25. Wren #3
In the half hour we have been playing this game, the temperature in the room has surged to heatwave levels, and I don’t believe I’m the only one who feels that way.
Huffing a breath, I mock-glare at Lucian. “I’m trying not to fall on my face.”
He laughs low in his throat. The sound vibrates through my spine, and the brush of his breath fans over my cheek as he shifts just slightly closer.
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, Little Moth,” he mutters with a hint of seduction. “Just know, I’m having as hard a time keeping my eyes off you.”
I feel the smirk, even without seeing it.
He presses in further, and the way we’ve all twisted ourselves, I’ve somehow ended up penned between him and Silas. So as I lean away, the heat of Silas’s body pushes against my side.
I’m caged in, the temperature climbing, and my breath is growing shallower by the minute. I no longer care about who wins, only about one of them—or ideally all of them—easing the ache that is building inside me.
My gaze drops to Lucian’s lips, soft and plump, mere inches from my face.
As if reading my mind, Lucian’s eyes zero in on my mouth, and his breathing hitches.
The two of us caught in a whirlwind entirely of our own making.
Nothing beyond us exists, and when he speaks, his words are barely a whisper brushing over my skin.
“If you’re waiting for permission, you should know by now that when it comes to you, the answer is always yes. ”
I don’t know if it is the desire in his voice or the blatant heat in his stare, but I do it.
I lean in, closing the distance until our lips touch.
Everything with Lucian is fire and passion, and his kiss is no different.
From the moment we collide, heat envelops me.
It races through my veins, burning me up from the inside out.
He allows me only a few seconds of control before he takes over, lifting my chin to deepen the kiss as his tongue slides into my mouth. I lose myself in him. In his touch. In the feel of him invading my system and making a permanent home there.
I’m so consumed by him that I fail to realize I’m off balance until I begin to topple.
Firm hands around my waist stabilize me, belonging to only one person.
Silas. They don’t let go, either. Instead, they roam over my lower back, exploring as I become more and more aware of Silas’s heat behind me.
I’m pressed between these two powerful hockey players who have done nothing but look out for me, protect me, from the moment they first found me.
I groan into Lucian’s mouth, the knowledge making me squirm.
The Twister mat crinkles beneath me as I stretch out my back, pushing my ass toward Silas while pressing forward to deepen Lucian’s kiss.
Heat builds. Sparks fly. I have never felt so consumed by another person as I do by these three guys.
Needing to touch Lucian, I lift my hand.
However, that disrupts the careful balance we had going.
I fall forward onto Lucian, my weight pushing him down onto the mat, as Silas follows.
The three of us collapse on top of one another in a fit of surprised laughter, Lucian’s arms around my waist, holding me tight, and Silas’s leg wedged between mine as he carefully keeps the full extent of his weight off me.
“I don’t think any of us won,” I chuckle.
“Won?” Lucian retorts, hot stare fixated on me, and lips bruised, “I don’t even remember what we were playing.” His hands tighten around me like he has no intention of letting me go. A promise he follows through on as he leans in to capture my lips again.
“Don’t even think about it.” Ronan’s authoritative tone slices through the moment. “I was two seconds away from dousing the three of you in ice water.”
Instead of looking chastised, Lucian barks a laugh.
“Bro, jealousy is not a good look on you.”
“I am not jealous,” Ronan protests, earning a chuckle from Silas. He reaches out a hand, and I disentangle myself from the knot of limbs as he helps me to my feet.
“Dude, you totally are.” Silas nods in agreement with Lucian as they both move to stand. “And it’s okay. I would be too.”
“Shut up, unless you want to be skating drills for the entirety of practice tomorrow.”
That only makes Lucian laugh harder.
Shaking his head, Ronan slips his arm around my waist as he guides me to the couch. Ducking his head, he whispers in my ear low enough that the others don’t hear, “Okay, maybe I am jealous. I’d just never admit it to Lucian. He’d hold it over my head for the rest of time.”
He steals the spot beside me on the couch as Silas drops into the armchair and Lucian sprawls out on the rug at my feet. Ronan cues up a movie, his thigh brushing mine, his fingers draped casually over my shoulders.
As the opening credits roll, I let myself lean back, a smile tugging at my lips. There’s no pressure here. No expectations. Just warmth. Laughter. Connection. A tangle of limbs and a tangle of hearts.
All I can think is: I don’t want to go home.