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Pace’s eyes drop to said melons, then he drags his gaze back to my face.

“I don’t like it,” Wick grumbles, tugging at the shoulder strap of the tank. “I like waking up with your bare tits in my hands, but see?” He tries again. “I can’t get under this thing.”

“I agree with him,” Pace says, sitting down next to me. His hand grabs the neck of my tank and yanks it down, exposing the top swell. “These are too fucking pretty to hide.”

His thumb sweeps over the top, dark brown over pale white. The jostling hurts, but it’s that weird kind of pain where I want more, and I bite back a cry, arching my back into his brother. Never one to let an opportunity go to waste, Wicker releases my other breast from under the fabric and closes his wide palm over it.

“Damn,” I exhale, sinking back into him

“Good? Bad?” Wick asks, hand stilling.

“A little of both, but don’t stop.” I look at Pace. “Either of you.”

He doesn’t hesitate, teasing his thumb over the tight peak of my nipple. That leads to a rush of euphoria, as if every nerve in my body is connected to that tiny nub. It must be why I barely hear the heavy footsteps padding down the hall or fully process Lex standing in front of us in nothing but a pair of shorts, face drawn.

“I told you this had too many risks,” he sighs, looking strangely haggard. His hair is still down, but it looks like it’s been tugged at all day long. “I’m trying to keep him safe.”

I reply, “By telling me what to do with my own body.” Unfortunately, my obstinate tone is belied by the crest of my moan.

“Okay, does someone want to explain what’s happening here?” Wick asks, shifting his hips next to me. He’s got a massive boner, and the movement does nothing to keep it from pressing into my hip. “I thought you two were fighting about that blood sample thing, which,” Wicker holds up a finger, “was a boss fucking move, Lex.”

Lex leans against the doorway, eyes rolling. “I told Verity earlier today that nipple play could possibly ease some of the strain she’s having in her breasts right now.” Pace opens his mouth to say something, but Lex cuts him a glare, adding, “But there’s also a risk of inducing premature labor.”

“I looked it up.” I don’t point out that while he’s lecturing us all, he’s staring at my tits. “And it’s very unlikely.”

“But there’s still a chance!” He throws his hands in the air. “And you know I’m unwilling to?—”

“Bruh,” Pace says, “you need to chill.”

Lex’s eyes narrow at his brother. “What did you say?”

“He said to chill,” Wick repeats. “We know you’re stressed, and worried, and have gone over every single worst-case scenario, but the Princess isn’t going to go into labor just because we suck on her tits.”

“You don’t know that,” Lex argues.

“I’ve watched enough porn to confirm it,” Pace states matter-of-factly, and a rush of heat travels between my legs. “If you want to supervise, then go for it,” he continues. “Take a seat. Get comfortable. And if anything even remotely concerning happens, we’ll stop.”

Lex’s amber eyes set on me, resignation clear on his face. “Is that what you want?”

“Yes.”Fuck. Yes.

“Fine.” He walks over to the armchair, drags it across from the couch, and sits. “If I see anything—one wince, one jerk, one sign that her body is going into labor—I’m stopping this.” He looks between us. “Understand?”

Wick sighs. “Leave it to the Doc over there to make something erotically named ‘nipple play’ as unsexy as possible.”

“It isn’t about sex,” Lex groans, running his palms down his face. “It’s about stress relief.”

He’s wrong, of course, but after finally getting something resembling approval, I’m not going to push it. I lean back into Wicker, who isn’t deterred by his brother’s commanding presence whatsoever. If anything, he’s probably more turned on, which is obvious when he goes straight for my breast.

That is, until Lex clears his throat. “You’re going to want to get skin-to-skin.”

“Huh?” Pace grunts.

Lex leans back in his seat, knees spread casually. “If Verity wants to stimulate real relief, you’re going to have to trick her body into thinking it’s ready for a change that’s not just on a physical level, but a chemical one.” His tongue darts out and licks his bottom lip. “We’re in the third trimester. The reason her breasts are so tender is because they’re already trying to acclimate to their new job: feeding.”

“Skin-to-skin? No problem there,” Wick mutters, pulling his T-shirt over his head. My belly drops, just like it does every time I see his body. I never get used to it—to any of them. With the extra layer of fabric gone, I can see how hard he is, and my nipples give a tingly pulse.

“You’re next, Rosi,” Pace says, and he and Wick work to peel off my shirt.