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Pace’s brows knit up tightly, his eyes pinging to the chair. “For what?”

I smile prettily. “Foryourknees, of course.”

It’s evident when he comprehends, all mirth disappearing from his features. “You’re overplaying your hand, Rosi.”

“And you’re under-licking my cunt.”

“Monday will be me,” Pace says, rising from his seat to tower over me. “That’s when you make your choice, during dinner with us and Father.” He holds my stare, tone brooking no argument. “Next week is mine.”

I scoot my chair back and stand, taking the card with me as I crane my neck up to meet the challenge in his eyes. “That’s for me to decide, and if I’m going by merit, then you should know…” I strain up on my toes to whisper, “Wicker licks my pussy like a hot sundae.”

I pull away only long enough to catch the flash of murderous fury in his eyes before I sweep out of the room.

* * *

As Lex promised,I’m no longer greeted for bed by a glass of warm milk. To be fair, the milk is also on the tray, but he hands me the cup of tea and promptly takes the milk into the bathroom and dumps it down the sink.

“Don’t tell Danner,” he says when he returns with the empty glass. “He means well, but Father’s rule goes above all.”

I sniff the tea, smelling the ginger, and pretend like Lex didn’t just reveal another secret being held in this house. “This isn’t Wicker’s tea, is it? I know it has bourbon.”

“No, I prepared it myself.”

I take a sip, the familiar, soothing taste warm all the way down. “Thank you.”

As I’d promised, I’ve done everything he asked of me. I swallowed the prenatal vitamin the size of a horse pill and managed to keep it down. I ate the meals prepared for me without complaint. I monitored my sodium levels and wore the heartbeat monitor while I was doing my homework. And now, under the dim light of the bedside sconces, I pick up the pregnancy book he had delivered to me in West End. I won’t admit it, but it actually is helpful.

On ‘his side’ of the bed, he strips off his shirt and the loose sweatpants that hang low on his hips. I’m aware of him all the time now, searching for the little signals. Is it a light on or light off night? Will he pull that hair tie out or wait for me to do it?

And exactly what will happen when I tell him no?

Because that’s my plan, or so I remind myself as I keep my eyes on my book and not the thick bulge under his gray boxer briefs. Standing my ground with Pace this morning had an impact, and it’s time for me to do the same with Lex, regardless of the way my body feels as he gets into bed, under the covers, and picks up his glasses and book from the bedside table. He slides the glasses on and goes to the bookmarked page in‘Deciphering DNA.’

We sit beside one another in this amicable quiet until he closes the book with a snap, pulls out the tie in his hair, and reaches for the light.

“Not tonight,” I say before he switches it off.

His forehead creases.“What do you mean?”

“Like I said, not tonight.” He stares at me behind those glasses, a million emotions rushing across his face. A thick tendril of hair hangs by his cheek. “I know why you turn the lights off, so you’re not recorded. I know you made an agreement with Pace and Wicker about no sex, and you’re violating it.”

“My arrangements with my brothers are none of your business.” He reaches for me, but I move quickly across the bed, grabbing a pillow and clutching it against my chest. “You can’t deny me, Princess.”

“I can, and you know it.” I lift my chin. Physically, he’s right. I can’t outmatch any of them. But sex is on my terms. It’s in the covenant. “I said no.”

His hands thrust into his hair, pushing at the auburn strands. “No one gives a fuck what you say, Verity. Take off those panties, or I'll do it for you.”

I shake my head, pretending like my resolve isn’t about to break.

Dark anger flickers across his face, and in a blink, he’s on top of me, wrenching the pillow out of my hands and throwing it off the bed. His thick erection burrows between my thighs, and his wide hand clamps around my throat. With the heat of his breath fanning across my face, I see him for who he is under that careful façade.

Lagan.

“I need this,” he growls. “I need your body—to feel your pussy clenching around me. I need to feel my cock balls-deep. I need every fucking ounce of me left inside.” His mouth is on my shoulder, teeth bearing down. “I don’t want it, Princess, no more than you do, but I can’t stop until I’ve worked you out of my system. Just like the fucking Scratch.”

He’s wrong. I do want it. The rush of blood pulses between my legs like an erratic heartbeat, and I’ve been wet since he took off his shirt. This is bigger than biological need. This is about driving a wedge between these men—it’s about me taking control.

“You can’t,” I tell him, placing my hands on his hard chest for stability as I force my hips not to rise, “youpromised.”