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“I want in.” He rubbed himself against my clit and slid back to my center, nudging, demanding, his breaths rushing out in wild pants.

I shivered, dazed from the magnificent force of the orgasm and so damned turned on I couldn’t see straight. “Jesse—”

“Just the tip.” He clutched my hips and lined himself up. “I won’t come.”

“Ye will.” Roark launched to my side, his breathing erratic as he looked at Jesse, at me, back to Jesse. “Did ye feel the string? The IUD?”

Jesse stabbed two fingers inside me, curling and searching, the heel of his hand grinding against my clit and sending unholy shivers through my body.

“I— I can’t…I don’t know.” He yanked his fingers away and gripped his cock.

Shit. I flattened my hands on their chests, trying to catch my breath. “Sometimes it shifts deeper in my cervix. Even if you can’t feel it, it’s still there.”

Was I certain? Was it worth the risk?

Fuck yes! warred with visions of carrying a life to my uncertain death.

Roark grabbed Jesse’s forearm, his eyes hard shards of green glass. “If she gets pregnant…”

The rest of his sentence hung in the air. The world-saving child, my grim fate, the harrowing fucking mystery of it all.

I could tell from Jesse’s labored breathing and the insistent thrusts of his erection against my opening that he was beyond listening. Would he turn on Roark, spitting and throwing punches? He had a delirious look in his eyes. But maybe he’d wanted Roark in here all along to stop him from going too far?

He began to sink deeper, breaching my entrance, and I shoved my hands between us. He swung his hand, and despite the force with which he knocked my arms away, the pressure of his cock eased, cautious, uncertain.

His chest heaved, and his desperate breaths hissed out. But so did mine and Roark’s. There wasn’t enough air in the room to accommodate our sexual tension.

Roark pressed against my side, crowded around me, his arm at my back, his other hand now flat against the clench of Jesse’s abs, his hard glare on the precarious location of Jesse’s cock.

For a dense moment, I thought Jesse might cringe away, but when he looked into my eyes and an agonized sound burst from the back of his throat, all hell broke loose.

The stoic, untouchable guardian I’d known for two years attacked me like a man possessed.

Every ounce of tension in the tiny bathroom exploded all at once. In a blink, Jesse was all over me, his chest barreling into mine, the momentum banging my tailbone painfully against the faucet. His hands were everywhere, darting back and forth between pushing at Roark, restraining my arms, squeezing my breast, and grabbing his cock to shove it inside me.

Oh fuck, that beautiful cock. I wanted it, invading and stretching and pounding, until all I could feel was the brutal impact of his possession.

I ached for it to thrust us right out of the realm of reality. “Roark, please. Just wait a—”

Jesse’s lips slammed against my mouth, his tongue lashing, only to pull away every other breath to argue with Roark. “Get the fuck off me.” He turned back to me, leaning his forehead against mine, panting, as he tried to line up his cock. Then he was gone again, shoving at Roark. “I won’t hurt her.”

His mouth returned to mine, hot, heavy, and wild with need. I shouldn’t have been kissing him back. Shouldn’t have threaded my hands through his hair. He deserved a knee in the balls. But I couldn’t…I couldn’t push him away. I wanted him as furiously as he wanted me. Somewhere in my fog of lust, however, I had enough common sense to squeeze my thighs together, even as Jesse wrenched them apart.

Roark slammed a fist against his jaw. “For fuck’s sake, I’ll give ye a scrotum of a headache if ye den' cop on to yourself.”

“Roark!” I untangled my hands from Jesse’s hair and grabbed Roark’s arm. Damn his Irish temper!

Jesse clenched his teeth, spun away from me, and launched at him, fingers curling around his throat. They flew backward, the force of their bodies cracking against the tiles, and the next few moments blurred by in a heart-pounding scuffle of grunting, punching, and choking.

“Stop.” I jumped off the counter, my hands balling into fists. “Fucking stop it!”

I fought to keep my vocal chords from waking the entire house, but if I saw a single drop of blood, I was going to leap into that brawl and do a helluva lot more than scream.

Roark swung toward Jesse’s face but didn’t seem to be using the full power of his fists. It was just a graze, enough to momentarily distract Jesse’s hungry eyes away from me. No blood or swelling lips. Yet.

They staggered and twisted through the tiny room, arms clamped around each other, falling and banging against the walls, their biceps contracting with the effort to restrain one another.