Chapter 13 #3
He ties the shirt around his waist like a makeshift skirt, and the crowd cheers again.
Mason follows suit, pulling off his to reveal equally impressive abs and chest, tying it around himself.
Now they’re both shirtless, wearing shirt-skirts over boxers, and boots. They grab their wallets and keys.
“You ready to keep the party going?” Mason asks, grinning my way.
“Absolutely,” I manage, my voice slightly strangled.
That’s when I notice Nina is definitely with that guy with the dark hair now. He’s whispering something in her ear that leaves her giggling, his arm around her waist.
I drift over, leaning into her ear. “That’s not your ex, is it?”
“God, no.” She grins. “This is Oliver. We’re… friends.”
“Close friends,” Oliver adds with a sly smile.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask quietly.
“More than okay. You go take care of your boys.” She winks. “I might be with Oliver tonight.”
I hug her, breathing in whatever floral scent she always seems wrapped in. “Let me know if you need anything, and text me if you leave the bar, tell me where you go.”
She laughs, cupping my cheek like I’m fussing too much. “I love how protective you are. Now go with your men.”
Before I can step away, Mason appears at my left and Dylan at my right, sliding in like they’ve always belonged pressed against me. Mason hooks his fingers through mine. Dylan takes my other hand, warm and careless and smug about it.
“We’re gonna need clothes if we’re partying anywhere else tonight,” Mason says, already tugging.
“Yup,” Dylan agrees. “Preferably ones that won’t get us arrested for indecent exposure.”
I blink up at them. “You want me to come with you to change?”
“Obviously,” Mason says, like that was never a question.
“Unless you’re trying to ditch us.” Dylan narrows his eyes in mock offense.
“I can wait here,” I offer weakly, but my feet are already moving, my body leaning into the pull of them like gravity. Their hands are hot.
“Too late,” Mason says with a grin.
“You’re ours now,” Dylan adds, voice low, coaxing.
“I can walk on my own, you know,” I say, half laughing as I try to twist free, not seriously, not really wanting to. They know it.
Dylan only tightens his hold, brushing his knuckles against my wrist. “Yeah, but this is more fun.”
Mason shoots me a wicked sideways smile. They sweep me outside, and my pulse kicks up like I’ve been caught doing something sinful. I should pull away, but I don’t. My body hums between them, strung tight, wanting.
Outside, the cold air snaps around me, and I realize Mason and Dylan are essentially half naked in near-freezing temperatures.
There’s a cop leaning against his cruiser, arms crossed, shaking his head as we approach.
“Evening, Officer,” Mason says cheerfully.
“Boys.” The cop, middle-aged, graying at the temples, looking entirely too amused, eyes their makeshift clothing. “Sure hope you’re not planning to drive home if you’ve had too much to drink.”
“We were going to call someone,” Dylan starts.
“I can drive,” I offer. “I only had one drink.”
The cop pulls out a Breathalyzer. “Let’s make sure.”
I blow into it, and it comes back way below the limit. He nods his approval.
“Here are my keys,” Mason says, then grins. We find the truck, a massive deep-red four-wheel drive that looks like it could crush smaller vehicles.
“You sure you can drive this thing?” Mason asks as I stand next to it, realizing it’s significantly taller than me.
“How hard can it be?” Famous last words.
I unlock it with a click and open the door.
Then I climb up into the driver’s seat, using the running boards, and immediately realize this vehicle is ridiculous.
The steering wheel is huge. The dashboard has more buttons than an airplane cockpit.
And the hood extends so far I can barely see where it ends.
Mason climbs into the passenger seat beside me, and Dylan gets in the back, leaning forward between the seats so he’s close to both of us.
I start the engine, and it rumbles to life with a deep growl that vibrates through the entire cab. I adjust the seat, pulling myself forward more to reach the pedals and lifting the chair for an easier view. Pushing it into reverse, I slowly pull out of the parking lot.
“Easy,” Dylan says, watching me wrestle with the steering wheel.
“This thing is a tank,” I mutter.
“Best truck money can buy,” Mason says proudly.
The drive is nerve-racking at first. The truck handles differently than any vehicle I’ve driven, especially on the winding roads leading away from The Timber Den.
But the guys are being surprisingly patient, offering gentle directions, and gradually I relax into it.
That’s when I notice how they’re both watching me.
Mason’s eyes are on my hands gripping the wheel, on the way my arms flex as I turn. Dylan is leaning forward enough that I sense his breath on my neck.
“You look good behind the wheel,” Mason states, his voice lower now.
“Yeah?” I keep my eyes on the road, but I’m blushing.
“Real good,” Dylan confirms. “Confident. In control. It’s sexy as fuck.”
Heat floods through me. “You two are going to cause problems for me.”
“Says the woman who hustled us at pool and made us run nearly naked around the table,” Mason points out.
I laugh. “You agreed to it.”
“And it was worth it. Watching you move around that table, bending over, teasing us. You knew exactly what you were doing.”
“Maybe,” I admit.
We’re climbing now, leaving the town behind, winding up a hilly road that offers glimpses of lights below through the trees.
“So, Anita,” Dylan says, his voice dropping to that rumbling bass that makes everything inside me clench. “You ever been with two Alphas at once?”
The question hangs in the air, and I nearly swerve off the road.
“Careful,” Mason says, steadying the wheel with one hand over mine.
His touch burns, and I have to swallow hard before I can answer. “No. Can’t say I have.”
“But you’ve thought about it,” Dylan adds. Not a question. A statement.
I glance at him in the rearview mirror, and the heat in his eyes steals my breath. “Maybe. Once or twice.”
“Interesting.” Mason’s hand is still on mine on the steering wheel, his thumb stroking slowly across my knuckles.
Dylan’s hand appears on my shoulder.
“Because we’ve been imagining too. All night. Watching you in those jeans, that top. The way you moved and flirted. And we loved every second of it.”
A sharp breath catches in my throat. Heat races down my spine, pooling low and fast, and suddenly the truck feels way too small, like their words are hands, sliding under my clothes.
“I didn’t flirt,” I say, which would sound more convincing if my voice didn’t come out breathy.
Mason snorts. “Angel, you were killing us in there.”
I glare, but it’s weak. “I was being friendly.”
Dylan leans in, voice brushing my ear like a mouth. “Friendly doesn’t make a whole room stop and stare.”
My pulse speeds up. I should laugh it off and tell them to cut it out. Instead, something reckless purrs awake inside me that’s been locked up way too long.
Because they’re right. I was flirting because I loved the way they stared at me.
I glance between these two gorgeous men who burn hotter than fire, and every red flag in my brain waves frantically. Going home with them is a bad idea. The kind of story that starts with a missing shoe and ends in someone’s bedroom.
But I’m tired of being sensible.
Of overthinking and protecting myself from everything before it even happens.
Nina is out there somewhere at the bar, having the time of her life with a guy who might as well be a pop star. And for once… I want to do something wild, stupid, uncalculated.
Just because it feels good. I straighten, chin lifting. “Maybe I enjoyed the attention,” I admit.
Mason grins like I handed him the keys to the kingdom. “Good,” he murmurs. “Means we’re on the same page.”
We’re pulling up to a house now, more like a mansion actually, which is enormous, modern, perched on the hillside with huge windows that probably catch the sunrise and show off every inch of the valley below.
“Fuck,” I breathe, staring. “You live here?”
“Home sweet home,” Dylan says. “Come inside?”
I should say no and call an Uber. “Just for a bit.”
“Sure,” Mason says, way too easily, a knowing smile curving his lips.
We pile out of the truck, and I hand Mason the keys, then follow them to the huge, wooden front door.
Dylan produces a key and leads us inside.
My mouth drops open. Large floor plan with soaring ceilings, exposed beams, floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall. The furniture is modern with a massive sectional, an oversized stone fireplace, artwork everywhere. Warm. Expensive. Gorgeous.
“Wow,” I breathe, still staring.
Dylan laughs softly behind me. He seems pleased, like he helped build the place with his bare hands. “You like it?” he asks.
“I love it,” I admit, then glance around. “Are the other guys home too?”
“Slater and Jasper are out,” Mason explains. He moves deeper into the house. “Some meeting about the harbor expansion. Won’t be back for hours.”
A pulse flickers low in my stomach. Hours. Alone. Just the three of us.
“Let me grab some pants,” Dylan says, jogging down the hallway. Mason follows him, leaving me standing in the entryway with my thoughts spiraling.
What am I doing here?
I should leave. At least pretend like I have self-control. Instead, I wander toward the windows. Outside is nothing but night and the faint outline of pines. I can’t see the view, but I imagine sunlight spilling across the town, water, mountains. I imagine waking up here. Not alone.
Their footsteps return. When I spin around to face them, my breath jolts. Sweatpants now. Gray on Mason. Black on Dylan. Bare feet whispering across the hardwood. Still shirtless and carved from temptation.
Heat crawls up my neck. My chest. Lower.