Chapter 28 Reva
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
REVA
“Do you know what happens to bad girls?”
My throat tightens. Nash looks up, locking eyes with me in a way that dares me not only to question him, but to act in any way that goes against his wishes.
Fear flashes first. Bright. Animal. Immediate. Visceral in a way that tears through my veins until I’m one word or move away from trembling under their scrutiny.
Then something in me takes one look at the room—at Shiloh’s amused face, at Ever standing there like a loaded weapon, at Nash undoing his cuffs like a man with all the time in the world—and I decide the only thing left between me and complete collapse is sass.
I bite my lip and cock my hip.
He wants my anger and fury.
I’ll give it to him.
“Kinda hoping it’s a spanking with a side of dick.”
Shiloh laughs outright. Even Ever’s mouth twitches. Nash just looks at me for a moment longer, dark eyes unreadable.
Then he leans back in the chair and says, very softly, “We’ll see.”
The room changes. Nothing tangible, nothing I can put my finger on. But something invisible slips into place. A line. A set of rails that I can’t escape from.
I feel it as clearly as if the floor has tilted beneath my heels.
Nash remains seated, but the power in the room still belongs to him. Maybe more because he’s seated. Because he doesn’t have to touch me to direct any of this.
His gaze goes to Ever first. Then Shiloh.
“Bring her here.”
I should protest. I should fight or struggle.
Instead, I stand very still while Ever comes behind me and Shiloh steps in close.
It isn’t gentleness, exactly, but it isn’t force either.
It’s something more dangerous than both.
An expectation. A confidence that I’m going to let this happen because some part of me has already stepped into the current and decided not to fight the pull of the ocean dragging me under.
Ever’s hand settles at my waist. Shiloh lifts a finger under my chin, tipping my face up.
“Tell me to stop,” he says quietly, and the words jolt through me more than if he’d touched me somewhere bare.
I look at him. At the dark humor gone serious in his eyes. At the awareness there. At the fact that he’s giving me an out when I least expected one.
The room seems to narrow to that single questioning order.
Would he stop? Would he step away? He was the first of them. The first to kiss me. The first to make me feel more. But now, in this moment, he’s finding a way to give me one last choice.
Do I want them to stop?
My pulse skids. I could say it. I could choose something different, something…less. Something in me knows that this is a moment of decision, a point of choice. I can walk away. Go back to Chicago.
Give up.
Give them up.
Instead I hear my own voice, rougher than I mean it to be. “I’m not stopping you.”
A sound low in Ever’s chest. Approval maybe. Or restraint.
From the chair, Nash says, “Good.”
Shiloh kisses me. No teasing prelude. No testing brush of lips. Just a kiss that lands like a hand at the nape of my neck and pushes me into his obsession.
Ever’s grip tightens at my waist as my balance shifts back into him. Shiloh angles my head, deepening his assault at once, his mouth hot and demanding and wickedly skilled. He tastes like whiskey and sin and something sweet beneath it. The room drops away.
“We’re not letting you run from this,” Ever whispers against my ear. “From us.”
The words slide through me, replacing everything I believe to be truth with nothing more than this. Than them.
Shiloh deepens the kiss, and this isn’t a kiss at all really. Not the kind I understand from normal life, from ordinary men and ordinary mistakes I’ve made. This is a confrontation. A correction. A way to exert control and force me to feel things I’m not ready to feel.
And yet…breaking away is impossible. It’s not because they’re holding me. It’s because I need this like I need my next breath. Because I crave what they do to me. Individually, and together like this.
I’m not the only one.
Shiloh kisses me with control that morphs into a leash biting into his skin, nearly lost, and Ever behind me feels wound so tight I can sense every held back inch of him.
My entire world is narrowing down to these men.
The gun in my purse. Deacon. My careful plans.
All of it blurs under the heat of mouths and hands and breath. Adrenaline breaks the dam. I lose myself in the way their bodies bracket mine—protection and prison all at once.
These are bad men. Good men don’t kiss the way they do. Don’t force their way into my life the way these three have.
Good men don’t take everything and give nothing in return.
Shiloh takes and gives in equal measure, and desire drives clean through the last of my reservations. Ever makes it impossible to reach for more until I wrench one arm free and hook it over his neck behind me, dragging him impossibly closer.
The sound he makes is almost a growl.
Shiloh comes up for air just long enough for me to turn my head to Ever. His lips snag mine.
Different. God, so different.
Shiloh is elegance sharpened to a blade that he uses to slice through my restraint
Ever is so much more and less at the same time.
He’s heat banked under stone until everything catches fire.
Quiet until he isn’t. His kiss lands harder, rougher, with an edge of hunger he no longer bothers to conceal.
He takes my mouth like he’s been thinking about it since the moment I walked away and resenting himself for every second of it.
They take possession of me. Steal any resolve or decision I might make to step back. My permission was given, and until I take it away, I’m theirs.
I feel it in the way Shiloh’s hands close over my waist from the front while Ever braces me from behind, in the way their bodies seem to erase every draft of air from the room until all I know is male heat and pressure and the smell of clean skin, whiskey, and sex already building.
They could take me now, and I’d be nothing more than a puddle of need.
Shiloh bends first.
His mouth drifts from my collarbone to the valley between my breasts.
Peppering my skin with open-mouthed kisses that feel half worship, half threat.
His hands spread wide there, thumbs brushing the undersides of my breasts through the dress, and a helpless little sound escapes me at the jolt of pleasure.
It’s consuming, the way they cover me with their bodies, their energy. I don’t have to breathe.
I only have to feel.
Even Nash, who hasn’t touched me yet, is here. I can feel it. His focus solely on me.
Ever’s cock prods against my back, hard and unmistakable, when Shiloh goes lower. He pushes my legs apart with practiced insistence, crowding my thighs with his shoulders, and drags his nose over the front of my panties through the dress.
His moan is the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard.
“You send me out of my goddamn mind, Yank,” he murmurs against me. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I whimper through Ever’s kiss when he hauls me up against his chest, lifting me just enough that my toes barely brush the floor.
“What are you doing?”
It comes out breathless. Not really a protest. More plea than anything else.
Shiloh glances up, lips parted in an easy smile, his eyes so dark they’re nearly black.
“Let us do this for you,” he says.
My whole body clenches.
He slides his fingers to the hem of my panties, pauses, and looks up at me again.
“Tell me no.”
Another out. Another choice.
My lips part. My head tips back against Ever’s shoulder. “Don’t stop.”
“That’s my girl,” Shiloh says softly.
Carefully, almost reverently, he drags the lace down my legs. Ever lifts me higher to help him, forcing me to cling to those broad shoulders, and suddenly I’m bare for them.
Heat floods my face. Memory flashes of the woods with Ever, of raw skin and bark and the wild, impossible feeling of being opened up in the sunlight.
Based on his dark chuckle against my throat, he’s thinking about it too.
“Just how we like you,” he grinds out. “Pussy out and drenched for us.”
Shiloh groans under his breath as he settles on one knee. He parts my thighs wider and takes one leg over his shoulder.
And for one suspended second, I understand exactly how I must look—lifted in Ever’s arms, opened for Shiloh, presented while Nash watches from that chair with his cuffs rolled and his expression unreadable.
Presented for sacrifice. My pussy clenches.
“Fuck,” Shiloh breathes. His index finger slides once through my slick. “You are absolutely dripping, love.”
Then he bends to taste me. My eyes squeeze shut.
Ever nips the side of my neck as Shiloh’s tongue parts my folds, lifts to my clit, circles the swollen nub with sinful precision. My chest heaves. Shiloh spears his tongue inside me, and I jolt in Ever’s hold, muscles tightening helplessly.
Shiloh grips my hips as his mouth works me over, and it is filthy to watch him when I force my eyes open—his dark head between my legs, his scruff brushing my inner thighs, his expression wicked and intent as he eats me like he has all the time in the world.
I grind against his face before I can stop myself. He smiles against me. Actually smiles.
I’m trembling, a shaking mess, cursing them and blessing them at the same time. Shiloh sucks my clit into his mouth.
Ever kisses along my jaw, my neck, murmuring things too low to separate into words and yet somehow every syllable lands. My nails dig into the back of his neck when Shiloh increases the pressure, the scrape of his teeth sending a white-hot pulse through my belly.
“That’s it, baby,” Ever rasps near my ear. “Let go. You’re so fucking beautiful.”
Shiloh hums approval and flicks his tongue just right.
The orgasm is there. Right there. Hot and ready and building so hard it makes my thighs shake around his shoulders.
Then Shiloh eases off. I gasp in frustration.