A twinge of unease crept in, but she shook it off. It wasn’t her place to ask questions, and she had no idea who else had stayed in the room before her. Maybe the house had a history she didn’t know about. It wasn’t her business, she reminded herself.
Instead of dwelling on it, Felicity pulled out a simple nightgown, the soft fabric comforting against her skin. She slipped into it and made her way to the massive bed, marveling at how soft and inviting it looked. The sheer size of it was impressive—easily big enough to accommodate four people. It felt like sinking into a cloud as she lay down, her body immediately relaxing into the luxurious sheets.
As she settled in, her mind wandered back to everything that had happened since she arrived. The dinner, the studio, the way Nathan and John seemed to orbit around her like planets with their own gravity. And, of course, the way Nathan had touched her the night before. The thought of his hands on her skin sent a warm shiver through her, and she had to bite her lip to stop herself from getting too caught up in the memory.
But the exhaustion was stronger than the memories, and soon, her eyes began to droop. The plush bed seemed to swallow her whole, pulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When she finally awoke, the sun was lower in the sky, casting a golden glow through the windows. She stretched languidly, feeling refreshed, and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.Just in time for dinner, she thought with a small smile. Felicity slipped out of bed, adjusting the nightgown as she padded barefoot across the room. She had no idea what awaited her for the evening, but she was ready for anything after the day she’d had.
After dinner, as they lingered over the last few sips of wine, John leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady on Felicity. “We’reheading to the study,” he said casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Why don’t you join us? You can bring your book along and relax a bit.”
Felicity glanced at her half-finished novel resting on the dining room table, feeling a small flutter of curiosity. She hadn’t been in the study yet and wasn’t ready to call it a night. With a nod, she picked up her book and followed them down another long hallway, the quiet hum of the manor filling the space around them.
The richly furnished study had dark wood paneling and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The smell of leather and old paper mingled with the faint scent of tobacco. John settled on a long couch in front of the roaring fire, patting the seat beside him as an invitation. Nathan, in contrast, opted for an armchair in the corner, moving with a kind of languid grace as he poured drinks for all of them.
Nathan handed Felicity a glass and lit a cigar, leaning back into the shadows, the soft glow of the fire casting a warm light on his face. He didn’t say much, his blue eyes fixed somewhere in the distance as he took slow, contemplative puffs. His quiet presence made the room feel heavier like he was watching the moment unfold but choosing not to engage, at least not yet.
Felicity sat beside John, sinking into the plush cushions, and took a small sip of her drink. She couldn’t help but glance over at Nathan, sitting there in his solitude. He seemed like an enigma—silent yet always present.
She turned her attention back to John. "What book are you reading?" she asked, curious to hear more from him. He always had a way of telling stories that drew her in.
John smiled, holding up the thick volume he had been flipping through earlier. "This? It's a romance novel set in the 19th century. The usual poor woman meets her PrinceCharming. The writing's exquisite, though, with quite a fair bit of twists and turns.”
She raised an eyebrow. "Sounds enchanting. How far along are you?"
“Not very far,” he replied. “But it’s the kind of book that grabs you from the first page. If you’d like, I could read you a passage.”
Without waiting for her to respond, John opened the book and began reading aloud, his deep and smooth voice filling the room. His tone shifted effortlessly with the rhythm of the words, making even the most ordinary passages sound compelling. Felicity found herself leaning into his voice, lulled by the cadence of his reading.
The fire crackled softly in the background, and Nathan sat silently in his corner, the smoke from his cigar curling upward as John continued to read. Something about the moment was strangely intimate—the three of them together, the cozy warmth of the fire, and the sound of John’s voice weaving stories into the air.
Felicity curled up on the couch, holding her book but hardly paying attention to it anymore. She was captivated by John’s voice, by the quiet company of both men. Every now and then, her eyes drifted toward Nathan, watching him as he watched the fire, wondering what was going through his mind.
Somehow, as John’s voice filled the room with the rich narrative, Felicity found herself unconsciously leaning against his shoulder. His warmth and the deep cadence of his words felt soothing and almost hypnotic. She hadn't even realized how relaxed she'd become until, with a gentle motion, John shifted, pulling her down so her head could rest on his lap. The movement was so natural and casual that she didn’t think to resist.
It felt strangely intimate but not in the way she'd expected. As she lay there, the sound of John's voice was like alullaby. There was something paternal about it—comforting and protective. It was like a father reading to his daughter, creating a quiet bond through the simple act of storytelling.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and the weight of John's hand, resting lightly on her shoulder as he read, anchored her in place. For a moment, all her worries, all the confusion of the past few days, melted away. Here, in this opulent room with its walls of books and flickering firelight, she felt at ease and as though she belonged.
Nathan remained in his chair, watching them both through the smoke of his cigar. His gaze was unreadable, but the quiet companionship between the three of them remained unbroken. It was as though this moment existed outside of time, a bubble of calm where nothing else mattered but the soft cadence of John's voice and the warmth of the fire.
Felicity closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the peacefulness of it all. She was not quite sure how she ended up here, but for now, she was content to stay.
As John continued reading, the scene in the book took an unexpectedly erotic turn. His voice, already smooth and rich, took on a deeper, more evocative tone as he described a passionate scene between the characters. The heat of the narrative and the vivid imagery stirred something inside Felicity, her breath growing shallow as the story unfolded.
She could feel her pulse quickening, her body responding to the charged atmosphere. Her cheeks flushed, and she became acutely aware of her nipples growing hard against the fabric of her dress. It felt almost surreal how the boundaries between the fiction of the book and her own arousal seemed to blur.
John’s hand, warm and confident, slipped under the hem of her dress and gently cupped her breast. The touch was electric, sending a shiver through her. Instead of pulling away, she found herself leaning into it as if it were the most natural thing in theworld. A part of her anticipated this, a desire she’d been too shy to voice, now being fulfilled with an intimacy that felt both thrilling and inevitable.
When John shifted, pulling her up so that she straddled him, his lips met hers in a kiss as heated and passionate as the scene from the book. Felicity’s lips parted, and she kissed him back, her senses overwhelmed by the mingling of reality and fantasy. The kiss deepened, and she surrendered to the moment, feeling the erotic tension between them build with every touch and every breath.
They carried her to bed, John lifting her in his arms even as Nathan held her hand. In the bedroom, they set her down and stood in front of her, both men staring down at her with lust in their eyes. Seeing the desire in those eyes and the promise of what was to come was almost scary.
Felicity shivered, a heady blend of nerves and anticipation surging through her. The sensation heightened everything, intensifying her arousal and making the impending climax feel even more overwhelming and inevitable. Desire swelled within her, a longing she could no longer deny.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” John asked softly.
“No,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I don’t think I’m sure of anything right now. Please don’t ask me that.”