Page 127 of Princess of Pride
“Nope.” He smirks. “He was talking to you.”
I look over at Wes. Amusement dances in his blue eyes, his sideswept bangs skimming one as a faint smile curls his lips.
Holy Chanel!
When Wes isn’t brooding, he’s fashion-model worthy. I never looked at him long enough before to notice, butdamn.
My gaze shifts to Lachlan then back to Wes. How are women not trying to hump these two on the daily? Add Rory, with his green eyes, into the mix and you have a trio of hells angels.
“What are you thinking?” Lachlan asks in a knowing, teasing tone.
My face heats. “Nothing.” I grab my wine glass and take a big sip.
“She was thinking something,” Wes chimes in. “Look at those cheeks.”
My neck prickles with the heat of three sets of eyes on me.
“You can tell us.” Rory joins in the teasing. “This is a safe space.”
Oh god. There is only one way for me to get out of this. “Fine.” I set my glass down and look at each of them. “You want to know?”
“Safe space.” Wes raises his hands encouragingly.
So this is what the three of them are like when they’re playful.
This should be fun. I clearmythroat. “I was thinking about what it might be like to have an… orgy with you three.”
Wes’s eyes and mouth turn into saucers.
Rory gapes with a shocked laugh.
Lachlan’s brows slam down. “The hell you were.”
He shoves the chair away and stands. Taking my wrist, he yanks me to my feet and drags me from the room.
“I was teasing.” I struggle to keep up in my heels as we cross the gallery toward the grand staircase. “Lachlan, slow down.”This is what I get for poking the bear.
He picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs faster than seems humanly possible. We’re in his room in record time. He swings me down onto the bed.
“Strip.”
I rise on my knees. “We didn’t even get to the main course.”
“Strip, Emery. I’m going to fuck that image right out of your pretty head.” He’s already down to his pants, his sculpted abs on display, his hard pecs, the Celtic tattoo.
I lick my lips. Even the scar on his bicep is a turn on. He got it rescuing me.
His gaze follows my tongue, and he groans. He rips off his belt and snaps the leather between his hands.
My brows shoot up. “You’re not going to spank me with that.” His palm I wouldn’t mind, I don’t think, but not that.
“I’m going to tie you to my bed like I promised many times before.” He stalks toward me.
“Wait,” I say, nervous and excited. “If you tie me up, I can’t strip for you. Don’t you want to watch me strip?” I pull my hair over one shoulder and reach behind me for the zipper.
Lachlan halts.
Submission from him? I’m going to work this for all I can. My bronze silk dress clings to my figure, hugging my breasts and showing just enough cleavage to be tasteful for dinner. I slip a finger under the spaghetti strap and ease it down. It falls to my elbow. I do the same with the other, then I move my hair behind my back and slowly guide the zipper down all the way.
