Page 64 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

The silence stretches out, comfortable and intimate, broken only by the quiet rhythm of our breathing, a shared cadence of exhaustion and satiation. Hank kisses my hair, his voice soft against my ear, a rare tenderness in its rough edges.

“You’re incredible, luv.”

Exhaustion tugs at the edges of my consciousness, pulling me down into a hazy, seductive drowsiness, but even as my eyelids flutter closed, a spark of anticipation flickers within me, a low ember glowing in the aftermath. The night is far from over. Gabe’s fingers tighten almost imperceptibly on my hip, a silent promise whispered against my skin.

“Sleep now, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice a low purr, “We’ll wake you later.”

Chapter 20

The darkand rich scent of coffee drifts down the hall, mingling with the salt air rolling in from the balcony. I stretch under the sheets, my body deliciously sore, muscles aching in ways that remind me of everything that happened last night.

I roll onto my side. The bed is warm but empty, the faint dips in the mattress beside me the only sign that Hank and Gabe were here.

Gabe was right about me being sore. The memory brings a smile to my face.

It still surprises me how quickly I’ve fallen into this—whatever this is. Two days. That’s all it’s been, yet it feels like we’ve known each other for years. It feels so natural, so easy to surrender to their care and meet their demands for sex. It should frighten me how readily I’ve given myself over to this dynamic, but instead, there’s something… cherished. Seen in a way I’ve never experienced before.

I force myself upright. Somewhere in the condo, cabinets open and close, and the low murmur of voices drifts toward me. The steady whoosh of waves crashing against the rocky shore belowfilters through the open balcony doors, and the salty air is thick with morning chill.

I drag myself out of bed, tugging one of Gabe’s discarded shirts over my head. It swallows me, the fabric soft and worn, the hem brushing the tops of my thighs. Voices filter down the hall—low, masculine rumbles, followed by the occasional clatter of dishes.

I pause at the door, curiosity prickling.

It would be easy to step into the kitchen and make my presence known, but something stops me.

Gabe hums, and I hear the distinct clink of his coffee cup meeting the counter. “So what’s the plan?” His voice—smooth, deep, teasing. “We gotta show for work eventually.”

“We call in,” Hank mutters. “Stay here. Look after her.”

“We’ve already called in twice. Ethan’s not going to buy it again.” Another sip, another clink. “He knows exactly what’s going on.”

“Only because you were too damn obvious about it,” Hank shoots back.

“Me?” Gabe laughs, the sound edged with something smug. “You practically hadMinetattooed on her forehead the second we found her.”

“Whatever,” Hank grumbles. A cabinet creaks open, then shuts.

“Seriously though, what are we going to do with her?”

“We have to take her with us,” Hank says, as if it’s the most obvious solution in the world.

A beat of silence.

Then, Gabe snorts. “Right. Because Ally’s the kind of woman who wants to be babysat all day.”

“No, but she’s the kind of woman who attracts trouble,” Hank counters. A cabinet door thuds closed with more force than necessary. “And you know damn well we can’t leave her here alone.”

“She could watch us train,” Gabe adds, thoughtful now. “Stay in the gym, keep an eye on things.”

“She’d be bored out of her mind.” There’s athwap—probably Hank smacking something onto the counter harderthan necessary. “And let’s be real. We’re not exactly known for our ability to focus when…distracted.”

Gabe chuckles. “You? Distracted? Didn’t think that was possible, Mr. Ice-Cold-Focus.”

“Hell yes,” Hank growls. “With her sitting there watching us? All I’d be thinking about is fucking her.”

“I know, right?” Gabe lets out a low whistle. “Jesus, it’s been a long time since I’ve been this hooked. I don’t think I’ve ever been this obsessed—” He stops himself, the unspoken words hanging thick in the air. “Fuck, man. It’s dangerous.”

Hank grunts. “Understatement of the year.”

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