Cam pushed me up against the wall. “Tell me there’s a fucking bed in this place.”
“A bed for fucking, biker boy?”
“You’ve had your fun with me today, don’t play with me now.”
The laughter in his voice belied the heat. I knew he would not care if we did not fuck tonight, and nor would I.
I showed him around the house, every level, every room. The high ceilings. The huge fireplaces. The glass roof in the main bedroom that opened to the stars when the British weather allowed them to shine.
And it was a good night for stargazing. In the bedroom, we found Saint already there, stretched out on the clean sheets, staring up at the sky, his boots and jacket discarded.
My heart swelled to see him—the life in his gaze, his smile. Despite the sensation of that sacred silk scarf still seared into my skin, I had not expected him to come inside so soon. “Do you like it?”
Saint nodded. “So quiet.”
“And it will stay that way.” I sensed Cam shedding his jacket and boots and passing me. “This house is not where people come.”
“I like the sound of that.” Cam lay down beside Saint, his hair coal-dark against the ash-grey bedding, and lifted his arm for Saint to slide beneath it. “Is there a well we can drop our phones down?”
“If you wish it.”
Cam almost responded, but Saint shifting into his embrace distracted him, and I could understand that.
We had built-in wardrobes. I gathered the clothes they had already left on the floor and tucked them away with my own boots and riding jacket.
I returned to the bed and lay on Cam’s other side, resting my chin on his chest, close enough to Saint that I felt his slow, even breaths. Hispeacefulbreaths, a reality that had seemed so far away for him when we had first met.
Reaching for Saint’s hand, I closed my eyes. “We are safe here, wingman, I promise.”
A low hum was his only answer and time began to drift. I may have slept, I was not sure. The only clue I had was that I opened my eyes to the first strains of summer sun sometime later.
Also, I was on my back and Saint was above me, brandishing a water bottle.
I took it and drank, knowing it would make him happy, noting how he watched me, his gaze drifting to my throat as I swallowed.
Cam.
He was beside me, sitting up, drinking coffee.
And yet, Saint had brought me water. What was this outrage?
I moved to set the bottle aside.
Saint took it from me and dropped his hands either side of my head.
His eyes glowed. Saint remained hard to read when it came to sex, but this... this was a look I had learned to interpret from the start.He wants me.A fact that burned through me untamed, a thrill that would never get old.
I slid a palm along his jaw. “You would like to fuck?”
Saint kissed me and he tasted of love and forever. Poetic, perhaps. Nonsense, even, but it was where my mind went. And where it stayed as he swept his tongue into my mouth, and every nerve I possessed lit up for him, muscle memory taking over, slotting us together.
My leg hooked over Saint’s hip. His hardness ground into me so slowly it almost hurt, the long roll of his hips pure torture, and I braced myself for what would come next. Craved it as much as I feared it.
Cam fucked me with the savageness I demanded of him. Saint had always fucked me with the love we deserved.
I bit his lip. “Do not tease me. I will surely die of it this time.”
“You’re not dying.”