Page 10

The silence stretches between us in the booth, heavy with unspoken promises. I trace patterns on my coffee cup, my eyes darting between Gabe and Hank as my mind works overtime, analyzing, questioning, wondering.

“Ready to go home?” Hank’s voice comes gentle, but his tone leaves no room for debate.

My head snaps up, disappointment washing over me. “Right now?”

After everything we shared over coffee, the stories, the subtle touches, the promising looks—I thought the night was just beginning.

The possibility of dinner, maybe drinks, something to extend this rare and precious connection hangs in the air. A pang of rejection twists in my chest—why does he want to end this?

Hank’s eyes soften as understanding dawns on his face. His lips curve into a slight smile.

“Not your father’s home, luv. Our home.” He glances at Gabe, then back to me. “We’re taking you home with us.”

His words sink in slowly, then all at once .

Our home.

They’re taking me to their place. Not just for dinner or drinks like I hoped, but something far more intimate. This isn’t extending the date—this is skipping ahead several chapters.

“I think she’s finally figuring it out,” Gabe says to Hank, amusement lacing his voice. He turns to me, his eyes darkening. “We never planned on just meeting for coffee, sweetheart. The plan was always to take you with us.”

The directness of his statement steals my breath. Coffee had just been the pretense, the opening move in a game I didn’t realize we were playing.

Gabe leans closer, his breath warm against my ear. “Is that okay? Because we’re interested in far more than coffee.”

The words are phrased as a question, but something in his tone makes it clear he’s not asking permission—he’s letting me know exactly what I’m getting myself into.

“Oh,” I breathe, unable to hide my smile or the tremble in my voice.

Heat blooms in my chest, spreading outward until my skin tingles with electricity. What started as disappointment transforms into something more potent—anticipation, desire, and thrilling nervousness.

I hoped for a few more hours in their company, maybe a lingering goodnight kiss, perhaps something more. They’re offering something much deeper—an invitation into their private world, their sanctuary. The implications send a delicious shiver down my spine.

Gabe’s eyes darken as he notices my reaction. “Is that a yes?” His voice drops low, the question hanging between us.

I swallow hard, then nod. “Yes.”

His smile turns both predatory and pleased. “That’s great, because we’re leaving now.”

I glance down at our barely-touched coffees, surprise flickering through me again. “Now? We haven’t even finished our drinks.”

“Right now,” he confirms, voice rough with promise.

I study them both. What would it mean to go with them? What are they offering? Then something shifts inside me—acceptance, trust, recognition of what we could become together.

“Sh-sure.” I sway slightly, steadied only when Hank’s hand finds my lower back.

“Wait here with Gabe,” Hank murmurs against my ear. “I need to handle something first.”

I watch as Hank approaches my security team stationed near the door. From this angle, Harrison stiffens when Hank approaches. Though I can’t hear what they’re saying, the body language tells me enough?—

Hank stands tall, using his height to his advantage.

Harrison’s defensive posture gradually gives way to resignation.

“What’s happening?” I whisper to Gabe, my eyes locked on the confrontation.

“Hank’s making arrangements,” Gabe says cryptically, his arm sliding along the back of the booth behind me. “Your father’s security detail isn’t happy about it.”

My stomach tightens. “Harrison won’t let me leave.”

“He will.” Gabe’s confidence resonates as absolute. “Watch.”

Harrison pulls out his phone, jaw clenching as he reads something on the screen. He looks at me, a question in his eyes. When I nod, he signals his team, and they move out.

“How did Hank…?” I start, but Gabe smiles like a cat caught with a mouse.

“Friends in high places,” he says, echoing words I can’t hear but somehow know Hank is saying.

When Hank returns to our table, his stance radiates success. Gabe seems to read this immediately, but questions swirl in my widened eyes.

“It’s time to go,” Hank says.

Gabe moves first, sliding out of the booth. He extends his hand to me, the gesture both courteous and commanding. I hesitate for a heartbeat before placing my smaller hand in his, wondering if I’m making the right choice or the biggest mistake of my life .

This doesn’t feel like a mistake.

The walk to their vehicle charges the air like the moments before a thunderstorm. Hank’s hand finds its place at my lower back, guiding me while Gabe takes point. A black SUV waits in the corner of the lot, tinted windows reflecting the late afternoon sun.

Gabe opens the back door, but I pause, glancing between them. I slide in without another word. Some things don’t need to be spelled out.

Hank takes the wheel while Gabe claims the seat behind him, bracketing me between his body and the door. I settle into the leather, my shoulder brushing against Gabe’s. The contact draws a soft inhale from my lips.

The engine purrs to life, but none of us speak. The silence crackles with electricity and potential. Every mile brings us closer to their home, closer to crossing a line we can’t uncross.

My breath quickens when we turn onto an unfamiliar street, my fingers twisting nervously in my lap. Gabe’s hand covers mine, stilling the movement, and a small whimper escapes me.

Their condo welcomes me with subtle signs of their shared life—tactical gear stored carefully in the corners, evidence of two alpha males coexisting through careful boundaries and deep trust. The open-concept living area speaks of precision and power: clean lines, dark leather, and a state-of-the-art security system subtly integrated into the architecture. Two hallways branch off opposite sides, each leading to what must be separate rooms.

I move through the space like I’m cataloging evidence, my fingers trailing along the back of the leather couch, eyes taking in every detail. The wall of tactical gear catches my attention—weapons secured behind reinforced glass, body armor hung with military precision. My reflection fragments across the glass surface as I study the contents.

Hank and Gabe hang back, giving me space. This isn’t about seeing their home—it’s about understanding them—who they are, what they offer, and what we could become together.

I hesitate in the hallway, glancing between the two doors on opposite ends of the house, my brow furrowing slightly. “So … Do you have separate rooms?” My voice stays careful, feeling my way through the question.

“Yes,” Gabe answers smoothly.

I look between them, gathering my courage. “And you don’t … ?” The question trails off as heat rises to my cheeks.

Hank smirks. “We don’t sleep together, luv, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Unless we’re not alone,” Gabe adds, his tone carefully neutral.

I exhale slowly, nodding, but my curiosity remains unsatisfied. I lift my chin, meeting their eyes. “And do you … share often?”

“We always share.” Hank’s voice drops lower, sending a shiver down my spine.

I swallow hard, twisting my fingers together.

Hank moves closer, not touching me, but close enough that I have to tip my head back to meet his eyes.

“Sometimes it’s just a night,” he says carefully, his gaze intense. “Sometimes we find someone who wants more than that. Someone who fits.”

My pulse jumps in my throat. “And those times … ?”

“Have been fleeting.” He lets that sink in before continuing. “We’re looking for something more … substantial.”

“What does that mean?” My voice barely carries above a whisper.

He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away, and brushes a strand of hair from my face. “You already know what that means. You’re too smart not to have figured it out.”

His directness takes my breath away.

“We want you, sweetheart, and we don’t plan on letting you go.” Gabe’s words come out deeper and rougher than expected, but the message rings clear. He shifts closer, escalating the sexual tension between the three of us.

“I—I’ve read about … certain lifestyle choices.” My cheeks heat as I trail off.

“What kind of lifestyle choices?” Hank’s voice is steady but deceptively soft. I shift my weight, my gaze darting between him and Gabe, trying to gauge their reactions .

“Just … you know … ” My teeth catch my bottom lip as I look away.

“No,” Hank says firmly. “I don’t know. Tell me what you mean, luv.”

I fidget with the hem of my shirt, still avoiding eye contact. He catches my chin, tilting my face until I have no choice but to meet his stern gaze. A small gasp escapes my lips at the commanding gesture.

“When I ask you a question,” he says quietly, “I expect an answer.”

My pulse races under his fingers. “It’s just … the two of you seem a bit … ”

“A bit what?” He tightens his grip slightly when I try to look away again.

“Dominant.” The word comes out barely above a whisper, filling the space between us, but it also excites me.

“We can be whatever you need us to be,” he tells me gently. “But yes, we have certain … preferences in how we conduct our relationships.”

“Together?” My eyes dart between them.

“Yes, but in different ways.” They share a look. “We each have our unique style of control.”

“How so?” My voice trembles slightly, curiosity and excitement mixing into a heady, intoxicating mix.

Gabe steps closer, his presence a dark heat at my back. A slow, deliberate encroachment.

“Hank likes to be in charge,” he murmurs, his voice rich and smooth, like smoke curling around my senses. “He controls. Commands.” A smirk tugs at his lips, but the weight beneath his words is unmistakable. “And as you’ve already experienced, he demands answers when he asks questions.”

I swallow hard, my pulse skipping.

His voice dips lower, brushing against my skin like a secret. “I prefer the rawer side of things.”

A shiver rolls down my spine. Rawer? My fingers twitch at my sides, anticipation coiling low in my stomach.

“What does that mean?”

Gabe’s gaze darkens, his hand lifting, cupping the side of my face. His thumb skims along my cheekbone, featherlight, a contradiction to the intensity radiating from him.

“I like sex unfiltered. Unapologetic. And…” His lips hover near my ear, and he breathes a teasing caress. “Other things.”

I exhale sharply, heat licking up my spine. Other things.

Curiosity pushes the question from my lips before I can stop it. “What other things?”

He chuckles, low and knowing, his thumb drifting lower, tracing the line of my jaw. “I like darker things,” he whispers, his voice laced with wicked promise. “Things we’ll explore later… if you’re interested.”

My breath catches. Not from embarrassment. Not from uncertainty. From something else entirely.

Recognition.

I’ve dabbled before. Tried. But the so-called Doms had been boys playing at control, their dominance surface-level, their commands rehearsed, their touch more about performance than power.

I meet his gaze, my pulse hammering, my body already responding in ways I don’t bother to hide. “I’m… interested in darker things ,” I admit softly, surprised by my candor. “And I might be interested in exploring that with you.”

His eyes flare, approval and hunger woven together. “Might be?”

I lick my lips, breath unsteady. “Yes.”

Something dangerous flashes behind his gaze—satisfaction. Anticipation. Like he’s been waiting for that confirmation.

“Sometimes Hank has to talk me down.”

“I’m not afraid.” A shiver rolls through me, sharp and electric, not fear but excitement.

“Come on, you two.” Hank’s voice slides in, smooth but edged with amusement. “Plenty of time for that.” He moves past, his fingers brushing my wrist in a way that’s both grounding and possessive— a silent reminder of who’s in charge here .

Then Hank levels a look at Gabe, one brow arching, lips curving in that slow, knowing way.

“Let’s establish trust and boundaries before you scare her off with whips and chains.” A smirk tugs at his lips, teasing, but an unmistakable thread of authority is beneath it.

“I have a feeling she’s more interested than scared.”

“Back down, Gabe.”

It’s not an order, not exactly. More of a well-worn game between them, a push-and-pull that feels like second nature.

Gabe huffs a laugh, lifting his hands in mock surrender, but the wicked gleam in his eyes doesn’t dim.

“Are you scared, sweetheart?”

“Not even a little.” I swallow, heat curling low in my stomach.

Hank chuckles, shaking his head like he saw that coming a mile away.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters, amused. “You’re going to be trouble.” His gaze flicks to me, assessing, teasing. “Word of warning, luv—don’t need to encourage him. Gabe’s got enough bad ideas rattling around in his head without you adding fuel to the fire.”

Gabe grins, unrepentant.

Hank sighs, but there’s no real exasperation behind it—just amusement, threaded with something else, something warmer. He watches me for a second longer, eyes unreadable, then jerks his chin toward the door.

“Come on, before Gabe decides to put you through your paces with a full demonstration.”

Gabe smirks. “Don’t tempt me.”

Hank nudges my chin with a knuckle, his touch brief, but his meaning clear. “Let’s show her outside first.”

For the first time in days, my body thrums with something more than fear, more than anxiety.

Anticipation.

I don’t plan on pretending otherwise.

“ Unapologetic ,” Gabe mouths with a slight smirk, referencing his earlier words.

Heat rises to my cheeks, but something’s thrilling about their openness and the way they don’t dance around what they want. It’s refreshing after years of, and many failed attempts with, other men who fumbled with their desires and made themselves weak when they should’ve been strong.

There’s nothing weak about Gabe or Hank—they own who they are.

Hank’s hand settles at the small of my back, guiding me outside.