Page 160 of They Are Mine

And for the record? They do hold a man Orion’s size. If he’s playing along. If he really wanted out, he could snap them like thread. But he didn’t. He stayed right where I put him, tied down, blindfolded, trembling under my touch. I ruined him that night. He came so hard, so fast, I thought I might’ve broken him.

Noah? Skeptical. But that’s okay.

Because once he sees Elliot, sees the way he controls things with nothing more than a slow blink and a perfectly disapproving glare, he’ll understand. And when they start talking? God, it’s gonna be so good. Elliot and Orion working together gives them common ground, and Elliot and Noah? They can talk poetry, philosophy, the deeper meaning behind Noah’s lyrics. It’s all coming together so perfectly.

If Elliot joins them at the gym? That’ll be a bonus. But I don’t need him for that. I need him for something else entirely.

And I need tonight to go perfectly.

So I’m making refined comfort food. My men like things hearty and homemade, but Elliot’s a bit more sophisticated, so I’m meeting them in the middle. Chicken fried steak, made from scratch, of course. Twice-baked potatoes because regular mashed would be lazy. And for dessert? Parfaits. Something delicate, elegant.

Not that we might even make it to dessert.

Because Orion and Noah? They’re not helping.

I mean, they are. Orion is slicing potatoes like he’s preparing for battle, Noah is whipping up a sauce with his perfect, strong musician’s hands. But in between all that?

They keep grabbing me.

Orion has already untied my apron twice. I feel his breath on my neck before I feel his teeth, and fuck, he’s in a mood tonight.

Noah keeps dragging his fingers up the inside of my thigh every time he walks past me, slipping under my dress like he’s just checking if I’m wearing panties. (Spoiler: I’m not.)

“We do have a guest coming,” I remind them, dodging Orion’s hands as he tries to slide my dress off my shoulders.

“Uh-huh.” Noah licks a bit of sauce off his thumb, watching me the whole time.

God, I love them.

“Seriously.” I point a wooden spoon at them. “We behave until Elliot gets here.”

Orion smirks. “And after?”

I grin. Oh, after?

We’re not behaving at all.

When the doorbell rings at exactly seven, my heart flutters.

Because he came.

And that means he’s ours now.

Orion is already moving, striding out of the kitchen like he’s about to pat down our dinner guest instead of greet him. I follow fast, Noah right on my heels, because God only knows what comes out of Orion’s mouth unsupervised.

And then, I see him.

Elliot.

My sir.

Slacks. Crisp button-up. The blue brings out the steel in his eyes, which flick between Orion and Noah before finally landing on me.

His gaze trails down, slow and assessing. Over my legs. The hem of my adorable apron. Up, past the delicate lace of my neckline, until it meets my eyes.

I beam. “I’m so glad you came.”

Elliot lifts a single red rose and a long, slim box of chocolates.

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