Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Isla
“Don’t make me do it for you.”
The casual threat in Dorian’s voice sends a chill down my spine.
No matter how hard I try to make myself move, I can’t.
“Isla…”
Chaos is churning inside me, and Dorian’s warning echoes in my ears. Having Brennan so close is making the knot in my chest tighten.
“Shall I do it for you?” He takes another step toward me.
His action finally jolts me from my trance. “I…” My voice shakes, but I try again. “I’m confused.”
“About?” With surprising patience, he tips his head to one side.
“What do you mean, ‘honeymoon for three’?”
Dorian moves even closer.
His nearness overwhelms me, and fear finally makes me take a step back. Damn him for being so gorgeous.
“I’ll be very clear. Brennan and I share everything.” His tone is low and uncompromising, filled with determination and intent. “Business. Loyalty.” Pausing, he rakes his hot gaze down my body. “Pleasure.”
I sneak a look at Brennan. He’s folded his arms across his chest, and he’s studying me. The scar slicing his eyebrow seems even more ominous now.
“You,” Dorian finishes.
Swallowing hard, I return my focus to Dorian. I’m fighting to understand him because there’s no way he can expect me to sleep with his best man. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I think you do.” His statement sends a shiver racing down my spine that’s equal parts dread and danger. “But I’ll spell it out so that I’m absolutely clear.”
He reaches for me, and I stumble back.
Instantly he captures my shoulders, steadying me. His grip makes my heart race ten times faster.
“In the eyes of the law, you’re my wife.”
I wriggle, frantic to escape, but his grip is like a vice, and I’m no match for him.
“But you will belong to both of us.”
I shake my head. “I…” The words I want to say catch in my throat. He does intend for me to sleep with both of them.
Embarrassment floods through me, and I retreat to looking at the situation academically. “In our everyday lives? Sharing a bedroom? A checking account? Chores?” How can anything like this even be possible?
“All of that. Yes.” He moves his hands from my shoulders to frame my face in a way that’s somehow even more dominant than the way he has been holding me. “We’ll both be making love to you, Isla.” Even though he’s speaking softly, his words are uncompromising. “Starting tonight.”
I take a tiny breath .
“We’ll take you together—slowly, thoroughly—until you know you’re ours. And after that…” He pauses and traces my bottom lip with a thumbnail. “We’ll continue on with our honeymoon.”
So he meant what he said. All three of us are going together.
Suddenly the fact that Brennan had cut in on the first dance that I’d been sharing with Dorian makes sense.
The two had obviously prearranged the whole thing.
They’d shown everyone I belonged to both of them, only I’d been too stupidly naive to see it.
“Afterward we’ll share a life. A home. The relationship is no less real just because the three of us haven’t signed a paper together. You’ll belong to us in every way possible. In return, we’ll give you everything you ever dreamed of.”
Except my freedom.
Brennan takes a few steps until he’s standing next to us. “Our relationship will be unconventional.”
“To say the least.” And confusing as hell.
“Dorian is right,” he goes on. “We’ll care for you, Isla. Protect you. Every day, every night—together.”
My heart slams against my ribs as this incomprehensible arrangement starts to sink in.
Until Dorian dragged me down the hallway after our wedding, I hadn’t been touched, except for a fumbling kiss in college that ended in awkward silence. And now Dorian expects me to surrender to two men at the same time?
The realization makes me dizzy.
Yesterday morning, I’d been a single woman, happily living with my cat, surrounded by books and focused on my academics. And now I’m expected to deal with the fact I have more than one husband?
The change is so startling that it’s almost too much to take in .
I want to push back, to scream that I didn’t choose this, but I did.
When he lifted the veil and saw I lied to him, I begged him to go through with the ceremony.
“Any more questions?” Dorian asks.
“No.” But… I worry my lower lip. “There’s something else you need to know.”
He exchanges a glance with Brennan.
Without any finesse, I blurt out, “I’ve never…done this before.”
“A threesome, you mean?” he asks.
“I haven’t been with anyone before.” The confession burns, humiliation scalding my throat.
Dorian freezes, his storm-gray eyes flaring wide for a heartbeat. Brennan’s head jerks toward him, a silent jolt passing between them—shock, pure and unguarded.
“You’re a virgin?” Dorian demands.
Unable to find any more words, I settle for nodding.
Dorian’s jaw clenches, and a soft, “Fuck,” slips out. “Damn it, Isla. What a beautiful, unexpected surprise.”
Before I can catch my breath, he leans in, his lips capturing mine in a kiss—soft, deliberate, tasting of whiskey and intent.
It’s not the fierce claim from earlier but a tender press, lingering and warm, a distraction that melts the edges of my panic.
My knees wobble, and I sway into him, caught off guard by the unexpected gentleness.
He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine.
His tenderness is not something I would have ever expected.
“We’ll take care of you—I promise you that.” His thumbs brush my cheekbones in a slow, steady sweep, grounding me as my pulse stutters .
Years seem to have been removed from his face, making him seem less threatening.
Should this change frighten me even more? A Dorian I actually like could be much more dangerous than one I’m wary of.
“You’re safe with us.”
Brennan slides his hand onto my lower back. “We’ll go at your pace.”
Not that I even know what that is.
“Let’s go into the bedroom.”
My heart begins racing once more, and I blow out a breath to steady myself.
Dorian heads down the hallway, and I follow, my footsteps short. Brennan is right behind me.
When I reach the middle of the room, I stop. Part of me wishes I had any experience to call on, that I could pretend to be confident or at least less panicked than I am right now.
Like he had earlier, Dorian traces my cheekbones. “Relax, Isla.”
Easy for him to say.
He doesn’t have two large men wanting to claim him.
Moments later, his lips brush mine again—soft at first, seeking rather than demanding.
My shoulders loosen a little.
“That’s it. Give yourself over to me.”
Unlike earlier, when I was alone with Dorian, Brennan comes in closer. Instinctively I stiffen a little.
But he places his palm on my lower back, his fingers splayed in a way that feels oddly protective.
I catch his scent—spice and warm night air—and I breathe it in.
Maybe taking advantage of the fact I’m a little distracted, Dorian deepens the kiss. This isn’t the raw, consuming fire from earlier, but a deliberate tease that he slowly builds into something deeper.
Warmth begins to spread through me, and I can’t hold back my soft sigh.
Despite myself, I bring up my hands and rest them on his broad chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath my palms.
When he pulls back, his eyes are dark gray. “You’re ours, Isla. And we take care of what belongs to us.”
I shiver. There’s no way I should trust them. So why am I starting to?
“We want to see you.”
I breathe deeply. Of course they’d expect that. They’re not the kind of men who’d allow their wife to dive under the covers and turn off the lights.
Dorian reaches for the knot in my belt and tugs it open. Then Brennan pushes the terry cloth material back from my shoulders and allows it to fall to the floor, leaving me standing in front of them in only my bra and panties.
Even though Dorian had lifted the hem of my dress earlier and slid his hand inside the bodice, this is different. I’m totally exposed to them.
Brennan sweeps his gaze over my body. “Beautiful.”
Shaking my head, I scoff at his pretty, required compliment.
I’m more than a little aware of my faults. After all, they’d been pointed out to me my entire life.
I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t compared to Margaux, who truly is beautiful.
As for me, I’m too tall. Not athletic enough.
God forbid, I am not even passable at tennis, and I am barely competent on the piano.
My hair is an unruly disaster, I prefer to be alone, and I don’t have any of the womanly curves that my mother insisted my husband would want .
“He meant it.” Dorian captures my chin and tips it back. “You are beautiful.”
Because good manners have been drilled into me since birth, I force a smile, hoping they can’t see how fragile it is. “That’s very nice of you to say.” To lie, even though you don’t need to.
“Guess we need to prove it to her,” Brennan says.
Has this been part of their strategy to get women into bed with them? Flattery?
Dorian shrugs out of his jacket. “Finish undressing me.” His voice lacks the command that it usually has; instead, there’s a quiet intimacy in it.
Will he expect this in the future? Part of my wifely duties? Though I’ve had no experience with BDSM, I’ve read plenty of books that contain it. No literature degree is complete without it. And so I know that some Dominants have acts-of-service expectations for their submissives.
It’s one thing for me to do this tonight, but I don’t want to do it on a regular basis.
My hand shakes as I reach for his bowtie.
I tug on the silk, and I drop it on the end of the bed, a splash of pure black on the pristine white duvet cover.
“Keep going,” Dorian encourages.
My pulse skips around as I undo the next button of his shirt, revealing more of his taut chest—smooth, golden, a faint scar curving beneath his collarbone.
I blink up at him. I’m not surprised by Brennan’s eyebrow scar, but seeing such a large one on Dorian’s body catches me off guard.
Unthinkingly I reach to trace it, and he captures my wrist.
“That’s…”