Chapter 33 Delaney
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Delaney
By evening, the cabin is warm in that slow, creeping way that gets under your skin. Fire popping softly. Lamplight low. A couple of drinks in, just enough to loosen my limbs without dulling anything important.
Which might be the problem.
Because everything feels sharper instead of softer.
Boone sits across from me, solid and quiet, his presence a weight I can feel even when he’s not looking at me.
Caleb’s near the window, arms folded, attention drifting but never really leaving.
Silas keeps moving, restless energy circling the room, refilling glasses, leaning too close, smiling like he knows something I don’t.
Or maybe something I do.
I told myself this trip was about talking. About clarity. About fixing what got tangled.
I did not tell myself how impossible it would be to sit in a room with all three of them and pretend my body doesn’t remember.
Every time Boone’s gaze slides to mine, my breath catches. Not because he’s doing anything overt, he isn’t, but because he’s not doing anything. He’s holding himself still, a man standing at the edge of a line he refuses to cross unless invited.
That should make this easier.
It doesn’t.
It makes it unbearable.
I feel it in my chest, tight and restless. In my hands, itching for something to do. In the way my thoughts keep looping back to the same awareness: nothing is actually resolved. I said we should keep things professional, but I never said I didn’t want them.
I was just afraid.
Boone stands to toss another log on the fire, and the movement pulls my attention like a magnet. The stretch of his shoulders. The flex of his forearms. The way the firelight catches the angles of his face.
My insides snap. Decisively.
I set my glass down before I can talk myself out of it.
Before I can remember all the reasons this is complicated.
I cross the room on legs that feel steadier than I expect, stop in front of Boone while he’s still half turned toward the fire.
He looks at me, surprised flickering briefly across his face before it settles into a darkness.
“Delaney?” he says quietly.
I don’t answer.
I reach up, fingers curling into the front of his shirt, feeling his breath hitch under my hand. The contact sends a jolt straight through me, like my body’s been waiting for permission.
“I said we should be professional,” I groan. “And I meant it when I said it.”
His jaw tightens. “Okay.”
“But I didn’t say I could pretend this isn’t here.”
I tip my head up, close enough now that I can feel his heat, his breath, the way he’s holding himself back with sheer will.
“So this,” I whisper, “is me not pretending.”
And then I kiss him.
I press my mouth to his with intention, with choice, with the full weight of I am doing this behind it.
Boone makes a sound in his throat that’s half restraint, half surrender. His hands hover for a split second, waiting, and when I slide my palms up his chest, giving him silent permission, he groans and pulls me in.
The kiss is deep and overwhelming. Heavy with everything we didn’t say earlier.
I cling to him like I might float away otherwise, my chest tight, breath coming fast. The room tilts, heat pooling low in my body, my skin buzzing as if I’ve stepped into a live wire.
Behind me, the air changes.
Silas moves closer. I don’t see it, but I feel that electric presence at my back, his breath warm near my ear.
“Well,” he murmurs softly, approval threaded through the word. “That answers that.”
I should laugh.
Instead, my breath stutters.
Caleb’s hand settles at my waist then, anchoring me without taking control. The contact sends a different kind of shiver through me, intimate, dangerous in its own way.
I pull back from Boone just enough to breathe, forehead resting against his, my hands still fisted in his shirt.
“This doesn’t mean I have answers,” I say quietly. “It just means I couldn’t keep lying to myself.”
Boone’s thumb brushes my cheek. “That’s enough.”
Silas presses a kiss to my temple. Caleb’s grip tightens just a fraction, his presence solid at my back.
I’m surrounded.
My lungs burn, not from lack of air, but from the intensity of standing at the center of something I set in motion and can’t undo.
And because I can’t undo it, I lead them to my bedroom.
The door clicks shut behind us, a trigger pulled.
Boone’s hands find my waist, then slide lower, possessive and sure. His mouth crashes into mine, hot and ravenous, and then he’s turning me, pushing me back toward the bed. He needs me there.
His fingers grip the hem of my dress, dragging it up in one sharp, hungry motion. His breath stutters when he realizes.
“Fuck,” he groans, already unraveling. “You’re not wearing panties?”
I smile against his mouth, teeth grazing his bottom lip. “Nope, it seems I’m not.”
My nightdress slips off my shoulders. It wants to be taken. It puddles at my feet with a whisper, and the temperature in the room spikes. The air turns electric.
Caleb is suddenly there, sinking to his knees beside the bed, all heat and shadow and intent. His hands slide under my thighs, strong and urgent, as he pulls me to the edge.
I brace on my elbows, breath caught, pulse hammering. His eyes meet mine as his scruff brushes the inside of my thigh.
Behind me, Silas’s fingers skim down my spine. His mouth follows, trailing fire over skin. When he reaches my back, my bra unhooks with a practiced flick. The lace slides down my arms in a sigh.
And then Caleb’s mouth is on me.
Hot. Skilled. Starving.
He licks me, every stroke of his tongue slow enough to tease, firm enough to make me gasp. He doesn’t rush until he feels it. The tremble in my thighs. The breath that catches. The moment I start to climb.
Then he devours me.
It’s not gentle. It’s not sweet.
It’s messy, greedy, obscene. He eats as if he’s dying and I’m the only cure.
I cry out, back arching, body already strung tight. Boone’s there in a flash, gripping my wrists and pinning them above my head, holding me down. He knows I might fly apart.
“Shit, Delaney,” he growls, hoarse and ragged. “You’re gonna fucking ruin me.”
I fall apart, hips jerking, thighs shaking, a desperate moan ripping from my throat as pleasure crashes over me in a storm surge. Caleb doesn’t stop. Doesn’t slow. He holds me through every wave, tongue relentless, fingers digging into my thighs.
He likes how hard he’s wrecking me.
I barely catch my breath before they’re moving again.
Boone strips. He’s done waiting. Shirt gone, jeans shoved low, cock hard and flushed, glistening at the tip. My mouth actually waters. The look he gives me is molten.
“You look like a fucking dream,” he mutters, wrapping a fist around himself. “And I’m not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that.”
I turn, and Silas is already behind me, bare and solid, pressing kisses down my neck, writing a promise there.
Boone’s mouth crashes into mine, hot and claiming, his hands already at my wrists again, dragging them above my head.
“Stay there,” he commands. “Don’t move unless I tell you to.”
He pulls his belt from his jeans in one smooth motion. The sound makes me shiver. He wraps it tight around my wrists, binds me to the headboard.
Caleb watches from the edge of the bed, still shirtless, still wrecked from eating me. There’s a flush across his chest, his jaw tight with restraint.
“You love this,” he says, almost to himself. “All tied up for us. Dripping already.”
I whimper, arching my back, aching for contact. “Please…”
Silas leans over me, mouth grazing my ear. “Tell us what you want, Delaney. Use your words.”
“Touch me. Fuck me. I don’t care who goes first… just, please.”
Boone growls, positioning himself between my legs. “You will care. You’re going to take us all.”
His cock pushes inside slowly. The stretch makes my toes curl. I’m soaked, pulsing, still oversensitive from Caleb’s mouth, and the belt around my wrists only sharpens the ache.
“Oh, yes,” I gasp, hips straining against the bed.
Boone sets a brutal pace, fucking into me with hard, possessive strokes that make the headboard slam into the wall. He’s rougher now. Meaner. One hand closes around my throat, not choking, just holding, making everything brighter. Sharper.
Caleb cups my cheek, thumb brushing my lip. “Taste me.”
I turn and part my lips.
He slides into my mouth, thick and hot. “Fuck, Delaney.”
His hand tightens in my hair as I take him in, every inch, every pulse. Boone keeps fucking me deep as he makes space for Silas, who presses behind me, hands on my hips.
And then Silas slides inside me, slick and thick and devastating.
My scream is muffled around Caleb as Silas sinks in.
“Delaney, shit,” Silas growls. “You feel so good.”
Boone holds my thighs apart. Caleb fucks my mouth with careful control, eyes blazing. Silas drives into me from behind with deep, ruthless thrusts.
I’m nothing but sensation.
Every inch of me is owned. Filled. Held.
I’m wrecked.
I’m worshipped.
And when I come again, I swear I black out.
The orgasm hits as a tidal wave. I shake, sobbing around Caleb as my body clenches hard around Silas, around everything.
Boone’s hand grips my thigh. “That’s it. Take it. Take all of us.”
He pulls out with a groan, fisting himself over my belly. I barely register the heat of it before Silas growls and slams in one last time, spilling deep with a hoarse curse.
Caleb’s the last. Hips jerking, fingers tight in my hair as he comes in my mouth, gasping my name.
When it’s over, I collapse into the sheets, wrists still bound, lips swollen, body shaking and spent.
They take care of me after.
Boone unties my wrists and kisses each one. Silas wipes me clean with warm water, murmuring praise. Caleb gathers me into his arms and lets me curl against his chest, hand stroking my back until my breathing slows.
I lie there in the center of them, raw, flushed, marked, and absolutely, completely claimed.
And for once, there’s no ache in my chest.
No doubt clawing at my ribs.
Only this deep, aching certainty that I am exactly where I belong.
I just hope that’s a feeling that stays with me.