Page 77 of The Obedient Lie

Bastion’s lips brushed my jaw again. A whisper, not a kiss. “Let us really apologise.”

His fingers slid up the inside of my thigh—slow, careful—like he was afraid I’d vanish if he moved too fast.

Luca’s voice came next, low and coaxing. “Would you like that, baby?” His hand smoothed over my knee again, warm and sure. “If we really said sorry… the way you deserve to hear it?”

I couldn’t speak. I nodded.

Bastion’s fingers reached the top of my inner thigh, just below the hem of my skirt, and paused. He exhaled against my ear, voice barely more than gravel. “Need to hear you say it.”

“I want it,” I whispered.

Luca leaned closer, his hand sliding higher, mirroring his twin. “You want us to make it better?”His tone turned more possessive.“Let us take care of you now. Like we should have from the start.”

I nodded again, breath shaky.

The softest kiss landed on my neck—Luca.Reverent,like he was making a vow.

Bastion’s palm flattened gently over my stomach, holding me still. “You let us touch you like this, baby, and it means something. You hear me?”

I did. I heard every word like it wasburnedinto me.

“You trust us now?” he asked again.

“Yes,” I whispered.

Then Bastion’s voice turned velvet-dark, possessive and firm.“Then let us show you what that means.”

His hand curved around my hip like it alreadybelongedthere. Like he’d been waiting years to claim it.

“We’ll be gentle,” Luca’s fingers ghosted along the hem of my skirt. “But don’t mistake that for soft, baby. We’re not going anywhere. And you’re not walking away from this the same.”

Bastion didn’t move.

He stayed behind me, his chest warm at my back, legs bracketing mine like a silent shield.

And I didn’t move either.

Didn’t want to.

His fingers traced lazy lines along the inside of my thigh, the motion soothing and electric all at once. Like he was memorizing me. Like thismattered.

Luca was still across from us, his eyes locked on mine. That stare—god—it always undid me. Calm. Quiet. But so fucking intense it made me ache.

His palm rested on my knee now, thumb moving in slow circles over bone and skin.

“You’re shaking,” Luca murmured.

“I’m not scared,” I whispered back.

“I know,” he said.“That’s what makes it worse.”

Luca’s fingers traced the inside of my thigh—slow, patient, like he had all the time in the world to study me. He stopped just shy of where I waspulsing, his touch deliberate. The air left my lungs.

Then Bastion’s mouth found my neck.

“Are you wet forus?” he whispered, lips brushing the spot just beneath my ear, warm and possessive.

My breath hitched.