing herself to look at all of us. “I swear to god, if a single one of you treats me like I’ll break, none of you will get any of this.” She turns her finger around and motions up and down her body.
Jasper snorts and holds up his hands. “As you wish, Red.”
A sinister smile crawls across Lincoln’s face. “You should know better than that by now, Sweetheart. I think you and I proved you’re anything but.”
Her smile grows, and she narrows her eyes at him before looking at me. “Message received loud and clear, Darlin.”
Then she stands up straight and looks back up at Lawson. “How about you, cowboy? Am I clear?”
He hums. The sound is low. Hungry. “Crystal.”
“Good.” Her hand finds the waistband of his pants, before she pulls him tight against her. “Then you may resume.”
Lawson chuckles. And then, his mouth crashes against hers.
I watch with rapt attention as the two of them devour one another, my cock growing harder in my pants by the second. And when Lawson pulls off Abigail’s sweater, a low groan rumbles from Lincoln’s chest, and when Lawson unbuttons her jeans and starts working them over her hips, Jasper snaps.
“Fuck it,” he says before crossing the room in three determined strides.
My eyes don’t leave them as Jasper stands behind Abbie and works her jeans off her.
They don’t leave them as Lawson and Jas free themselves of the rest of their clothes.
They don’t leave them as Lawson literally rips her panties from her body before biting at her nipple through the red lace of her bra.
And they don’t leave them as Jasper spins her around, pushes her to her knees, and slides his cock into her mouth, all while Lawson fists her red strands.
As a matter of fact, my eyes don’t leave the three of them until Lincoln’s voice cuts through their sounds of pleasure, and when I look at him, I find he’s just as naked as the three of them. “Bring her to the bed,” he says, his voice now rough with desire.
Jasper’s nostrils flare, and his jaw clenches as he slides himself to the back of Abigail’s throat for one long moment before he exhales a shaky breath and grabs her under the arms. He lifts her from the floor, causing Lawson to break his hold on her hair, and she instinctively wraps her legs around him as he carries her to the bed.
Following behind, Lawson shares a long look with his brother, then over to me.
One that says, “Take her. Own her. Worship her. But… be careful.”
“This has gotta go,” Jasper murmurs while kissing along her jaw and down her neck, all while removing her bra and throwing across the room.
There’s a brief moment where I recognize the clothes lying haphazardly across Lincoln’s room, and I smile to myself when I realize I don’t have the compulsive urge to clean it all up. To make everything “just so.”
“God, Jas,” Abigail moans, drawing my attention back to where she is on the bed. Her hands are curled in Jasper’s hair, and her head is tipped back. The ends of her auburn strands dust the bedding while Jas tugs at her nipples with his teeth.
A split second later, Jasper’s situating himself so he’s leaning against Lincoln’s headboard, his legs spread wide. He moves his fingers in a come-hither motion and utters, “Crawl to me, Abbie Girl.”