Page 16 of Gambit
“Christ,” Raphael curses, following close behind, dumping his cum as his grip on me tightens to the point of pain—but it’s the sweetest agony.
As my legs tremble from the intensity of what we just shared, I murmur, “Tarquin.”
“Right here,” Tarquin murmurs, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin behind my ear, reminding me that they’re both here, enveloping me in their presence.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say, turning off the water when they release their hold on me. I need no assistance as I step out of the shower, the steam parting like a curtain, revealing a scene of resilience.
“Lead the way,” Tarquin says with a smirk, handing me a towel. His eyes are full of admiration, a silent acknowledgement of the power I hold down to my soul.
“Food first,” Raphael chuckles, wrapping a towel around his waist. “Then more fucking, and we’d better let the other two join in, or there might be sulking.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want that.” I nod, wrapping the towel around myself, and knowing that this won’t ever come back to haunt me, not when I have my guys surrounding me, I step out of the room to the gorgeous smells of cooking from the kitchen, where Oliver seems to be one step ahead.
“Thank fuck,” I laugh and race down the stairs, dripping wet, with the two sexy twins behind me struggling to dry off and run after me to keep me close.
“Untouchable?” I whisper as I enter the kitchen and form a small puddle on the tiled floor, which James frowns at before he raises his eyes to mine and smiles. “You don’t know the fucking half of it.”
10
OLIVER
In the kitchen,knife in hand, I’m chopping carrots into perfect little disks. The smell of garlic and onion sizzles from the pot on the stove, blending with the herbs I’ve tossed in. It’s a good smell, warm and rich.
“Need help?” James leans against the counter, watching me work. He doesn’t move to grab a knife or anything. He just stands there, all casual, like he’s got no care in the world.
“Nope, got it.” My voice is steady, my hands sure as they move from carrot to celery, throwing it all in the pot and watching it bubble up furiously before I stir the onions. I’m not one for too many words when cooking. Besides, he will butcher it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him make anything more than toast.
The door slams open so hard it bounces off the wall, and Eliza storms in. Water drips from her hair, running down her back, darkening the towel that hugs her body. She’s a force, all right. A storm in human form. You can almost see the air around her bend.
“Food!”
“Almost ready,” I say, turning to give her a nod. “Just sit down. I’ll bring it over.”
She hovers by the table, eyes scanning every inch of the place like she’s looking for something out of line. But she won’t find it. Not here. Not in my kitchen.
“Smells like heaven,” she says, and though her tone is light, there’s an edge to it, always an edge.
“Hope it tastes just as good.” I flash her a smile.
James finally moves, grabbing spoons and napkins and setting the table in silence.
Eliza watches us both, green eyes sharp. I wonder what goes on in that head of hers—what kind of plans she’s laying down, what moves she’s going to make. She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t just step into power; she grabs it by the throat.
Raphael and Tarquin saunter in behind Eliza, wet through, towels slung around their waists. I catch their grins, the kind that’s too full of mischief to be anything but what it is—a sign of a good fucking.
“Everything okay?” I ask, my voice even as I keep stirring the pot.
“I believe so,” Raphael answers quietly.
Tarquin ignores the question and sits next to Eliza and takes her hand lightly.
I glance over at Eliza again, taking in the drops of water trailing down her tattoo. Relief washes over me. She’s not putting on a show; she genuinely seems to be okay. God knows she’s been through enough shit that would break anyone else. But not Eliza.
“Good,” I say, meaning it more than they’ll ever know.
Eliza throws me a soft smile. “Takes more than a pencil-dicked asshole to take me down,” she says, her voice strong.
“Never doubted it for a second,” I reply, my heart kicking in my chest as I tell the lie. I was terrified. She is the strongestwoman, the strongestpersonI’ve ever met,and it hits me like a freight train. I’m more in love with her than a man has any right to be.
