15. Grace
15
GRACE
T he second Mrs. Clarke walked out of the shop, I knew something was wrong.
It started as a slow burn, low in my stomach, before twisting sharp and fast. My legs felt weak. My skin too warm, too sensitive.
Instinctively, I called Jake.
Knowing he’ll come helps a bit. I grip the edge of the counter, breathing through it, willing it to pass.
It doesn’t.
I drop to the floor, pressing my forehead to my knees, biting my lip to keep quiet. If this keeps happening, I won’t be able to function.
A familiar scent floods the space before I even hear them. Jake and Rowan.
I look up, blinking through the haze, and there they are—standing in the doorway, their eyes sharp, taking me in.
Jake moves first, crouching in front of me. “What the hell, Grace?” His voice is tight. “I thought we handled this this morning.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, my hands clenching into fists. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
Rowan stands, arms crossed, his gaze flicking between me and Jake. “This isn’t normal.”
“No shit,” Jake mutters.
They start talking—about how rare this is, about what the hell they’re supposed to do next—but I can’t focus. My body is screaming for relief, every inch of me burning.
I squeeze my eyes shut, then snap, “Figure it out later. One of you had better help me. Now.”
A heavy silence. Then?—
“Oh. Right.” Rowan clears his throat, stepping forward.
Jake runs a hand through his hair, exhaling. “Take her to the back,” he says, already moving to lock the door.
Rowan hauls me up, his grip strong. I lean into him as he guides me to the back of Haven’s Nook, where the scent of flowers lingers thick in the air. The space is cozy—wooden shelves filled with vases and supplies, a few chairs pushed against the wall, a small couch.
I barely register any of it. My focus is on the way Rowan’s fingers tighten around my waist, the way his touch sends heat sparking under my skin.
He steadies me in front of him, his hands settling on my hips.
“Grace,” he murmurs, searching my face.
“Rowan.” My breath comes quick. “Please.”
His jaw tics. Then he reaches for the buttons of my jumpsuit, popping them open one by one. His fingers trail down my stomach, making me shudder.
Jake steps behind me, his warmth pressing close. “This isn’t safe with all the Alphas in town,” he mutters.
“I don’t care,” I whisper. “I swear to God, if one of you doesn’t?—”
Jake chuckles, low and rough. “So demanding.”
Rowan pushes the fabric off my shoulders, letting it slide down my arms, pooling at my feet. I stand there in just my bra and panties—pink, lace-trimmed, barely there.
Rowan’s knuckles graze my stomach. A sharp gasp leaves me.
His voice is a low growl. “I can smell how bad you need this.”
“Please,” I whimper.
“Ready?” Rowan asks, voice gravelly.
I nod, swallowing hard.
His hands find my waist, pulling me between his legs as he sits back against the chair. One hand trails lower, slipping past the lace. He groans.
Jake curses behind me. “So wet.”
I gasp as he slides a palm over my stomach, then higher, pushing my bra down. His fingers brush over my breasts, teasing, his lips ghosting against my shoulder.
A shiver rolls through me as Rowan watches, steely gray eyes dark, his breath uneven.
“You good?” I start to ask, but my words are cut off as his fingers stroke lower, sliding over my folds, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through me.
All my thoughts scatter. My knees weaken. I lean into Jake as Rowan unravels me completely.
Heat licks up my spine, pooling low in my stomach, pulsing, insistent. My breath is uneven, body burning. There’s slick between my thighs.
Rowan’s thumb brushes over my clit as two of his fingers slide into me. I gasp.
He curls his fingers, pulling them out and then thrusting them even deeper. Jake pinches my nipples.
I am overstimulated and overwhelmed by their hands on me.
“Good girl,” Rowan groans. “Soak my hand just like that.”
I moan. Jake slides his mouth over my neck, finding my pulse point and sucking.
I am so close I can almost taste it.
“Right there,” I moan, my hands digging into Jake’s thighs. Rowan looks up at me, smirks, and pulls his fingers out. Then, in one quick motion, he pushes them in to the hilt.
I convulse, clenching around him as I come. But the release is short-lived, barely quenching my heat as I ride his fingers.
“More, more,” I beg and plead as his thumb brushes over my clit.
When he pulls out his fingers, Jake slides his tongue into my mouth. I need more.
The high of my orgasm is already evaporating.
It’s not enough. Not even close.
Rowan pulls back suddenly, chest rising and falling, fingers flexing at his sides. “I—” He swallows. “I can’t. I’m too wound up.”
Jake steps in immediately, hand sliding down my arm. “I’ve got her.”
He leads me to the couch, nudging me to sit before kneeling between my legs. The anticipation is unbearable.
A sharp tug and my panties are gone.
Then Jake is there, mouth hot, tongue wicked, working me open.
I arch, gasping, hands fisting in his hair.
Rowan sits beside me, thighs spread wide, watching. His scent thickens, unmistakable, his arousal potent. My gaze drops to his lap, to the obvious strain beneath his jeans.
I meet his eyes. “Take it out.”
Rowan hesitates, then unzips, freeing himself. He’s thick, flushed, leaking. My breath stutters.
He takes my hand, guiding it to him, and together, we stroke.
Jake growls against me. “Fuck. You just got wetter.”
I whimper, overwhelmed, undone, body shaking.
The room is filled with the slick sounds of Jake’s mouth, of Rowan’s rough breaths.
Then Jake pinches my clit, and the world tilts.
I break apart, shattering, and as I do, Rowan yanks me into him, crushing his mouth to mine for the first time. It’s wild, consuming. I melt, moaning into him.
Still, it’s not enough.
Jake stands, lips glossy, jaw clenched. “Your turn,” he tells Rowan.
Rowan’s pupils blow wide.
They switch.
Jake pulls me into his lap, hands roaming as he kisses me, deep and messy.
Rowan kneels now, replacing Jake, his breath hot against my thighs before his mouth seals over me.
I cry out, fingers twisting in his hair as he works me over, unrelenting.
Jake grips my waist, steadying me as my thighs shake, trapping Rowan’s head between them.
He doesn’t stop.
It’s too much.
I break, body writhing, breath stolen, vision blurred.
Jake groans my name, shuddering as he spills, muscles tightening.
Rowan pulls back, licking his lips, his own release spreading across his stomach.
I exhale shakily. “Fuck.”
Jake lets out a rough laugh. “Fuck, indeed.”
The air is thick with the scent of sex and them. It’s too much.
I move to stand, legs weak.
“Wait,” Rowan murmurs. “Let me clean you up.”
I nod, dazed, sinking back down.
Jake takes my hand. “You okay?”
“For now,” I whisper.
He presses a kiss to my palm. “We need a long-term solution. Not that I mind being at your beck and call.”
Rowan returns with wipes, gently cleaning me up, his touch lingering. His gaze lifts to mine, serious.
“It’s high time we consider the other option.”
My stomach twists. “Which is?”
Rowan’s jaw ticks. “Knotting.”
I glance at Jake.
He just shrugs. “He’s got a point.”
Well, fuck my life. I guess it is about time I actually consider losing my virginity now.