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“You’re the perfect gift for him.”

The man’s words echoed in Hazel’s mind as she stared bleakly out the car window. How had this happened to her? She’d been such a fool. She wished she had gone home with Blake. At least then she would be safe. Blake was a sexy asshole, but he would never hurt her.

She wasn’t sure how long they were in the car, but after they left Manhattan, she dozed off in the back seat, thanks to the martini. She was still a little groggy when she came awake to find herself in the mountain man’s arms again. He held her gently cradled against his chest as he strode up the steps to a beautiful mansion. The earthy scent that clung to him smelled like fresh-cut timber. Beneath all of that there was a softer, more male scent that belonged solely to him, and Hazel felt intensely and intimately aware of him as that aroma filled her head. His palms were calloused, and his fingers felt firm as he cradled her legs and her upper back, but not rough enough to bruise.

She made a soft sound against the gag, but he ignored her. The front door opened as they approached, and an older man in a black suit stared solemnly at them.

“Good evening, Mr. Wilde,” the man at the door said.

Mr. Wilde.Hazel looked up at the face of the man who carried her. Wilde. The name suited him. He seemed like some ancient wood god who had stepped out of a thousand-year-old forest and now walked among mortals for the first time.

When her captor noticed her staring up at him, he shot her a boyish grin before he addressed the man at the door.

“Evening, Chalmers. I have a gift for him, if he’s home.”

“I believe the master will enjoy her. Please come with me.” Chalmers offered Wilde an amused smile as he carried her down the hall to a pair of large oak doors. What she glimpsed, briefly, of the house made her think that it might be one of those old oil baron mansions she’d toured on the Gold Coast of Long Island. Yet the furnishings were sleek, modern. Everything had an understated elegance that spoke of money without being flashy. Whoever lived here had nothing to prove to anyone and seemed to just enjoy beauty. There were works of art on the walls, high vaulted ceilings, brilliantly lit chandeliers, and some rooms they passed had color schemes that seemed to come out of an interior designer’s fairy tale.

“The library, eh? He must be in a mood,” Wilde mused.

“Yes, he is. But I believe your gift will cheer him up.” The servant chuckled, as if all of this was entirely normal. Then he left them alone and walked back down the hall.

Hazel’s heart pounded wildly as the mountain man carried her into a vast library that had rows of shelves containing hundreds of books. At the far end of the room, a trio of wingback chairs faced the fireplace. A fire was lit, and it cracked and popped in an otherwise silent room that felt charged with a strange and exciting sort of energy. Hazel glimpsed a man’s hand resting on the arm of one of the chairs.

The master...It had to be. She noticed his sleeve had been rolled up, exposing a swath of tan skin. The muscles of his forearm moved as he swirled a glass of amber-colored liquor. Something about the intimacy of the scene sent her blood pounding through her veins. She couldn’t ignore the instinctive feminine desire that seeing a muscular male arm created in her.

“I have a present for you, old friend.” Wilde’s deep voice broke the silence.

Hazel lifted her head up to stare at him and made a soft whimpering sound, trying to plead with him.

“Hush, sweetheart, you’ll like him. I know it,” Wilde murmured to her.

She lowered her brows and tried to growl at him through the gag. This only made the bastard smile, as if he thought the sound was adorable.

The chair creaked and a man stood, silhouetted by the fire behind him as he downed the last of his drink and set the glass on a table. From his shape, Hazel could tell he was tall and well built. She wondered if his face was as beautiful as his silhouette hinted his body was. She shouldn’t care, she should be screaming and fighting, but something in her, something dark and delicious, was stirring like a covetous dragon rolling on its bed of gold.

“Mason.” The man spoke in a rich voice, and Hazel guessed that must be Wilde’s first name. But that bit of knowledge was quickly overshadowed by the realization that this man, this master’s voice was... familiar.

“I saw how much you wanted her tonight, and it’s been a while since you’ve had a pet,” Mason replied in his slightly gravelly voice.

“How you spoil me, old friend.” The silhouetted man stepped forward, and Hazel gasped against her gag as his face was suddenly illuminated by the light of a nearby lamp.

It was Blake.The kidnapper had brought her to Blake. She was torn between fury and relief, briefly followed by confusion. The two men had appeared to be strangers at the bar and had nearly come to blows over her. Yet now they were old friends?

“Hello, Hazel,” Blake said as he approached her. Mason set her down on her feet but kept his hands firmly on her shoulders, holding her in place. She glared at Blake as he reached out with his fingers to gently pry the gag from her mouth.

“London, you ass!”

“Hush,” Blake commanded gently. “You’re in no danger, Hazel. You know me.”

“This jerk kidnapped me!” She rammed her elbow hard into Mason’s stomach, and to her immense satisfaction, he grunted.

“Mason is an old childhood friend. You’ll have to forgive him his rough ways. He sees something he knows I want, and he acquires it for me. He’s thoughtful that way.”

She snorted. “Well, the joke’s over. I want to leave now,” Hazel stated.

Blake and Mason shared a silent, intense look, and she wondered if they had the ability to read each other’s minds.

“No, Hazel. I think you’ll be staying for a while,” Blake finally said. “Watching you win this afternoon, touching you at the lounge tonight... I realized that one night in law school of fucking you to within an inch of your life wasn’t enough. I want to hear you screaming my name while you’re coming around my cock.” He smiled, and her mouth went dry at his words.

“Actually, let me amend that, Counselor.” He brushed her hair back from her face and cupped the back of her neck, his fingers fisting in her hair. “I don’t want it—I need it. And I think you do too.”

His words, so possessively spoken, should have terrified her, but this was Blake. She did actually know him, that rich, arrogant bad boy she’d fallen for in law school. He was a heartbreaker, irresistible, perfect. There wasn’t a sane woman alive who wouldn’t go mad to have him, and that included her.

“One week. One week during which I will make you come harder than you’ve ever come before,” Blake murmured as he moved his hand to cup her chin. “Belong to me for seven nights and let me convince you that you want to stay forever.” He paused, his electric eyes sending sparks through her body. “And then, after... If you want to leave, I’ll let you go.”

No,she thought. This was how it started. If she let him have even one night, let alone seven, she might fall over that last precipice into the abyss that was loving this man—and she’d lose herself forever.

Blake brushed his thumb over her bottom lip, his blue eyes hot with white fire while he stared at her mouth as if it would save his soul.

“What do you have to lose?” Blake asked her.

My heart,she thought. That was why she’d run from him in the first place.

“Be my good girl again, Hazel.Your bed’s been cold too long and so has mine. You deserve to have a man fucking you in the way you need, the way you deserve, don’t you, baby?”

He had known what she needed that night. He had dominated her, pleasured her until she’d screamed so much her throat turned raw. He’d taken away all her worries and her fears, shown her how beautiful and desirable she was and that she was wonderful for trusting him and submitting to him. The power to say yes or no had always been hers, and they both knew it.

He watched her face, his eyes holding hers as he seemed to hear her inner thoughts, but he said nothing. He waited patiently like he had all the time in the world.

She stared at his mouth, knowing how exquisite his lips would feel on her flesh, and trailed her gaze down to his slightly open dress shirt. His tie was missing, and a hint of dark chest hair showed on his skin. She glanced down at her hands, seeing the fabric around her wrists and realizing it was a necktie. It was not one he had worn today, but it was one she recognized as his.

“Did you plan this?” she asked, lifting her bound hands to show him the tie around her wrists. Somehow Mason had it with him tonight to use when he’d kidnapped her from the bar. Surely they hadn’t orchestrated this whole thing together?

Blake gently captured her wrists, studying the necktie she showed him.

“I didn’t plan this, no, but Mason visits my house often. Did you steal this?” he asked the other man.

Mason laughed, and faint lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes, making Hazel realize he must smile and laugh often. “I did.”

“You did well,” Blake said. “You know, Hazel, Mason and I were supposed to meet for drinks tonight, even though I knew it was your night to drink there. But then he defended you, and I left with my tail firmly between my legs, which quite ruined my night. I was afraid you might go home with him rather than me.”

Now Mason was the one who chuckled. “I wanted her to be a surprise for you.”

Hazel stared at Mason, then at Blake, feeling like a kitten caught between two large wolves.

“You weren’t really going to fight?” She was oddly relieved. As much as she’d been initially aroused by the idea, now she didn’t want to see them fight over her, even though she was still pissed as hell that Mason had just grabbed her from the bar like some creepy stalker.

“Never. We are as close as brothers,” Mason said.

“Great,” Hazel muttered. She tried to pull free of the gentle but firm weight of Mason’s hands still on her shoulders.

“Hazel.” Blake murmured her name in a way that reminded her of midnight whispers and silk sheets sliding against skin. “What’s it to be? One week with me?” he asked.

“I’ve got work...” She tried to think of any excuse.

“Mason will retrieve your laptop and any work files you need, but I want you here. So I can have access to you whenever I want. But I know for a fact you were going to take a week off soon, for vacation. I’m sure if you called your paralegal tomorrow, she could handle things until you got back.”

She arched a brow. He was right. She had been planning to fly to some hot island and lie on a beach beneath palm trees. “What about me and what I want?”

His lips kicked up in that grin that had captured her heart in law school.

“You’ll have access to me too. Anytime you want me, I’m yours, Hazel.”

I’m yours.Such simple words, yet they made her dizzy like she’d drunk champagne too quickly. One of the smartest, sexiest lawyers in New York City, who could have anyone he wanted... had just said he’d be hers. Oh God...

“I...” She was tongue-tied, but as always Blake seemed to know just what to do to win her over. That was what made him so dangerous.

He moved closer, pressing her back against Mason, trapping her between the two of them so she had no escape as he fisted a hand in her hair at the base of her neck. Then he kissed her. Hard. It was a delicious, overwhelming assault on her senses as she tasted scotch and sin on his lips. It only added to the burning intensity of the moment.

His tongue plunged between her lips and decadently flicked against hers, mimicking the thrusting of lovemaking. His fingers tightened slightly in her hair, creating a whisper of pain that she liked, and it made her whimper against his mouth. He kissed her even more ruthlessly now, seeming determined to erase any resistance she might have left to him. She was all too aware of his hardness and the mirrored hardness of Mason behind her. She couldn’t escape, but did she even want to?

When he finally let her breathe, she panted softly, her lips feeling bruised from his kisses.

“Give yourself to me,” he commanded in a rough whisper. “You know I’ll take care of my good girl, won’t I?” She saw his control was fraying. God, she loved knowing she could make him lose control like that.

“Y—yes,” she replied.

His lips curved and he cupped her cheek in one palm. “Good girl. There’s just one more thing...”

“What?”

“Mason and I share everything.”

She blinked, dazed as she tried to process what he’d said. “Share? Share what?”

“You. For the next week, you’re not just mine. You’re his too. Now show Mason what a good girl you are for him.” He turned her toward Mason, and she stared up at the chiseled hardness of the blond-haired giant. Mason’s expression was one of raw hunger, the kind that promised a violent rush of pleasure if she gave herself over to it... to him. He would fuck her hard, would make her see stars, and oh God, she needed that more than anything in that moment.

His calloused fingers gently captured her chin and tilted her face up as he lowered his head. For such a fierce man, his kiss began softly, almost sweetly, yet there was an underlying carnality to it that made her shiver deliciously. As if emboldened by her response, he parted her lips with his tongue and kissed her, slowly, seductively, with a surprising sensuality that she did not expect from a man like this.

She moaned, unable to resist reacting to him as desire throbbed between her thighs. Blake’s hand slid around her waist, holding her tight against him from behind as he whispered in her ear.

“Just imagine taking the both of us, being surrounded by us, filled by us. How would you like that?” He flicked his tongue into the shell of her ear, and she felt his hardness press against her lower back. “We would leave no part of you untouched and unloved. You would be worshipped like the goddess you are and claimed as our prize.”

She wouldn’t like it. She would love it. But she would probably die from an overload of pleasure.

She whimpered as Blake cupped her breasts, kneading them gently and lightly pinching her nipples.

“I want you out of this fucking dress,” he growled, and the primal anger in his voice at her clothing daring to come between her body and his made her tremble with excitement. She’d always liked it when he got a little rough in his eagerness.

“Strip her,” Mason urged him. “I need to see this little beauty bared to me.” Then Mason was kissing her again, that soft mouth of his now hard and hungry on hers.

Blake’s hands tore at the zipper on the back of her dress as he yanked it down and tugged it free of her body. She wore only a lacy pale-pink bra with matching panties beneath the dress. Whenever she faced off against Blake in a business deal, she liked to secretly wear her sexiest lingerie. It felt like her secret superpower, because the way he looked at her made her certain he knew exactly what she wore beneath her elegant suits and dresses. And the feral gleam in the polished lawyer’s eyes made her wet.

“You always know how to bring out the caveman in me,” Blake whispered harshly against her skin before he bit into the soft flesh at the crook of her neck.

His hands roved over her belly, her hips, and back up to her breasts, first cupping them and then pinching her nipples lightly through the thin lace.

Mason’s mouth still moved over hers, trapping her focus on him as he gripped her shoulders with those large warm hands. The coarse fabric of Mason’s jeans rubbed against her bare thighs, and he nudged her legs apart so that she was forced to ride his leg, rubbing her clit through her panties against his hard quads.

Blake’s expensive suit felt soft as silk against her skin along her back. He continued to flick his tongue against her ear and nibble at her neck, as though he wanted to leave a mark. When Mason ran his fingers through her hair and tugged gently on the strands in tandem with Blake lightly pinching her nipples, it was too much.

She wasn’t ready for Blake’s sensual assault, not with Mason’s mouth so hungrily ravishing hers. She came suddenly, hard, like a grenade detonating with no warning.

“Shit, she just came from a damn kiss,” Mason growled against her lips. His hands cupped her face and he stared into her eyes, absorbing her expression as pleasure rolled through her body. She stared back at him, utterly enraptured by the cinnamon fire of Mason’s brown eyes.

“She’s always been so responsive. It’s why she’s such a good girl for me, and now she’ll be a good girl for you too.” Blake’s exploring fingers stroked along the tops of her breasts, flirting with the lines of the lace cups of her bra. Her nipples turned into even harder diamond points. She desperately wanted a mouth sucking on them, but she was still shaking from the surprise orgasm and her speech was limited as she slowly descended from her height of pleasure.

“I think our pet needs to be in bed,” Blake said, seeming to notice her legs trembling even though she was partially braced against one of Mason’s thighs.

Our pet.The way he said that, the way he was happy to share her with Mason, was the most erotic thing she’d ever heard in her life. She’d always had fantasies about being shared between two men.

“Take her up to my bedroom,” Blake told Mason. “I’ll grab her clothes.”

Mason scooped her up in his arms as though she weighed nothing at all. She wasn’t tiny, but she could get used to being carried around like this. She curled her arms around Mason’s neck and felt his muscles harden beneath her fingertips. He walked out of the library and down the hall to a bedroom at the back of the large mansion.

A massive four-poster king-size bed stood against one wall. It had crisp white sheets and dark-green accent pillows. String lights twined around the posts and trailed in lines down the back of the massive carved mahogany headboard. There was a hint of romanticism in the setup that made her feel oddly comforted and excited at the same time. She hadn’t expected Blake to have a bedroom like this. Pale-green vines had been painted on the cream-colored walls, making the room feel a little bit like a garden, yet it was completely masculine.

Mason set her down on the bed and turned to Blake as he joined them. He had retrieved her dress from the floor, along with her clutch purse, which Mason had carried in from the car when they’d first arrived. He set them both on top of the dresser, next to a black-and-silver box, open to reveal a row of expensive wristwatches. When he turned to face her, he absently twisted the signet ring on his left pinkie finger, which caught her attention.

The night he had taken her to bed in law school, that signet ring had left imprints all over her hips from where he’d gripped her hard while railing her from behind. She had loved every faint mark from that ring, because they had been marks of his possession. She closed her thighs, aware of how dripping wet she was as the two men stood side by side facing her.

“How the hell did you ever let her go?” Mason asked Blake.

Blake nodded, his gaze burning into hers. “Yes, the one that got away. I didn’t know she’d run, or I would have tied her to my bed and seduced her into staying with me forever.”

“Well she’s not going anywhere now.” Mason flashed that boyish grin and reached for the buttons of his flannel shirt. “You’re ours now, sweetheart. Blake may have let you go, but I won’t. Once you’ve had me inside you, you’ll never want to leave.”

If any other man besides one of the two in this room had said that, she would have laughed at their egos, but she believed Mason. She’d only had a taste of him so far, but that single, explosive taste told her that he would own her just as Blake had. She scooted back a little on the massive bed, suddenly very aware of how nearly naked she was in front of two men intent on fucking the life out of her. She shivered as she watched them share a knowing glance that charged the room with even more awareness of what was to happen between the three of them. Her skin flushed and she swallowed hard, noticing the bulge in Mason’s jeans. He was big, like Blake. Oh God... Could she even take them both?

She should run, get the hell out of there before she lost herself to these two men, but as she watched Blake unbutton his dress shirt while Mason peeled his flannel shirt off his darkly bronzed skin, she knew what her fate would be. No more running. If she had a week with them, she wanted to make every minute count. She wouldn’t think about what would happen when their seven days were over. There was only this... only pleasure.