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“Thanks,” I replied dryly. “Always nice to know I’m appreciated for my natural scent.”

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “Shower,” he repeated, softer this time. “We’ll wait.”

The hot water was heavenly after the emotional roller coaster of the past few hours. I took my time, using the obscenely expensive products lined up in the shower, trying to process everything that had happened. I’d confessed my love to them. After four years of running, of denying, of pretending I didn’t care, I’d finally admitted the truth.

And they’d said they loved me too.

When I finally emerged, wrapped in a towel that was softer than any fabric had a right to be, I found a crisp white dress shirt laid out on the counter. No underwear, no pants—just the shirt. I rolled my eyes but put it on anyway, the hem falling to mid-thigh, the sleeves hanging past my fingertips until I rolled them up.

I found all three brothers in the kitchen, moving around each other with the synchronized grace of men who’d lived together for years. The open-concept space flowed seamlessly from kitchen to dining area to living room, all of it decorated in the same minimalist luxury as the rest of the stronghold.

“Perfect timing,” Keir said, his eyes darkening as they took in my appearance—barefoot, hair still damp, wearing nothing but Cade’s shirt. “Food’s ready.”

They’d prepared a simple meal—pasta, garlic bread, salad—but my stomach growled again at the sight of it. I settled onto the plush sofa, acutely aware of how the shirt rode up my thighs as I did so.

“Eat,” Cade instructed, handing me a loaded plate before taking a seat on my right.

I’d barely taken two bites before I felt Logan settle on my left, his hand sliding under the shirt to rest on my bare thigh. His mouth found the sensitive spot just below my ear, teeth grazing the skin in a way that made me shiver.

“Logan,” I protested, batting ineffectively at his hand, “I’m trying to eat here. Four years of freedom and I’ve forgotten how impossible it is to complete a single task with you three around.”

“So eat,” he murmured against my neck, his hand tightening possessively on my thigh. “Not my fault if you’re easily distracted.”

“Says the man who’s practically giving me a hickey while I’m trying to swallow pasta,” I retorted, though the breathless quality of my voice undermined any attempt at dignified outrage.

I managed another bite, only to nearly choke on it when Keir knelt in front of me, his fingers finding the buttons of the shirt with practiced ease.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” I asked, arching an eyebrow as he methodically unfastened each button. “I don’t recall requesting a personal valet service.”

“Making sure you don’t ruin Cade’s favorite shirt,” he replied with angelic innocence that wouldn’t have fooled a blind man. “You’ve always been a messy eater.”

“I have never been a messy—” My indignant response died as he spread the fabric open completely, cool air hitting my exposed skin. The hunger in his eyes as he surveyed my naked body made me feel simultaneously self-conscious and ridiculously powerful.

His gaze lingered on my cock, which—traitor that it was—was already responding to their attentions despite my best efforts to maintain some semblance of dignity.

“Still so small and pretty,” Keir murmured appreciatively, his fingers hovering just centimeters away. “I’ve often wondered if anyone else has touched what’s ours these past four years.”

I shot him a glare that should have incinerated him on the spot. “First of all, there is nothing ‘small’ about me. The word you’re looking for is ‘perfect.’ Second, what I do with my body is none of your?—”

“No one has,” Logan interrupted with infuriating certainty, his nose brushing against my pulse point. “We would have felt it. The bond would have let us know.”

“That’s not how it works,” I protested automatically, though the lie tasted bitter on my tongue. The truth was, I hadn’t been with anyone else—hadn’t even wanted to, though I’d never admitted that to myself. Maya at the coffee shop had tried setting me up on dates for years, and I’d always found excuses. Art deadlines. Work commitments. Never the truth: that no one else had ever made my heart race the way these three insufferable alphas did.

“Isn’t it?” Cade asked, his knowing gaze making me squirm. One eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly aristocratic way that always made me want to simultaneously slap him and kiss him senseless.

“You’ve been utterly faithful, little fox,” he continued, his voice a caress. “Even when you were running from us. Even when you thought we didn’t want you.”

My cheeks burned with embarrassment. “That doesn’t mean?—”

“I’ve had dreams,” Keir interrupted, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Vivid dreams of you touching yourself, thinking of us. Always around the same time every night. Usually featuring that fantasy about Logan’s desk in his office.”

“Oh my God,” I groaned, mortification washing over me as I realized what he was implying. “You did not just— That’s not— I never?—”

“The bond works both ways,” Cade confirmed, his hand sliding up to cup my neck in a possessive gesture that shouldn’t have been as comforting as it was. “What you feel, we feel. What you dream, we dream. What you desire…”

“We desire,” Logan finished, his hand sliding higher on my thigh.

“That’s a horrifying invasion of privacy,” I sputtered, though my body was betraying me with every passing second. “So for four years, you’ve been, what, supernatural Peeping Toms? Getting off on my private moments?”