Chapter 43
Chapter Forty-Three
EMILIA
I wasn’t sure how I ended up on the kitchen counter.
One second, I was dragging myself down the hall in one of their oversized shirts — the next, Luca had lifted me, set me on the marble like I was breakable, and stood between my knees like he had no intention of moving.
Bastion stood at the stove, shirtless, flipping pancakes like it wasn’t driving me insane how domestic he looked doing it.
His tattoos flexed across his back with every movement.
The same hands that had pinned me hours ago now handled a spatula with casual confidence.
“You’re staring,” Luca murmured, brushing a thumb under my chin.
I blinked up at him. “No, I’m not.”
“You are,” he smirked. “But it’s okay. I was too.”
“Pancakes are a turn-on now?”
“No,” he said, leaning in so only I could hear, “ you are.”
His fingers slipped under the hem of the shirt I wore — his shirt — and paused just above the tops of my thighs.
I shifted on the cold marble and instantly regretted it.
Luca grinned, watching my wince. “Still sore? ”
“Luca—”
“Answer the question, baby.”
My cheeks flushed. “Yes.”
His eyes darkened like he liked that answer a little too much.
“ Good. ”
“You’re insufferable.”
“And you love it.”
He pressed a kiss to my bare thigh. “I like seeing you like this. Wrecked. Satisfied. Ours. ”
I bit my lip.
Behind him, Bastion glanced over his shoulder. “You planning on letting her eat, or are you just going to keep corrupting her on the countertop?”
Luca didn’t even blink. “She likes it here.”
“She’s sore, Luca.”
“I’m being gentle, ” he said innocently. Then, turning back to me, added, “Aren’t I?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re trying to make me blush in front of your brother.”
“Correction,” he whispered, voice lower, lips brushing the shell of my ear. “I’m trying to make you squirm. The blushing is just a bonus.”
“Luca,” I warned.
“Hmm?”
“ Breakfast, ” I said. “Now. Before I accidentally knee you.”
He chuckled and stepped back just enough to let me slide down from the counter.
Except I didn’t land on the floor.
I landed in Bastion’s arms.
His hand curled around my waist, anchoring me against him .
“You okay, baby?” he murmured, kissing the top of my head.
I nodded, resting against his bare chest. “Just hungry.”
“Pancakes are almost ready.”
He glanced down, smirking. “And you’re not wearing anything under this shirt, are you?”
“Nope,” Luca answered for me, grinning as he grabbed plates.
Bastion exhaled through his nose like he was trying to be a better man.
Then he kissed the back of my neck. “You’re gonna be the death of us.”
I reached for the chair at the table — and froze.
The dull ache in my thighs — and the way my body still trembled from the night before — said nope.
Bastion noticed immediately.
His voice was quiet, close behind me. “Don’t.”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly.
But my hand braced harder on the edge of the table.
“You’re not,” Luca said, already seated with his coffee, his eyes watching me like I was made of glass. “C’mere, baby.”
“I can sit.”
“Not today.”
Bastion’s arm slid around my waist before I could argue again.
And then I was being lifted.
Not like I was fragile —
But like I was his.
He carried me the short distance to Luca’s chair, and Luca opened his arms without hesitation, spreading his knees wider as Bastion gently lowered me down — into his lap.
My stomach fluttered .
“You’re ridiculous,” I mumbled, settling as comfortably as I could. “I could’ve just?—”
“Shhh,” Luca murmured, wrapping one arm around my waist, the other reaching for the fork on the plate Bastion had just set down. “Let us take care of you.”
He speared a piece of pancake and held it up.
I blinked. “Are you seriously?—”
“Open.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“Watching you squirm and blush while I feed you in my lap?” His voice was smug. “Yeah. I really am.”
I opened my mouth — mostly to argue — but he took it as obedience, sliding the bite between my lips.
His hand never left my waist.
Bastion sat across from us, sipping his coffee.
But his gaze flicked over me more than once — lingering at my thighs, the stretch of his shirt over my skin, the fading marks on my neck.
“You look good like that,” he said after a beat. “Wearing my shirt. Letting us take care of you.”
I swallowed. “You two are going to get cocky.”
Luca kissed the side of my jaw. “We already are.”
Bastion raised a brow. “Only because you make it impossible not to be.”
I looked between them — the gentle teasing, the quiet worship, the constant claiming —
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel caught between two forces.
I felt… held.
Fed. Anchored. Watched.
“Finish your breakfast,” Luca whispered, lips against my temple. “Then maybe we’ll get you back to bed.”
“For more sleep?”
He smirked — voice low, sinful. “ Sure. ”