Heat blooms across my body at the sound of it; at the feel of him fighting for control and losing ground with every roll of my hips.
Ronan’s hand slides around my stomach, flattening there, holding me in place while his mouth finds the shell of my ear again. “Say you’re ours,” he orders quietly. “Say it.”
Rowan withdraws just long enough for my voice to find its way out. “I’m yours,” I confess, raw and real. He sinks back into me instantly, like he refuses to let the space between us exist for more than a heartbeat.
A rough groan answers me from all sides of my body, and for a moment, the world is nothing but heat and breath and the three of them trying to pull every ounce of sanity out of me.
Rowan stays close, kneeling beside us, his hand sweeping up my side, his knuckles brushing across my tight nipples. His eyes are molten and fixed entirely on me, like he’s memorizing every shiver, every sound, every plea.
“You’re so damn beautiful like this,” he whispers, voice hoarse and reverent. “Eyes on me, my little wild thing.”
My eyes snap to his, and the look on his face nearly undoes me. Raw. Starved. Worshiping and hungry all at once. He cups my jaw, guiding me closer until my lips are flush against his pelvis.
“Come apart for us,” he growls, the words trembling out of him like he’s begging and commanding at the same time. “Let go. We’ve got you.”
Those words strike deep—reaching a place no amount of darkness could kill. A place only they have touched. Emerson’s grip tightens on my thighs. Ronan’s breath stutters against the back of my shoulder.
Their voices surround me. Low. Filthy. Encouraging. Each one murmuring exactly what they want from me, what they love about the way I move, the way I sound, the way I break for them.
“Good girl…”
“That’s it…”
“Let go for us…”
It washes over me in waves, building, stealing my breath and replacing it with heat that coils tight in my belly. It’s overwhelming and perfect and more than I can hold inside for another heartbeat.
“I’m close,” I pull off Rowan and whisper, the confession ragged.
“We know,” Rowan murmurs, kissing me deep. “Give in.”
Emerson’s voice follows, rougher, strained. “Do it, baby. I’m right there with you.”
Ronan’s breath falls against my neck one last time, his words a growl laced with tenderness. “Come for us, Berk.”
My vision goes white around the edges. I arch so sharply it almost hurts; the tension detonating inside me and ripping the breath from my lungs. Their hands clamp down, their breaths shatter, their voices break into a tangle of filthy curses and reverent murmurs. Rowan slides back between my lips, and the three of them come undone with me—shaking, swearing, surrendering to the same savage rush that owns me.
Their foreheads rest against my skin. Their hands stroking my sides, my back, my hips. Rowan’s thumb drags across my lower lip. Emerson kisses my shoulder. Ronan presses his face into my neck like he’s grounding himself.
No one speaks for a long moment. The silence isn’t empty. It’s full of breathless recovery, the kind that hums in the air and sinks into my bones. My body feels like it’s dissolving into the sheets, every limb boneless, every muscle warm and pliant. I’d float if they let go of me.
But they don’t.
Ronan is the first to move. His hands press against my hips, steadying me when he pulls slowly free. “Easy, baby,” he murmurs, voice a soft rumble vibrating against my skin. “Let us take care of you.”
Emerson shifts beneath me, easing me off him with slow, careful movements that make my body twitch from the aftershocks still rippling through me. Rowan presses a kiss to the corner of my mouth, lingering for a beat, as if grounding himself while grounding me.
I’m dimly aware of warm cloth on my skin—Ronan again, wiping gently between my thighs, along the insides, up my hips. He moves with a tenderness that borders on reverent, as if I might break if he presses too hard. Emerson lifts my upper body, his arm a solid band around my middle while Rowan brushes damp hair off my forehead and kisses the crown of my head.
Their touches blur together. Soft words. Warm hands. Care I never thought I’d feel again.
“Stay awake for a second,” Emerson whispers, even though his hold cradles me like he expects me to crumble at any moment.
“I’m trying,” I mumble, but the world is already pulsing at the edges, darkness tugging at me like a tide pulling back from the shore.
The guys shift around me with a quiet efficiency that only comes from years and years of moving like one organism. Fresh sheets. Soft blankets. Warmth.One of them lifts me—Rowan, I know by the familiar strength and the steady thrum of his heart against my cheek—and lowers himself onto the bed, easing me down with him. He adjusts us with quiet care until I’m settled against his chest, fitted there like I belong.
Ronan moves in next, sliding close, his body aligning along our side as if it’s always known where to be. His presence is solid, grounding, warmth bleeding in slow and constant. Emerson takes his place in front of me, stretching out with serene confidence, one arm hooking over my hip to draw me in, holding me flush against his heat.