Chapter 19 #2
“I can find somebody else to take care of my kids,” I add.
Damon shakes his head. “It won’t work. They don’t know Jason like I do. Like Zane does.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll manage just fine,” I say. “I just don’t want to cause more problems than there already is. We still have some insurance money left. I’ll quit my job, and we’ll just move to another state for a while.”
His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. “You think leaving will fix this?”
I let out a shaky breath. “I think staying makes it worse.”
His hand brushes the edge of my suitcase, fingers curling against the fabric. “For who?”
I hate that I don’t have an answer. I hate that part of me—the part I’ve buried for years—wants to say for me. Because I don’t know how to be in this house with him, with them, and not want something I can’t have.
“Everything’s falling apart,” I mumble.
Damon exhales sharply, his fingers flexing again against my suitcase before he steps back, like he needs distance before he says something he can’t take back.
“We’ll figure it out,” he says.
“How?” I shake my head. “Because right now, it feels like the only thing I’m doing is making things worse.”
“You think you’re the problem?” His voice is incredulous, laced with something that sounds almost like anger. “Mia, the problem is that we—”
He stops himself, shaking his head.
“We what?” I ask.
His throat works, like he’s fighting something he doesn’t want to say. Then, finally, he looks me dead in the eyes. “We care about you. More than we should.”
Zane and Asher step into the room, identical frowns on their faces.
My fingers grip the handle of my suitcase, knuckles white, but I don’t move. I can’t. Not with three sets of eyes on me, waiting for an answer I don’t have.
“We heard you arguing,” Zane says, frowning. “What’s going on?”
I stay silent, willing my hands to stop shaking.
“Why are you packing up?” Asher’s voice is low, cautious.
“If this is about the girls, Asher can take them out for a while,” Zane offers. “I know they’re going stir-crazy in here.”
His words are meant to be helpful, but they land wrong, twisting inside me. I let out a brittle laugh.
“Asher’s made it clear he wants nothing to do with us.” My voice cracks, humiliatingly raw. I clear my throat, pushing past it. “And you... you said you understood what I wanted.”
Zane flinches like I’ve struck him. “Mia…”
Damon turns to Asher. “She’s upset.”
“Yeah, no shit,” Asher mutters, rubbing a hand down his face.
I glare at him, anger bubbling under the surface, feeding on the frustration, the confusion, the sheer helplessness I’ve felt since everything spiraled out of control.
“We really need to just sit down and talk,” Asher says.
I scoff. “About what?” I snap. “The part where we had sex? Or the part where you couldn’t get away fast enough when I suggested…”
I stop myself before the words fully escape, my breath shuddering.
Damon inhales sharply, his expression unreadable. Everything is out in the open now.
The silence that follows is unbearable.
Zane’s jaw tightens. “You think I don’t want this?” His voice is rough, edged with something close to desperation. “You think I don’t lie awake at night wondering how the hell I’m supposed to protect you when all I want to do is hold you in my arms?”
My heart lurches, but I can’t let myself hope. I shake my head. “You said you understood.”
Zane lets out a harsh breath, pacing like a caged animal. “I do. I fucking do, Mia. But that doesn’t mean this is simple.”
Asher, who has been silent too long, finally speaks. “I took the job in Dubai because I thought it was the right move. For me. For you. I thought keeping my distance would make it easier.” His voice drops. “But it hasn’t.”
Something cracks inside me, something I’ve been holding together with sheer will. I press a hand to my chest like I can physically keep it from breaking.
“Then why are you still leaving?” I ask him.
Asher’s throat works, but no words come.
Damon, who has been watching us all like a man ready to step between a fight, finally exhales. “We all need to stop pretending this doesn’t mean something.”
I let out a short, bitter laugh. “I’m not the one pretending.”
Asher looks away while Zane murmurs under his breath “God help me.”
“Do you really mean it when you say it?” Damon finally says as if he’s been holding back.
“Yes,” I breath.
“I want you…” I say, looking at them. “All of you.”
Damon’s gaze stays locked on me. “Then let’s stop running from it.”
Zane swings the door shut with a soft click, sealing us in. The girls are safe in their room. No distractions. No escape. I swallow hard, my pulse racing as I look up at them.
I turn to Damon first. “Are you sure you want this? With… them?”
His gray eyes burn with an intensity that sends a thrill down my spine. “Yes,” he says, the word firm, decisive. Then he leans in, and his mouth covers mine. It’s not gentle; it’s a promise, hot and demanding in a way that makes my toes curl against the floor.
They step closer, like a collective force that makes the air around me vibrate. Three men—towering, muscular, their shoulders broad enough to eclipse the rest of the world. I feel tiny in their shadow, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
Their combined presence, the heat of their bodies, is overwhelming. My head spins as Damon kisses me, his strong hands bracketing my waist, his grip unyielding in its need. I sense the others behind him watching, waiting. The energy in the room crackles.
Damon pulls back, leaving me breathless. My chest heaves, and I turn to Asher. Tall, broad-shouldered, his arms thick with muscle, veins running under tan skin. He meets my gaze, a flicker of uncertainty giving way to determination.
“Yes,” Asher murmurs, stepping in. His quiet intensity sends a shiver across my skin.
Then his mouth is on mine, softer than Damon’s but no less consuming.
His hands slide down my back, pressing me closer to his impossibly firm chest. I feel tiny against him, my hips fitting snugly against his, my palms flattening over thick muscles that tense at my touch.
A low sound drags my attention away, and I glance over at Zane. He’s so tall, with biceps straining against his shirt, legs like pillars. His dark eyes lock onto mine, and there’s a hunger there that makes my stomach flip.
His voice is quieter than usual, thick with tension. “Come here.”
I do, stepping from Asher’s embrace into Zane’s waiting arms. He cups my face in one large hand, leaning down, and kisses me in a way that steals the breath right out of my lungs.
His free arm comes around my waist, pulling me against his powerful frame.
My feet barely touch the floor, and I cling to his shoulders, heart pounding in my ears.
Damon moves in behind me, and I swear I feel every ripple of muscle when his chest brushes my back. His hands settle on my hips, thumbs digging in.
“God,” I whisper, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of them, their strength caging me in. My own body feels impossibly small, surrounded on every side by solid, unyielding heat.
Zane’s mouth trails over my jaw, breath ragged. “You wanted this,” he murmurs to me, like he needs reassurance.
“I still do,” I whisper, my voice trembling with anticipation.
Damon’s fingers slip under my chin, turning my face toward him. He kisses me again, deeper this time, and the possessive note in his low groan sends heat curling through my belly. Asher’s hand finds my hip, his touch firm as he leans in, his lips brushing my neck.
Their scents blend—cologne, soap, raw masculinity—and my body responds, arching, seeking more contact. More of them.
Asher’s lips brush over mine, almost tender. He’s quiet and intense—hands sliding under my shirt, skimming over my waist, rising up to cup my tit. I arch into him, dizzy.
Zane’s breath fans across my neck. “She’s so soft,” he mutters, palming my ass with one large hand, the other slipping around to stroke my thigh.
Damon growls, hooking a finger in my shirt and pulling it up and off, exposing my stomach. He dips his head, kisses the newly bared skin. “Never thought we’d be here,” he murmurs against my flesh. “But I’m not walking away.”
A spark of need pulses between my legs at his words. My gaze flicks to Zane, who’s lifted me slightly, his huge hands supporting my thighs as he kisses my shoulder. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice edged with possession.
Asher tugs my bra strap down, his lips brushing the curve of my breast.
When his tongue drags over my nipple, I gasp, hips bucking involuntarily.
Zane’s grip on me tightens. “Easy,” he mutters, though his own breathing is ragged. His cock presses harder against my ass, and I can’t help the moan that escapes me. I’m caught between them, each touch fueling my arousal until I feel feverish.
Damon slides a hand into my hair, tilting my head up for another bruising kiss.
My lips part under the pressure, and I taste the hunger in him—the same hunger that burns through all of us.
Asher’s mouth moves lower, his hands skimming over my waist, hooking into the waistband of my pants and tugging them down.
Zane shifts me so Damon can help, and in a matter of seconds, my clothes hit the floor.
I’m bare, except for their hands covering my body. Their mouths.
Zane lifts me, easily hoisting me up, and I cling to his shoulders, amazed at how small I feel in his hold. Damon’s mouth finds my neck, sucking gently at the sensitive skin, while Asher threads his fingers through my hair, tugging just enough to send a thrill through me.
Zane’s cock is hard against my belly, thick and demanding, as he kisses me so fiercely, I forget to breathe. Damon’s hand slides between my legs, a rough palm gliding over my slick folds. I cry out, arching into his touch.