Page 45

“Jesus Christ, woman. You’re lethal.” Hank’s laughter is rough, breathless. He reaches down, thumb brushing across my lower lip with possessive intent.

“She certainly knows how to derail a man’s plans.” Gabe runs a hand through his disheveled hair. His eyes never leave my face, studying me with that analytical gaze that misses nothing. “Just when I think I’ve got you figured out…”

“You don’t,” I finish for him, rising slowly to my feet, enjoying how both men track the movement. “And you never will.”

Hank and Gabe exchange a look—that silent communication again—but this time, I catch the edges of it: respect, surprise, and something darker, more possessive.

“She keeps us guessing,” Hank says to Gabe, though his eyes remain fixed on me. “Thought I was calling the shots with that walk.”

“Tactical error on your part. Underestimating the enemy.” Gabe’s mouth curves into that dangerous smile that never fails to quicken my pulse.

I arch a brow at Gabe, letting my fingers linger just above his waistband. “Enemy?” I purr, head tilting. “If I’m the enemy, then you two are terrible at strategy—because I’ve already surrendered. Fully. Willingly.” I turn to Hank, my voice softening. “You’ve caught me. Tamed me… at least in the ways that matter.”

His jaw ticks.

Gabe’s smile falters into something darker, deeper.

“I may be yours…” I add, stepping back with deliberate slowness, “but I’m still going to keep you on your toes.”

My hand moves between them, fingers trailing down each of their chests. I let my touch linger—lower—palms grazing the hard lines of their abs, then slipping even lower, cupping them both.

Both men go still.

Hank’s breath catches.

Gabe’s hands flex at his sides, restraint bleeding into tension.

“Already getting hard again,” I murmur, eyes gleaming as I squeeze just enough to make a point. “Shame, really… since you—” I flick my gaze up to Hank, “—already ordered that walk.”

I release them and turn, sashaying toward the house like I didn’t just hijack every ounce of control they thought they had.

Behind me, silence hangs for a beat too long.

Then Hank growls, low and lethal.

Gabe laughs, breathless. “We’re so fucked.”

Their returned smiles are wicked, their eyes promising more.

Much more.

But for now, the walk awaits, and I can’t wait to see where this day takes us—these two dangerous men who thought they were in control until they weren’t.

Hank steps back, raking a hand through his hair, that knowing smirk still tugging at his lips.

“Come on,” he says, voice rough. “Let’s get dressed before we forget we had a plan.”

Inside, the house feels cooler. Early morning light spills in through the wide windows, casting golden patterns across the floor.

We separate briefly, the hum of movement and the rustle of clothes filling the quiet. I change quickly, the lingering heat of their touches still simmering beneath my skin, anticipation thrumming low in my belly.

Minutes later, we regroup at the door—Hank in a fitted tee and cargo pants, Gabe in worn jeans and a hoodie that does nothing to hide the tension in his frame. They watch me as I pull my hair into a loose ponytail.

We step outside together, the door clicking shut behind us.

The ocean air is crisp, and the sky is a brilliant blue. A salt-laden breeze caresses my skin, carrying away the heat of our earlier encounter but not the memory.

Hank walks slightly ahead, his stride confident and measured, while Gabe stays close to my side, our shoulders occasionally brushing with deliberate casualness.

The world feels wide open.

And I feel… steady.

The panic from last night—its sharp, suffocating edge—is distant like a dream already fading with the dawn.

My body remembers, but it doesn’t ache.

My mind recalls, but it doesn’t spin.

It’s quiet.

Gabe’s voice still echoes softly in the spaces that once held fear—not with the chaos of panic, but the clarity of truth.

Of promise.

His darkness is no longer something I fear. It’s something I understand and waits patiently for me to be ready.

This morning, I was ready for something else.

I took the initiative, taking them both into my hands and my mouth—brought them to their knees with nothing more than the strength of my desire and the thrill of watching them unravel for me.

The power in that… it was intoxicating .

Knowing that I could drive them to the edge, that my pleasure could be found in theirs —it stirs something inside me.

Something fierce.

Something free.

Maybe that’s what Gabe meant—that need to take, control, and please, not out of obligation, but because it feeds something deeper, is a powerful force .

My trauma may have faded with the night, but the desires—mine and theirs—they’re wide awake.

And I’m ready to explore them all .

Hanks leads us to a path that winds along the cliffs, revealing breathtaking vistas of the churning ocean below. White-capped waves crash against jagged rocks, sending spray high into the air before retreating, an endless dance of power and surrender. Not unlike what transpires between the three of us.

“You shouldn’t spoil us like that,” Hank says suddenly, glancing back over his shoulder. His voice carries that rough edge that makes my stomach tighten. “We’ll get used to morning blowies.”

A startled laugh escapes me at the incongruity of that word coming from his fierce, protective self.

“Blowies? Really?”

His eyes narrow at my amusement, something dangerous flickering in their amber depths—a silent warning I should probably heed.

Gabe’s hand settles on the small of my back, his touch both possessive and cautionary.

“Be careful teasing him like that,” he murmurs, his breath brushing the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “There are consequences. For the record, you can spoil me like that anytime. Morning blowies are fun. I’m up for nooner blowies , too. Hell, blowies all day long…”

“Not you, too?” I turn to give him a look, arching a brow.

Gabe smirks, but Hank steps closer, eyes locked on mine.

“It’s nice when you take the initiative,” Hank says, his voice low, almost soft—but there’s weight, heat, and meaning behind it. His gaze sharpens, locking onto mine. “More than nice.”

He steps closer, the space between us shrinking, charged. “But don’t forget…” His fingers brush my jaw, tilting my chin just enough to make me feel the shift in power between us. “I’m the one in control. Always.”

A shiver rolls through me—not fear. Anticipation. Craving.

“Yes, Sir,” I murmur, breath catching. “Wouldn’t dream of forgetting.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to remind you.” His smile is slow and dangerous.

“Think of it as my way of thanking you both for last night.”

Hank stops walking, turning to face me fully. His expression shifts and becomes more predatory. Gabe’s hand tightens slightly against my back.

“A lot happened last night. Which part exactly are you thanking us for?” Gabe asks, voice deceptively casual.

I lift my chin, a smile playing at the corners of my mouth.

“All the parts. The lesson in pleasure and pain…” My eyes find Gabe’s, acknowledging the sting of his crop that still lingers as a phantom sensation across my skin. “The torture of having to wait and beg for it. The way you both claimed me after… Hank showing me anal can be fun…”

The memory of being taken by both sends heat rushing through my body. Then my expression softens, vulnerability flickering briefly across my features.

“And especially how you stayed with me when the nightmares came. When I wasn’t… myself.”

“We will always take care of you,” Hank says.

Something passes between them again. Whatever decision they reach remains unspoken, but I feel it in the subtle shift of the atmosphere, the heightened tension crackling in the air between us.

We resume walking, but something has changed.

I drop back, pulling Gabe with me, lacing my fingers through his and wrapping my other hand around his forearm. He lets me, his steps slowing to match mine, the heat of his body a constant beside me.

“And for everything you said to me,” I turn to Gabe, knowing he’ll understand.

Gabe glances down, the edge in his eyes softening, though tension still hums beneath the surface. “I said a lot, sweetheart.”

“You were honest.” I squeeze his hand. “And you were right. I wasn’t in my right mind to ask you for that… not then.” I pause, drawing in a breath. “Thank you for holding back, even when I begged you not to. ”

His jaw tightens, the flicker of something dark moving behind his eyes—but not the dangerous kind. It’s controlled. Measured. “It wasn’t easy,” he says quietly, roughly. “You’re hard to say no to.”

“I’m glad you did,” I whisper, the words catching slightly in my throat. “You saw what I needed—even when I didn’t. That means more than I know how to say.”

His thumb strokes over my hand, slow, deliberate, each pass a silent vow. “You’re worth waiting for, sweetheart.”

My breath catches. I hold his gaze, heart pounding. “I want to understand more… about you, about what you need.” The words feel like stepping off a ledge—terrifying, but right. “What we could have… when I’m ready.” My voice is steady, but inside, everything trembles. Wanting. Curious. Brave enough to ask.

His eyes darken, something primal flickering to life—heat, possession, control. And beneath it all, something deeper still: patience forged in fire.

“When the time’s right,” he murmurs, voice like velvet over steel, “we will discuss it at length, and then, I’ll take you there.”

A thrill arcs through me, sharp and exquisite. Not fear, but anticipation. I feel it coil low in my belly, a spark igniting into something dangerous, something mine.

“I hope so,” I whisper, breath unsteady. “I’m not ready yet. But I think…” I draw in a breath, letting it fill me with courage. “ Maybe soon. ”

His hand tightens around mine, a subtle shift— possessive. Promising. The air between us hums, thick with tension, but beneath it lies something else: unspoken questions.

I wet my lips, heart thudding. “What about Hank?” I ask, searching his face. “Where does he fit into what you want from me?”

Something flickers in Gabe’s eyes—respect, acknowledgment , and something heavier. “Hank’s the leader of this,” he says. “Of us . He commands the pace, the balance. He keeps us grounded. Keeps me grounded.”

His thumb drags over my knuckles, slow and contemplative. “He hasn’t shown you his love of rope yet,” Gabe murmurs, voice lower now, “because he’s afraid of triggering your trauma. He won’t move until he knows you’re ready to be bound and trust him fully.”

The thought stirs something in me— curiosity but also respect. Hank is always watching, always measuring—not because he doubts me, but because he refuses to fail me.

Gabe’s gaze sharpens, pulling me back to him. “But where I want to take you… that’s just us.” His voice is raw now, stripped bare. “What I’ll demand of you—it won’t be easy. It’s not soft. It’s dark . It’ll test everything you think you know about submission. About control . About me.”

My pulse flutters, but I don’t look away.

“He knows that,” Gabe continues. “That’s why when the time comes … he’ll be there. Watching. Making sure I don’t take too much. Don’t move too fast. Until he trusts that you trust me enough never to go too far.”

I swallow, the weight of his words sinking in—not fear, but the gravity of it. What he wants. What he’ll need. What I’ll give… when I’m ready.

“And when that happens,” Gabe murmurs, his voice a low growl, “you won’t have to wonder where you stand. You’ll feel it. In every breath, every bruise, every time I take you past the edge and hold you there.”

His fingers tighten, gaze locked on mine. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you into my world.” His voice is laced with dark promise, “Until then … Hank leads, and we go at your pace.” He leans in, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. “And I’ll wait.”

The air between us hums, electric with what’s coming—not now, not yet… but soon .

The conversation flows to safer topics—the weather, the local wildlife, an upcoming storm front—but beneath runs a current of anticipation and promises yet to be fulfilled.

Their easy banter washes over me, but my mind drifts. I watch the way Hank scans the horizon out of habit, the way Gabe walks with casual alertness, every step purposeful.

They’re always alert.

Always ready .

And suddenly, I don’t want the space between us to be filled with small talk. I want to know them—not just the men who touch and command me, but the warriors beneath the surface.

I slow my pace slightly, a question slipping out before I can second-guess it.

“Tell me about your hardest missions,” I say, the words quieter than I intend, vulnerable, betraying my need to pierce the armor they wear so effortlessly.

“Our hardest missions?” Hank’s eyes narrow, assessing me with that tactician’s gaze that misses nothing. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know, but I want to know you better—the men behind the phenomenal sex.” I lift my chin, refusing to be intimidated despite the sudden acceleration of my pulse. My throat tightens around the admission. “What was your worst? What’s stuck with you?”

The air between us changes. Gabe’s usual easy demeanor slips, revealing something more complex beneath the charmer’s mask.

He exhales slowly, stretching his arms behind his head—a casual gesture at odds with the shadow crossing his features.

“You sure you want to know that?”

“I do, but only if you’re okay sharing that with me.”

“I intend to share everything with you, sweetheart, but that’s a rough question.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Gabe takes in a breath as if bracing himself. “My first mission was a drug interdiction op in the Caribbean. Cartel was using small fishing vessels to smuggle product onto the Florida coast. It should’ve been simple—take the crew, seize the shipment, get out clean.”

I catch his hesitation and the subtle tension in his shoulders that speaks louder than his carefully measured words.

“But?” I prompt, arms wrapping around my middle as if to brace for whatever comes next.

Gabe’s jaw tightens, his usual smirk nowhere in sight. “There was a kid on board.”

My stomach drops, a hollowness spreading through my chest as the implications sink in. The breeze suddenly feels colder against my skin, the beautiful day at odds with the darkness of the conversation.

Hank moves closer, his body radiating heat beside mine—not touching, but close enough that I can feel the tension building within him, the protective instinct that struggles against the need for honesty.

Gabe shakes his head. “Barely ten. We didn’t realize until we were already storming the boat. He was hiding in the hull, scared out of his mind. Used. Abused. Beaten.” He exhales sharply. “The smugglers were using him as collateral. If the mission went sideways, the cartel had orders to kill him and his family.”

I stare, my chest tightening. “What happened?”

Gabe looks out at the waves, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “We couldn’t save his family. Afterward… that kid?” He shakes his head again. “He wasn’t okay.”

“I’m so sorry.” I swallow hard, my heart thudding. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“You can ask us anything you want, luv.” Hank clears his throat and rolls his shoulders like he’s shaking off a memory. “I don’t want you to think we’re unwilling to share, but some of what we experience is dark. But, yeah,” he rubs the back of his neck. “What happened to Gabe is sometimes how it goes. There’s always something they don’t tell you.”

I glance at him, tilting my head. “And you? Maybe not your worst mission, but your first?”

“My first was my worst.” He sighs heavily as he pulls at the memory. “It was a hostage rescue.” Hank’s expression darkens, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“Small town outside Mosul,” he continues, his gaze distant. “Intel said insurgents had taken a handful of locals—shop owners, farmers. No high-value targets, no major political stakes. Just civilians caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He pauses, jaw clenching.

“Hank…” I place a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to share. It was a foolish question. ”

“No. I want you to know me.” His lips press into a thin line. “We got there too late.”

The words hang between us, heavy and cold.

He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t need to.

I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his. For once, Hank doesn’t joke.

Doesn’t tease.

He squeezes my hand, exhaling through his nose, like maybe… maybe he needed that more than he realized.

I shake my head, then grimace. “Okay, note to self —we need a safe word for personal questions. Or at least… a flashing caution sign before I blunder into something that heavy.”

Hank quirks a brow. “A safe word?”

“I’m just saying that was a horrible question. I was trying to lighten the mood, not—” I gesture between them “—summon the trauma train.”

Gabe snorts. “And your method of lightening the mood was asking about our worst missions?”

“In hindsight, yes, terrible strategy . I never said it was smart—I feel bad. But… thank you. For answering.”

Hank shakes his head, dry as ever. “Remind me not to let you lead our team morale sessions.”

“I have other skills that help with morale,” I shoot back, lifting my chin.

Gabe’s eyes gleam with mischief. “Oh, sweetheart… that you do. Demonstrated nicely this morning with the blowies.”

I groan, rolling my eyes so hard I might sprain something. “God, Gabe. That word needs to be banned. Immediately.”

He grins, unrepentant. “Why? It’s cute. Fun. Descriptive.”

“I’m making an executive decision,” I announce, holding up a finger. “The word blowies is never to be uttered aloud again. Ever.”

Walking just ahead, Hank glances over his shoulder, one brow raised in amusement. “You’re not in charge.”

I narrow my eyes.

His smirk deepens. “Blowies stay.”

I blink. “So it’s not a democracy?”

Gabe snorts. “Not even close.”

Hank smirks, eyes dark. “It’s a benevolent dictatorship—and blowies stay.” He grabs my hand, pulling me to his side, where he drapes his arm over my shoulder, locking me in.

I huff. “Benevolent my ass.”

Gabe throws his head back, laughter peeling into the open air like sunlight—warm, easy, unguarded. “God, I love this,” he says between chuckles, wiping at his eyes. “This is what we were missing all those years—morning debates over oral etiquette.”

Hank just grins, his arm heavy and secure around my shoulders as we walk. “Some men go to war for less.”

I can’t help it—I laugh, too. The sound bubbles up, bright and free, chased by the salty breeze of the ocean and the steady rhythm of their footsteps beside mine. For a moment, everything is light.

Effortless.

Easy.

We might not agree on blowies .

But this?

This is everything.

Something expands in my chest, different from the lust that usually fills it when I’m with them. This is deeper and more dangerous. It’s one thing to surrender my body, to arch beneath their hands, to cry out as they claim me between them.

Physical vulnerability, I understand.

I’ve mastered the art of giving my body while keeping my heart safely locked away.

But this?

This vulnerability cuts to the bone.

The surf crashes against the cliffs below, echoing the collision happening within me.

These aren’t just bodies I’ve been exploring, vessels for pleasure and escape. These are men with histories etched in blood and failure, with nightmares that mirror my own.

My fingers tighten around Hank’s hand, a lifeline as realization washes over me. What began as an indulgence—a fantasy of being consumed by two dangerous men—has evolved into something I never anticipated.

Something with roots that threatens to tangle around my guarded heart.

I swallow hard, fighting the instinct to run—to retreat to the safety of physical desire without emotional complication. It would be easier to distract us all with the familiar dance of skin against skin. To keep us in the territory where the only thing exposed is flesh and not the soul.

But it’s too late.

That boundary has been crossed.

We don’t say anything for a while after that.

We just keep walking.

But the silence isn’t empty.

It’s full of things that don’t need to be said.

And since I asked them to share a little about them, I feel it’s only fair to tell them something about me.