Page 21

The question hangs in the air, intimate and loaded. The kitchen suddenly feels smaller, warmer. Gabe’s eyes darken as they lock with mine, that predatory focus I’m becoming too familiar with.

“Curious, sweetheart?” His voice drops an octave, a rumble that skims along my nerves.

“Obviously.” I refuse to squirm under his gaze.

Coffee steam curls between us as Hank shifts in his chair. His powerful arms fold across his chest, muscles flexing beneath his T-shirt. The amused glint in his eyes tells me he’s enjoying my discomfort a little too much.

“Funny enough, it wasn’t planned,” Hank says, voice measured in that way that makes me want to hear what comes next. “We served together—same SEAL team. We knew each other, but we weren’t close.”

“Not really,” Gabe adds, running a thumb along the rim of his mug. “We respected each other, sure. Had each other’s backs in the field. But outside of missions? Different circles entirely.”

Hank nods. “We’d grab beers with the team sometimes, but that was about it. I was the quiet one?— ”

“And I was the loud-mouth troublemaker,” Gabe interjects with a grin. “We weren’t exactly looking to hang out.”

“So what changed?” I ask, leaning forward despite myself.

Gabe’s eyes spark with mischief. “We ran into each other at a BDSM club in San Diego.”

My eyebrows shoot up, coffee cup freezing halfway to my lips. “Excuse me?”

Hank chuckles, the sound low and knowing. “Yeah. Pure coincidence. I was there running a scene when I felt someone watching. Looked up to see this jackass staring at me from across the room. Eyes as big as saucers.”

“I couldn’t believe it,” Gabe says, his expression a mixture of amusement and something darker. “The stoic, straight-laced, by-the-book teammate I thought I knew was a kinky fucker expertly binding a woman who was begging for more. Let’s just say it made me see him in a whole new light.”

I shift in my chair, pressing my thighs together, because Hank in his element, commanding me? God help me; it makes me hot.

“And you?” I ask Gabe, struggling to keep my voice even. “You were just watching?”

His smile turns wolfish. “Oh no, sweetheart. I was with someone else. Things shifted when Hank and I realized we had… shared interests that went beyond tactical training.”

“What were you doing specifically?” I ask Hank, my voice a little too casual, betraying more interest than I’d like.

Hank’s lips curve into something dangerous. “What I do best. Taking control.”

Gabe leans in slightly, tapping his fingers against his mug. “I’d seen a lot of Doms before—guys who could handle a woman, knew how to push limits, work with restraint, all that.” He tilts his head toward Hank. “But this guy? I’d never seen someone own a scene like he did. He was deep in her head, and she was begging, pleading… It was impressive.”

“It was impossible not to notice Gabe watching me,” Hank adds. “After my scene wrapped up, I went looking for him.”

“We grabbed a drink after,” Gabe says. “Talked shop like we were discussing mission parameters. Turned out we had complementary styles.”

“So what… you just decided one day to team up?” My voice comes out huskier than intended.

Gabe shrugs, grinning. “I was working a scene one night. Hank was watching. One thing led to another, and I figured—why not? Two Doms. One submissive. Double her pleasure. No jealousy. Just two guys who could push a woman exactly where she needed to go.”

Hank leans back in his chair, stretching one arm over the backrest, his other hand nursing his coffee. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something in how he watches Gabe that makes my stomach tighten. Gabe, meanwhile, is completely relaxed, one ankle propped on his knee, his fingers drumming lightly against the ceramic of his mug.

“It wasn’t planned,” Hank adds. “I caught his eye across the room. He nodded. One moment I was observing, the next I was beside him, pushing her, giving her the illusion of force while he worked her body.”

A sharp pulse of heat shoots through me. The words register, but their full meaning takes a moment to sink in. When it does, I nearly choke on my coffee.

“Illusion of force?” I repeat carefully, setting my mug down with deliberate slowness. “You mean…”

Hank’s gaze meets mine, one eyebrow slightly raised. “Yes.” Just that. Nothing more. The single word somehow more powerful than any explanation could be.

My pulse quickens. I’ve read about this, but never encountered it so directly, so matter-of-factly discussed over breakfast.

“Just like that?” My hands tremble slightly as I reach for my coffee, taking a slow sip to buy myself time.

“It’s like when we were in the field,” Hank explains. “You develop a sixth sense about your teammates, know what they’re capable of, and know when to rely on them.”

Gabe watches me, his voice smooth as sin. “That was the first time. But it worked so well… it wasn’t the last. ”

“It became a thing,” Hank says. “We started planning scenes together, discussing techniques, perfecting our approach.”

Gabe smirks. “We realized we liked it. The balance, the control, the way we could push a submissive further together than we ever could alone.”

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. “Non-consent?”

Gabe’s eyes darken. “Consensual non-con. Not real force. Fantasy. The illusion of being overwhelmed and taken.”

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. “And you enjoy that? The… taking?”

“I do,” Gabe admits, his gaze unwavering. “I told you I like sex unapologetic and raw. I like to dance on the edge, enjoy the intensity, and the trust in a willing submissive to let me take her there.”

I glance at Hank, whose expression has shifted subtly. “But you don’t?”

“I’m not wired that way,” Hank says simply. “Never been into causing pain or fear. Not my thing.”

The connection to his father is immediate, but I don’t need to point it out. Instead, I ask, “Then why participate at all?”

A slow smile curves his mouth. “Just because I don’t enjoy causing pain doesn’t mean I don’t get off watching Gabe do what he does best.” His eyes hold mine. “I like control. Restraint. Having a woman completely at my mercy, bound and helpless. Doing that, then turning her over to Gabe, knowing she must endure him before I release her… there’s a power in that you can’t imagine.”

“He likes waiting, watching,” Gabe adds with a knowing look at his partner. “Hank gets off on watching me take someone apart, knowing he’s going to put her back together after.”

Hank’s smile turns dangerous. “There’s something about holding a woman while she’s being pushed to her limits. Being that anchor point, that safety.” He shrugs. “Different approaches. Same result.”

“So you’re the good cop?” I ask Hank, trying to understand.

He laughs, a dark sound that makes my skin prickle. “Don’t ever kid yourself, Ally. I’m still a Dom. Still want control. I’m just not a sadist.”

“We balance each other,” Gabe says. “I push harder. Hank keeps me in check. Works for us.”

I nod slowly, processing everything. These two dangerous men with their carefully contained power, their commitment to boundaries, their contrasting approaches to dominance—it’s overwhelming and intriguing in equal measure.

“And me?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Is that what you want from me?”

They exchange a glance that feels like an entire conversation.

“We want you,” Hank says. “However, you come to us. Whatever you’re willing to give. Whatever boundaries you set, we respect them. That’s non-negotiable.”

Gabe’s eyes lock with mine, intense and uncompromising. “But yeah, we want to push you. Test your limits.” His mouth curves into that wicked smile. “Find out what makes you break and then put you back together.”

“We can take you places you’ve never imagined,” Hank adds, his voice a low promise that makes my core clench. “If you’re brave enough to let us.”

The challenge in his words sends liquid heat through my veins. I’m terrified and thrilled in equal measure.

“I…” I take a deep breath. “I need a minute to process all this.” I wrap both hands around my mug, anchoring myself. “I’ve never had men talk to me like this before—so openly about what they want, about domination, about… any of it.”

Gabe’s eyebrows lift. “Your previous partners never discussed these things with you?”

I let out a short laugh. “God, no. It was always fumbling in the dark, hoping we’d somehow end up on the same page.” I shake my head. “No one’s ever been this upfront about anything sexual.”

“That’s …” Hank frowns.

“Bullshit,” Gabe finishes for him. “How the hell can you give someone what they need if you don’t know what that is?”

Something in their expressions shift—concern replacing the hunger from moments before.

“We didn’t mean to overwhelm you,” Hank says, his voice gentler now. “Being direct is just… how we operate. In the field, in bed?—”

“In life,” Gabe adds.

“We’ve found honesty works better than mind games.” Hank watches me carefully. “Have we scared you off?”

I shake my head immediately. “No. It’s… refreshing.” I hesitate, remembering something. “Earlier, when I snuck that piece of bacon, and you… ” I feel my cheeks flush. “When you swatted my ass and mentioned punishment. Did you mean that the way I think you did?”

“Yes.” His eyes darken.

The promise in his words sends a shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with fear.

A quiet settles between us, something charged but comfortable.

I set my mug down, tracing the rim with my fingertip, my voice softer now. “This is crazy,” I murmur, more to myself than them. Need still thrums through me, barely contained.

Hank lifts a brow. “What is?”

I let my gaze drift between them, taking them in—really taking them in. Two men who should be intimidating as hell. Two men who have saved my life. Who have taken me in ways no one ever has. Who aren’t asking for anything, and yet, I feel the pull of them, both of them, in ways that have nothing to do with sex.

I smile, stirring my coffee. “Being here. With you two. It’s insane.” I glance up. “And yet… it feels right.”

A beat.

Gabe’s smirk fades, his expression softening, something unreadable flickering in those sharp blue eyes.

“We’re glad you feel that way,” he says, voice lower now, more serious.

Hank nods, eyes dark and steady. No teasing now, no smirking—just intent. He leans forward, forearms braced on the table, voice dropping into something that feels like a promise. “You’re the missing piece we didn’t know we were looking for.”

My breath catches.

I don’t move. I don’t speak.

Because this isn’t something I expected.

These past few days have been an indulgence of sex—an over-indulgence . It’s new and raw and consuming.

I swallow hard, my fingers curling around my coffee mug as warmth spreads through my chest, heady and unfamiliar. The raw need from moments ago transforms into something deeper—something that goes beyond the carnal pull of their dominance.

Gabe watches closely, like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

Like he sees it.

Hank, as always, cuts straight to the truth. “Does that scare you, luv? That we see a future with you?”

I should lie. I should laugh it off, make a joke, and keep it light.

But I don’t.

“No. It does not.” I lift my chin, meeting his gaze head-on.

A quiet settles between us, something weightier than physical attraction. I take another sip of my coffee, and Hank pushes back his chair.

“Alright, breakfast is done,” he says, standing. “Time to clean up.”

I grab my plate, standing as well. “I’ll help.”

But before I can take a step, Gabe shakes his head. “Nope. Not your job.”

I arch a brow. “Excuse me?”

He gestures toward the sink, where Hank is already rinsing plates. “Hank cooks. I clean. That’s how it works.”

Hank glances over his shoulder. “We’ve got a system. Been this way for years.”

I cross my arms, giving him a look. “So what? I’m just supposed to sit around like a spoiled princess while you two do all the work?”

“Yes.” Hank smirks. “Glad we’re on the same page, luv.”

I huff, shoving my plate into his hands. “You two are ridiculous.”

“Why don’t you use this time to work on your thesis?” Gabe collects the remaining mugs. There’s something in his tone—not quite a question, more of a directive wrapped in the illusion of choice.

My spine straightens in response to his subtle command before my mind registers it. It’s becoming a pattern—this easy slide into compliance when either speaks with that edge of authority.

And they’ve noticed. Of course, they did. Each time I yield and follow their lead, they take another inch of control. The way Gabe’s eyes linger on me now, assessing, approving—sends a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with the coffee.

“Get some actual work done while we handle this,” he adds, and despite the casual words, there’s no mistaking it now. This is not a suggestion.

“Fine,” I say, moving toward my computer. “I should organize some of my research notes anyway.”

I settle onto one of the barstools, opening my laptop. It wakes from sleep mode, the screen brightening to reveal the document I was working on last night before… distractions happened. The display glitches for a second, flickers, then returns to normal.

Last night. The memory of their hands on me, how they took turns, and how they worked together. It was intense, passionate, and consuming—but still just scratching the surface of what they described over breakfast.

My fingers hover above the keyboard, but my mind is miles away from my thesis. What they’d spoken about—the “illusion of force,” the intensity, the edge that Gabe craves and Hank facilitates—was something else entirely. Something darker. Something more primal.

I stare unseeing at my document, remembering the heat in Gabe’s eyes when he talked about taking a woman, about the dance on the edge, and the restraint in Hank’s voice when he described binding a woman and then delivering her to Gabe’s mercies.

A shiver runs through me that has nothing to do with the air conditioning.

Am I brave enough for that? Brave enough to let them push me past where I’ve ever gone before? To trust Gabe to take me to that edge, to trust Hank to keep me safe while I’m there?

Even more terrifying—am I brave enough to admit how much I want it? How the thought of being completely at their mercy, of being taken, of being made to endure, ignites something inside me I’ve never fully acknowledged?

I glance over my shoulder. Hank is on the phone, his voice low and commanding as he speaks with someone about security protocols. Gabe is typing on his tablet. His brow furrows as his screen suddenly flickers, turns off, and then flicks back to life.

The cursor on my screen blinks patiently, waiting for words that won’t come. Instead, I find myself wondering what it would be like to fully surrender to them. To give them not just my body but my fear.

My trust.

Turning back to my laptop, I force myself to focus on my thesis, but a decision forms in the back of my mind. One that both terrifies and thrills me.

I tap the keyboard, scrolling through my notes. The cursor lags just slightly—barely noticeable, but enough to make me tap the key again, thinking it didn’t register. The page jumps too far, and I sigh.

Behind me, dishes clink, and water runs as Hank and Gabe move around each other. There’s something almost hypnotic about their rhythm, the way they communicate with barely a word spoken between them.

I focus back on my screen, frowning as I notice my battery percentage dropped fifteen percent in just a few minutes, despite being plugged in all night. It’s likely just the battery showing its age.