Page 159 of Well That Happened

Hallmark would combust.

Grayson’s hand strokes lightly along my thigh under the blanket. Soft. Sweet. Like he’s asking before he ever speaks.

“Take your shorts off, baby,” he murmurs, voice low and right against the shell of my ear.

My breath catches. I nod.

That’s all it takes.

He shifts lower with slow, controlled precision—like he’s unwrapping a gift, not rushing a moment of this. His hands slide beneath the hem of my pajama shorts and underwear, thumbs brushing the sensitive dip where hip meets thigh. I can already feel my pulse there, drumming hard against his touch.

Caleb’s still in front of me, one hand cradling my cheek, his breath warm at my ear. “Let him take care of you, baby.”

Grayson doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.

He settles between my thighs and gazes up at me with hooded eyes. The first brush of his mouth makes me gasp.

His tongue moves slowly—testing, tasting, his grip on my thighs tightening as I tremble under him. Every kiss is patient, every stroke deliberate. He’s not in a rush. Helikesthis. Likes making me squirm, likes hearing the way my breath stutters every time he hits that perfect spot again and again.

I bury my fingers in his hair, helpless.

Grayson hums like he’s proud of himself.

And I’m already unraveling, hips jerking against his mouth as I come.

Before I even have a chance to float down, I’m being moved—hauled into Hunter’s lap.

I kiss him—soft at first. Testing. But he’s not soft.

Not tonight.

He cups the back of my head and pulls me closer, kissing me like he needs it to survive. His mouth is hot and rough, all tongue and tension. His other hand skims down my back, gripping my waist like he can’t quite believe I’m real.

His breath hitches when my lips graze the dip just below his sternum. I press another kiss there, then another. I can feel him watching me, his body strung tight like a live wire.

When I glance up, his jaw is clenched, eyes dark.

“Rilee…” His voice is barely a whisper. More warning than question. But he doesn’t stop me.

I shift down between his legs, my fingers tracing the waistband of his boxers, slow and teasing. His hands fist in the blanket beside him, muscles flexing like he’s trying not to shake.

“You’re killing me,” he rasps.

“Let me,” I whisper, nuzzling him softly, pressing a kiss to the spot just above the V of his hips.

He groans, head tipping back.

And when I take him in hand—give him a slow stroke—his control unravels just a little more. My mouth follows, my movements unhurried but deliberate, savoring every reaction he gives me. Every ragged breath, every whispered curse, every time he murmurs my name like it’s the only word he remembers.

Caleb’s hand moves between my legs, one thick finger pushing inside my pussy, and I moan around Hunter’s cock.

Gray plants one hand on my shoulder as I move over Hunter, a look of adoration on his face. “So sexy, princess,” he murmurs.

One of Hunter’s hands finds my hair, not pushing—never pushing—just there, grounding him as he lets go.

It’s not about power. It’s not even about pleasure.

It’s about this. Us.

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