Page 196 of Theirs to Possess: The Marriage Claim
I gasp against Dorian’s mouth, and he swallows the sound like it belongs to him.
“Arms up, little one.” Brennan’s voice is low enough that it vibrates in my bones.
My pulse spikes. I lift my arms without thought. Dorian pulls away a little, just enough to give us a tiny amount of breathing room. And then my T-shirt is gone.
Cool air rushes over my skin, chased instantly by the heat of their gazes.
Dorian’s eyes drop, lingering at the swell of my breasts above my bra. His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking like he’s holding himself back.
Then he captures my mouth once more.
Brennan’s palms skim up my ribs from behind, steady, possessive. “Beautiful.” The word emerges somewhere between a growl and a promise.
Slowly, deliberately, he lowers his lips to my neck, each press of his mouth syncing with the sweep of Dorian’s tongue against mine. I feel them both—front and back, heat and heat—until my body is thrumming like it’s too small to hold all of this at once.
Dorian tilts my chin up, deepening the kiss, while Brennan’s there—as always—holding me.
For a moment, we break away, enough for me to see the desire flaring in Dorian’s eyes. “Fuck. I missed you.”
He curves his hand into my hair and guides my mouth back to his. The kiss is deeper this time, hungrier, the kind that steals air and leaves nothing but need behind.
Brennan stays close, his chest a wall of heat at my back. His hands slide forward until his fingers are resting at the top of my jeans. He doesn’t unbutton them—yet—but he flexes his fingers, telegraphing his intention. “You want us?”
I’m desperate with need.
And since I can’t talk, I do my best to nod.
Instantly Brennan’s lips are at my nape, and the scrape of his stubbled jaw sends a delicious shiver down my spine. “Then let us take care of you.”
His fingers make quick work of the button and zipper, the sound loud in the charged silence.
In a symphony of motion, I kick off my shoes whileBrennan eases the denim down over my hips, his knuckles grazing the lace beneath.
My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears.
Part of me was scared I would never be with them like this ever again, and the thought had broken my heart.
“Your skin is silk.” Brennan continues, sliding my jeans down my thighs, allowing them to pool around my ankles.
Dorian ends the kiss and steps back just enough to look at me—really look—his gaze traveling from my bare feet up over lace and skin and the flush he’s putting there.
“Fucking stunning, little one. Mine.”
Then, without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself—slow, deliberate—onto his knees on my scuffed floor. The same place Calypso’s toys are scattered.
Brennan brackets me with his powerful thighs. “Open your legs for him.”
As I step out of my jeans, he skims my shoulder with his fingertips, his presence anchoring me in time and space, while Dorian gently nudges my ankles apart.
“I’ve been desperate to taste you.”
“Watch him,” Brennan commands. “Watch what he does to you.”
Dorian’s hands are firm on my thighs, dragging them wider until there’s no modesty left, no hiding. His breath is hot against my panties. The barest brush of him is enough to make me twitch with anticipation.
Brennan wraps around my middle, pinning me against the thick wall of his chest. “Feel what he’s doing to you.”
His low, rough words curl through me like smoke.
