Page 50 of Push My Buttons

I squeeze back, gratitude washing through me. They're not demanding explanations or pushing for answers. They're giving me space, giving me time.

Jace's fingers trace patterns on my stomach, his touch soothing. "Whatever you want to tell us, whenever you're ready," he murmurs. "No pressure."

The acceptance in his voice, in both their expressions, makes tears prick behind my eyes. I've spent so long hiding, so long keeping my worlds separate, that I don't quite know how to process having them all converge like this.

But as I lie between them, their warmth surrounding me, their hands gentle on my skin, I feel something I haven't felt in years: safe. Not just physically, but emotionally. Like maybe, just maybe, I can stop running. Stop hiding.

The thought is terrifying and exhilarating in equal measure. Because letting them in—truly letting them in—means risking everything. It means telling them about Lucien, about why I don't speak, about the flowers in my apartment and the pendant with my real name.

It means trusting them with my darkest secrets and my deepest fears.

But as Theo presses a kiss to my shoulder and Jace's fingers lace with mine, I think perhaps I'm finally ready to take that risk.

Because for the first time since I lost my voice all those years ago, I want to be heard. And these men, against all odds, seem ready to listen.

Chapter 19

Wren

Asharpknockatthe door shatters the peaceful moment between us. I freeze instantly, my body tensing between Jace and Theo. The sound feels like an intrusion from another world—the real world—breaking into this bubble we've created.

I push myself up, scanning the floor for something to cover myself with. Theo grabs a plush robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door and hands it to me. I slip it on, securing the belt tightly around my waist as another knock sounds.

"Wait,"I sign to them, motioning for them to stay put.

They both nod, watching as I move toward the door. I pause with my hand on the knob, taking a deep breath to steady myself before opening it just enough to see who's there.

A young woman stands in the hallway, holding several bags. "Your clothes," she says. "Lorna thought you might want them."

I take the bags from her with a small nod. One is the bag I brought with me while I’m assuming the others belong to the guys.

"Thank you,"I sign automatically, the movement as natural to me as breathing.

She nods, either understanding the sign or simply getting the general meaning. "No problem. Have a good night." Her smile turns slightly mischievous before she turns and walks away.

I nod again, grateful for Lorna's consideration, and close the door gently. When I turn around, both Jace and Theo are watching me with identical expressions of fascination.

"What?"I sign, suddenly self-conscious under their scrutiny.

"Nothing," Jace says, his eyes following my hands with rapt attention. "Just... you're so fluid when you sign. It's beautiful to watch."

Theo nods in agreement, but I notice his gaze isn't on my hands—it's on my face, specifically the flush I can feel spreading across my cheeks. "You're still turned on," he observes, his voice dropping lower. "Even after everything we just did."

I roll my eyes at him, but don't deny it. My body is still humming with residual pleasure, sensitive in ways I'd forgotten were possible.

I set the bags down on a nearby chair and open my own, finding my jeans and sweater. As I turn to change in the bathroom, Jace's voice stops me.

"We should take you home," he says quietly but firmly. "You shouldn't be going back alone, especially this late."

The protectiveness in his tone makes something warm unfurl in my chest.

"He's right," Theo adds, his tone lighter but with an unmistakable undercurrent of genuine concern. "Besides, I'm not ready to say goodnight yet. The night is young, and so are we... relatively speaking."

I pause, suddenly uncertain. Taking them back to my place, even the temporary place I have at the hotel, means inviting them fully into my life—not just the carefully constructed personas I've created, but the messy, complicated reality. Am I ready for that?

My hesitation must show on my face because they both sit up straighter, instantly alert. I shift my weight from one foot to the other, my hands halfway through signing a response before I stop, unsure what I even want to say.

"If this is too much, too fast, we get it," Jace says, his voice gentle. "We'll go slow."