by Elle Kennedy
“You like that?” Rylan growled. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Just to push you down and drive into you until your whole world was my dick.”
Sloan answered for her. “Tell him. Tell him how it feels. How you like it.”
Reese dragged her lower lip between her teeth and bit down until the red plush velvet turned white. “I like it hard. Exactly like you’re doing.”
Her eyelids started to flutter closed, shutting Sloan out.
“Eyes up on me,” he barked out.
Rylan pulled her hair until it was impossible for Reese to do anything but stare directly at Sloan. Her face came close to his each time Rylan jacked into her in an unforgiving and determined pace that went on for longer than Sloan—and Reese—had anticipated. Reese’s hands grew slick. Sweat beaded around Rylan’s forehead and dropped on Reese’s ass. Both of them took on a sheen as the temperature in the room rose at least ten degrees.
And Sloan never moved. Not an inch. Not once.
Not even when Reese’s mouth dropped open and she began to chant short, nonsensical words. Rylan’s name, Sloan’s name, God’s name, until it was one rhythmic plea.
GodSloanYesRylanMoreFuckMoreYesMooooore.
Rylan wasn’t much better. “Jesus, you feel like a goddamn miracle. You’re so tight. So fucking tight. I’m not gonna last. Come, goddamn you. Come.”
His command worked as effectively as any of Sloan’s. Reese came with a scream, her body jerking and shuddering as Rylan kept hammering into her, seeking his own release. The two of them were mindless, and Sloan was so turned on he wondered, briefly, if he was going to come in his pants.
But his control was greater than he’d thought. Despite the agony in his groin, he kept his cool. Until Reese’s eyes fluttered open and he saw the hunger in them, and he realized his restraint was about to be tested again.
She still hadn’t had enough.
“Grab her some water,” he snapped at Rylan. “And then come back and get yourself hard again. You’re not done here.”
Reese damn near purred at that.
Fuck.
It was going to be a long night.
6
Rylan woke up naked and alone. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and realized he was sprawled on Reese’s bed. Weird. He didn’t even remember falling asleep last night. And he was genuinely surprised she hadn’t kicked him out after the sex.
The mind-melting, body-numbing sex.
The best sex of his life.
A part of him wondered if he’d dreamed it. He’d screwed her, what, five, six times?
The amount of orgasms he’d had seemed biologically impossible.
It happened, though. It must have, because he could still hear Sloan’s raspy orders in his head, commanding him to fuck Reese again and again and again.
Rylan sat up and arched his back to stretch it. Jesus. He was sore as shit. And pretty sure he’d pulled a muscle in his groin when he’d drilled Reese from behind that last time.
Unwittingly, his gaze moved to the armchair next to the bed. It was empty. But it hadn’t been empty last night. Sloan had sat in that chair and watched . . . when he wasn’t helping to hold Reese down.
Damn, that had been so hot. Rylan had known Reese was a passionate woman, but now he understood why men got that glazed look in their eyes whenever they talked about sleeping with her.
Last night had been . . . intense.
And he wanted, with every fiber of his being, to do it again.
He lazily climbed off the futon and did another stretch, a tremor of excitement rippling through him when he heard footsteps beyond the door. But, no. They were too heavy, the thump of a man’s boots rather than the soft tread of a woman’s.
Sure enough, the door swung open and Sloan appeared. “Morning,” he said roughly.
Rylan raked a hand through his tousled hair. “Morning.” He peered past Sloan’s broad shoulders, but Reese was nowhere in sight.
Swallowing his disappointment, he focused back on Sloan. The man wore faded jeans that rode low on his hips and a red plaid shirt he was in the process of buttoning up, but not before Rylan caught a glimpse of defined pectorals and the hard ridges of Sloan’s abs. The man was jacked. And a lot more attractive than Rylan had realized, though he hadn’t exactly been looking.
But at six-four, with his dark beard and rugged face, Sloan was damn easy on the eyes. Which made it all the more bizarre that Reese wasn’t screwing him.
“Where’s Reese?” Rylan asked lightly.
Sloan snapped the last button in place, then rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms. “Visiting with Bethany.”
Rylan’s hand slipped from the top of his head to squeeze the back of his neck. He would’ve stopped in to see Bethany last night, but the raiding party hadn’t reached Foxworth until late. He hadn’t wanted to wake her up. Pregnant women needed sleep, right?
Or had she already had the baby?
Sloan must have read his thoughts, because he said, “She’s ready to pop any day now.”
Shit. Rylan wondered who was going to help with the delivery. Reese? Beckett? He doubted anyone in town had much experience with delivering babies.
Procreation was strictly forbidden in the Colonies; it was the council’s way of controlling a population that had once been in the billions. Nowadays, the GC decided how many babies were born, and to whom. The female breeders and male studs were chosen based on genetics and traits that the council felt were desirable, and if you weren’t picked to breed, you were shit out of luck. Sterilized like a defective mare.
Although nobody was monitoring who slept with whom in the free land, most outlaws chose to use protection rather than sire offspring. Life was already dangerous enough as it was. Add a screaming infant to the mix, or a toddler clutching his mama’s skirts, a six-year-old throwing a tantrum . . . it was too risky. If an outlaw was caught with a child, the latter was whisked off to the city while the former ate an Enforcer’s bullet for breaking the law. And if you did manage to hide your kid, there was an extra mouth to feed and an extra body to clothe. Kids were too much of a hassle, at least in Rylan’s opinion.
His old friend Arch had disagreed. Rylan had balked when he’d heard that Arch and Bethany were having a baby. The couple had decided it was worth the risk, but look where that had gotten them. Now Bethany was nearly nine months pregnant and all alone, because two months ago Arch had died at the hands of an Enforcer.
So had Kade.
Rylan’s throat tightened. The losses were still too raw, a wound that refused to scab over because the memory of Kade and Arch was everywhere. In Xander’s grief-stricken eyes. In Bethany’s huge swollen belly. He couldn’t escape them, no matter how hard he tried to shove the painful memories aside.
“If I’m still here when she goes into labor, come find me,” he told Sloan.
The man looked startled. “Why would I do that?”
“I grew up on a farm. When our animals gave birth, I was there helping with the deliveries. Had my entire arm inside a cow once, trying to turn a calf that was breeched. Fun times.”
Sloan’s lips twitched slightly.
“You’re allowed to laugh, you know.” Rylan rolled his eyes. “I won’t tell your mistress if you don’t want me to.”
Immediately, the man’s expression hardened. “If Bethy’s in labor when you’re here, someone will get you.” Sloan turned toward the door. “Time for you to go. Reese won’t want you in here when she gets back.”
He bristled. “And why’s that?”
“Because she got what she needed last night. She’s not looking for a repeat performance.”
Rylan slanted his head. “Yeah? And when is she planning on telling me this?”
“She just did.”
Sloan’s expressionless eyes grated on Rylan’s nerves almost as much as
the impassive words. He didn’t understand their relationship. Sloan and Reese. Queen and . . . knight? Bodyguard? They weren’t sleeping together. They weren’t openly affectionate. And yet something bound them together. Sloan spoke on Reese’s behalf, and Reese, a woman who never let anyone give her orders, allowed him to do that.
“What if I have a problem with that?” Rylan challenged.
Sloan shrugged. “What can I tell you, boy? She doesn’t want seconds. Tough shit.”
“Would you cut it out with that ‘boy’ crap? You’re what, a year older than me? Two?” Sloan couldn’t be a day over thirty, and Rylan was tired of him acting like he was older and wiser. He was also damn tired of staring at Sloan’s smug face. “And I don’t give a shit if Reese wants to use you as her mouthpiece. She doesn’t want seconds? Well, fine. She’ll just have to tell me that herself.”
Not bothering to hide his annoyance, he muscled past Sloan and marched out of the bedroom.
* * *
Reese curled both hands around the cracked ceramic mug and breathed in the mint-flavored steam rising from the rim. It heated the tip of her nose and brought a much-needed rush of warmth. She’d felt chilled to the bone all morning, and it had nothing to do with the dipping temperature outside.
“So the raid was a success?” The very pregnant Bethany waddled over to the small sofa under the window.
Reese nodded. “We’ve got enough guns and ammo to start a war.”
Bethany’s eyebrows flicked up. “Or a revolution.”
“Same thing.”
“Is it?”
She didn’t even know anymore. Reese lifted the mug to her lips and took a small sip, all the while doing her best to avoid looking at Bethany’s bulging stomach. Seeing it reminded her of her own losses, the choice that had been stolen from her. And it reminded her of Arch, the ginger-haired giant who was never going to see his baby come into this world.
Arch had been a good man, an exceptional soldier. Everyone in town was still grieving for him, but none more so than his woman, whose brown eyes fixed on Reese now.
“What’s going on?” Bethany stroked her belly in absentminded gestures. “You look worried.”
Reese set down her mug. “Nah, I’m fine.”
“Bullshit. Something’s up.”
She hesitated, because she didn’t confide in many people. Sloan was the one she went to when she was feeling vulnerable. Sometimes Lennox. Tamara. But for all the others, she put on a strong front. She was their leader, which meant they weren’t allowed to see her worrying, or vacillating, or drowning in self-doubt.
She’d known Bethany a long time, though. Shit, it had been almost eight years now. The two women were seventeen when they’d first crossed paths. Where the hell did the time go?
“I did something stupid last night,” she found herself confessing.
“Yeah? What’d you do?”
“Rylan.”
Bethany snorted. “Ah. So he finally charmed his way into your bed?”
The humor in Bethany’s eyes was such a welcome sight that Reese’s heart squeezed. In the two months since Arch’s death, Bethany’s expressions had alternated between completely vacant and raw with grief.
“How was it?” Bethany pressed.
How was it? Reese couldn’t even begin to answer that. Hell, she wasn’t sure there were actual words in the English language that could describe what went down between the two of them last night.
No, the three of them.
Her wrists were still sore from Sloan’s punishing grip. He’d held her, restrained her so she was at Rylan’s mercy. Sloan’s mercy. The memory sent a rush of desire to her core, which only confused her body. She didn’t even know who she’d been coming for last night. Rylan? Or Sloan? Or both?
What she did know was that she’d done a very bad thing. A dangerous thing.
Rylan had been as wild and addictive as she’d suspected he’d be, but . . . she’d crossed a line with Sloan. She’d stared into his eyes while she was sobbing in release. She’d clung to him while Rylan screwed her hard enough to make her see stars. She’d threatened their friendship, and for what? A few orgasms?
It wasn’t fair to Sloan. She knew damn well that he wanted her—she’d always known—yet she’d selfishly asked him to be there last night, even though it must have been torture for him.
What kind of friend did that make her?
“You’re worrying me again.”
Bethany’s quiet voice jolted her from her thoughts. “I’m sorry,” Reese murmured. She picked up her mug and took another long sip. “My head is foggy this morning.”
“Good sex will do that to you.” Bethany’s faint smile was betrayed by the sadness in her tone.
“I guess. Anyway.” Reese finally lowered her gaze to Bethany’s belly. “I came here to talk about you. How are you doing, honey?”
“I’m fine.”
“Bethy.”
The woman let out a shaky breath. “Okay, I’m not fine. I’m fucking terrified.” She had both hands on her stomach now. “I have to pee every five seconds. This kid keeps me awake at night with all his kicking. My back hurts. And I’m dreading the birth, I really am.” Her face grew ashen. “What if something goes wrong?”
“It won’t,” Reese said firmly.
“You can’t be sure of that. I could die.”
“You won’t die, Bethy.” She wasn’t usually one to offer false assurances— especially when they all knew how fleeting life in the free land could be—but there was no way in hell she was letting Bethany even consider the possibility of dying in childbirth. “We have two medics who’ll look after you. And the other camp leaders will be showing up in a day or two. That means Connor, which means he’ll be bringing his woman. Hudson was a nurse in the city. If you feel comfortable having her around, she could be an asset.”
“I don’t feel comfortable about any of this,” Bethany muttered. She paused, then released a strangled cry. “I can’t do this alone! Why the fuck am I doing this alone? Arch was supposed to be here for this! He was supposed to hold my hand and mop the sweat from my brow and . . . and . . .” She trailed off, her entire face collapsing.
Reese instantly slid closer and took Bethany’s hands in hers. The woman’s fingers were ice-cold. “I’ll be there,” she said fiercely. “I’ll hold your hand and mop the sweat, honey. You won’t be alone, I promise you that.”
The assurances fell on deaf ears. Bethany’s eyes filled with tears, her dark lashes growing wet. “I miss him,” she whispered.
Reese drew a ragged breath and tried to ignore the deep pain in her chest. She dropped Bethany’s hands and picked up her mug, hoping the heat of it would warm her ice-cold body. It felt like someone was stabbing her heart with a rusty knife, each sharp thrust bringing the same scathing accusation: Arch died because of you.
The Enforcer who’d shot Arch had been aiming for Reese. That bullet was meant for her, but Arch had stepped in front of it. He’d lost his life protecting her.
Reese could barely breathe as the memory crushed her windpipe.
“I know you do,” she mumbled. “We all miss him.”
The tears slid out, staining Bethany’s cheeks. “Do you ever miss Jake?”
Reese’s head flew up in shock. Nobody in Foxworth ever said Jake’s name these days. Most of the new folks hadn’t known him, and the original members liked to pretend he never existed.
“No, I don’t.” The words were wrenched out of her throat, burning it on their way out.
Bethany brushed the tears from her eyes and said, “It’s okay to miss him, Reese.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is.” Bethany spoke firmly. “You loved him.”
“Not by the end,” she said sadly.
No, she’d loathed him by the end. Fucking despised him. And . . . and .
. . goddamn it, yes! She’d also loved him. She’d loved and hated him, and she’d hated herself for being able to feel both emotions in equal measure.
Maybe if the hatred had been stronger, she could’ve stopped him sooner. Instead, she’d stood by and watched as his behavior became increasingly tyrannical. Cruel. Nauseating.
She and Sloan had both seen Jake losing control, but they’d been loyal to him. Too loyal. Neither of them had stepped in until it was too late.
Reese sucked in another breath, but it didn’t help. She still felt dizzy, and she couldn’t stop the grisly images from flashing through her mind. Couldn’t shut out the screams she’d heard coming from her bedroom that horrible night three years ago. Her hands trembled as she remembered opening the door and seeing Jake with Cassie. Seeing the wild look in his eyes. And Cassie’s stricken face. The blood . . .
“Reese.”
She squeaked when she felt a punishing grip on her chin, when her head was yanked up.
“I’m sorry,” Bethany murmured. “I shouldn’t have brought him up. But you need to let go of that mug before you cut yourself, sweetie.”
Blankly, Reese stared down at her hands and realized she’d been clenching the mug so tightly that the crack on its side had fractured, leaving two jagged pieces between her fingers and warm liquid on her lap and the sofa cushion.
“Fuck,” she swore. “Let me clean this up.”
Bethany started to get up. “I can do it—”
“No. Sit. I’ll do it.” She flew off the sofa and into the tiny kitchen. But the apartment Bethany had shared with Arch had an open layout, which meant the other woman could see Reese moving around in the kitchen, could see how shaken up she was.
Without a word, Reese dumped the broken mug into the trashcan, then grabbed a rag and hurried back to mop up the stain on the sofa. Her throat was tight with shame. Not just for ruining Bethany’s couch, but for everything. Arch’s death. Jake’s death. Flaunting her naked body in front of Sloan last night when she knew he lusted for her.