33. Wren #3
“Jesus Christ,” Ronan mutters. I glance over just in time to catch the dark look settling across his face as his eyes track the paint smeared over my skin.
All of a sudden, the room feels warmer. Charged.
Lucian recovers first. “Well,” he says, tossing his paint roller aside. “If we’re doing this properly…”
Before I can react, he grabs my waist and hauls me against his chest.
I squeal as he rubs the paint on him over the shoulder of my shirt.
“You asshole!” I squirm in his hold until he lets me go in a fit of laughter. Noticing the paint tray at my feet, I crouch, dipping my outstretched hand in the paint before quickly rising to wipe it down the center of Lucian’s face.
“You…” he splutters, while Ronan and Silas cackle their heads off.
Swiping his top over his head, he wipes off as much of it as he can, leaving several streaks behind. His eyes flash with a predatory excitement.
“Oh, you are so dead.”
With a squeak, I race away from him as fast as I can.
“Ronan!” I squeal, ducking behind his large frame. “Protect me.”
Laughing, he turns to face me. “See, that’s where you made a mistake.
” My mouth drops open as I gape at him. “You assumed I’m not interested in seeing you doused in paint.
” Leaning in and dropping his voice, he tacks on, “And more importantly, seeing you strip out of your paint-covered clothes afterward.”
With a brush I didn’t realize he was holding, he swipes green paint across my thigh, betraying me.
“Traitor!”
A presence at my back as me glancing over my shoulder to find Silas standing there. There’s a heat in his gaze that has me swallowing audibly.
Reaching up, his thumb brushes across my cheek, deliberately smearing the paint there. His gaze locks onto mine as he studies his handiwork.
“Pretty,” Ronan murmurs, the others making sounds of agreement.
The word does funny things to my insides and makes my heart crash against my chest. Especially when paired with the look in each of their eyes, like they aren’t talking about the paint at all.
Fingers tickling my stomach have me twisting to look at Silas. There’s a question in his eyes.
Biting on my lower lip, I slowly nod.
With achingly slow movements, he inches my top up my body before pulling it over my head and leaving me standing in nothing but a bralette and shorts while all three men stare at me like they’ve collectively forgotten how to breathe.
“Fuck,” Lucian rasps. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that.”
“Used to what?” I ask softly.
“Used to seeing you like that, Little Serpent,” Ronan expands, his voice rough and gaze as wild as Lucian’s. “So sexy and vulnerable-looking.” He trails the back of his fingers down my arm. “Looking at us like you need something, but you don’t know how to ask for it.”
Leaning in, Silas kisses the soft spot on the back of my shoulder. His fingers drag streaks of green paint across my ribs before he crouches and licks the skin directly beneath.
I shiver.
“Now I regret not getting the edible paint,” Lucian comments, sounding almost in awe as he watches Silas mark my body with his lips and fingers.
Ronan exhales slowly like he’s losing a battle with himself, while Lucian outright groans.
“You have got to stop looking at us like that,” Ronan says, sounding anguished.
“What look?” I ask coyly.
“The one that makes me want to forget we still have half an apartment to paint.”
Leaning back into Silas’s arms, I smirk up at Ronan. “It doesn’t all need done today.”
Unable to stay away any longer, Lucian moves to my side. “She’s got a point,” he says, dipping his fingers in paint before splaying them across my abdomen.
Grabbing my hips, he twists me toward him as he gets to his knees in front of me. Writing his name just above the waistband of my shorts, he groans. “God, you look so good with my name on you.”
Shocked, I bark a laugh. Sliding my paint-covered hands into his hair, I tug on the strands until he’s looking up at me. Fuck, that’s a view I’m not going to forget.
“I am not getting your name tattooed on me, Lucian.”
He smirks up at me. “Fine, I’ll get your name on me instead.” Grabbing my finger, he dunks it in the paint. Holding my hand, he directs my finger to his chest and writes out my name on his skin. “This will have to suffice until I can get something more permanent.”
I splutter in response. Before I can come up with something more coherent, Ronan moves in.
His hand settles against the side of my neck, paint-streaked fingers warm against my skin as his gaze drifts over the mess Lucian made of me.
Green paint smeared across my stomach. My ruined shorts.
Lucian kneeling at my feet with my name spread across his chest like some sort of offering.
Ronan’s expression darkens with want. “I’ve never been particularly into tattoos, but I might have to make an exception.”
Shaking my head, I smack his chest. “No one is getting my name tattooed on them.”
He smirks at me but doesn’t say anything. The way he looks at me should be illegal. It’s as though he sees every fractured little piece of me and wants them anyway. Lowering his head, he brushes his lips over mine before capturing them in a heated kiss.
It’s over far too quickly, leaving me breathless.
Ronan’s gaze flicks over the paint still coating my skin before he reaches for the tray beside us. Dipping two fingers into the green paint, he studies me for a second like he’s considering exactly where to touch me. Then he drags the paint slowly across the swell of my breast.
My breath catches hard.
The movement is almost painfully gentle. Reverent.
“Ronan,” I whisper.
His eyes lift to mine at the sound of his name.
“You’re beautiful like this,” he says quietly. “Happy. Relaxed.” His fingers trail lower, tracing paint across my ribs.
Emotion swells unexpectedly in my chest.
Silas smiles against my shoulder before pressing another kiss there. Turning me gently until I’m facing him, his fingers slide beneath my chin. Paint is smudged across his knuckles as he studies me with those intense blue eyes.
Lowering his gaze, he uses the paint to draw a symbol in the center of my chest. It’s the same one he drew on my palm that night.
An anchor.
My chest physically aches.
“Oh,” I whisper.
Lucian sees the exact second I start spiraling emotionally and immediately ruins it on purpose.
“Alright,” he announces loudly. “If everyone’s done having feelings—”
Ronan groans. “For fuck’s sake.”
“—I’d like to point out that Wren is standing here half naked, covered in paint, and somehow none of us have kissed her properly in at least thirty seconds.”
I laugh so hard I nearly snort.
And then Lucian kisses me. It’s messy. All heat and reckless affection.
Truthfully…it’s perfect.
He tastes faintly like beer from lunch. Paint smears between us as his hands slide over my waist, pulling me flush against him while Silas’s fingers continue tracing idle patterns against my spine.
Ronan watches us for half a second before muttering something deeply unflattering under his breath and joining in.
The next few minutes dissolve into beautiful chaos.
Kissing. Hands everywhere.
Paint transfers onto skin and mouths and clothes until none of us are remotely clean anymore.
Lucian keeps making me laugh mid-kiss on purpose.
Silas grows steadily bolder every time I make another soft sound against his mouth.
Ronan keeps touching me like he’s trying to memorize every inch of me beneath his hands.
And somewhere between one kiss and the next, I realize something terrifying.
I can suddenly picture this.
Not just the heat. Not just the sex.
This.
The in-between moments.
Domestic chaos.
Shared space.
Laughter echoing through rooms that feel lived in.
I can picture a home…with them.
The realization settles deep in my chest as Lucian suddenly scoops me into his arms.
I squeal, clutching his shoulders. “Lucian!”
“What?” he says innocently. “You said the painting didn’t need to be finished today.”
“You’re getting paint everywhere,” I protest weakly.
Lucian grins wickedly against my throat. “Good thing we were all going to need a shower then.”
My laughter dissolves into a startled gasp when Lucian tosses me onto my bed hard enough to make it bounce beneath me.
He grins wolfishly before climbing on top of me. He has paint smeared across his jaw and chest, looking completely feral in the best possible way.
The mattress dips again as Ronan and Silas slowly crawl onto the bed, surrounding me.
Lucian is sprawled near my legs, eyes glittering with reckless amusement and heat.
Ronan is watching me with that terrifying intensity that always makes me feel peeled open beneath his gaze.
Silas is silent and steady beside me, fingers brushing gently through my hair like he can’t stop touching me now that he’s started.
Lucian reaches for me first. His hands slide up my thighs slowly as he leans over me, mouth dragging along my neck while his fingers deftly pop the button on my shorts.
“You smell like paint,” he murmurs against my skin.
I laugh softly. “I wonder why.”
Ronan rolls his eyes fondly before his gaze settles back onto me. That look again. The one that makes me feel like the center of his entire universe.
His fingers tap the outside of my thigh, encouraging me to lift my hips so Lucian can slide my shorts and underwear down my legs.
Shrugging out of his T-shirt, Silas maneuvers us so he’s behind me. I can feel the heat of him at my back as hot lips dance across my skin while he undoes the clasps of my bra, leaving me naked before the three of them.
There are no nerves. No doubt. In fact, I have never felt so at ease in the presence of other people.
This right here, with them, is where I belong.
“Beautiful,” Ronan rasps.
Leaning in, he runs his tongue along my lips. When I part them, he pushes into my mouth, leaving me breathless with his kiss. All three of them kiss so differently. Ronan’s is always controlled, dominant in a way that makes me weak at the knees.