Page 96 of Tangled In Tinsel & Knots
I forget how to breathe properly.
The shirt reveals his abs and chest, and he tugs it off. It falls to the floor behind him, forgotten. His body is ridiculous. Abs cut in perfect definition, chest broad and sculpted, shoulders that could carry the world. The firelight creates shadows in all the dips and valleys of his muscles, and I want to trace every line with my tongue.
Kane’s shirt is next. He grabs the hem and pulls it over his head in one smooth motion, and now I’m staring openly, cookie frozen halfway to my mouth. He’s just as built as Noel but in a slightly different way. Where Noel is lean muscle, Kane is pure power. Thicker through the chest and shoulders, arms corded with muscle that flexes with every movement.
They’re both shirtless now, skin gleaming in the firelight, moving to the music with their eyes locked on me.
Heat is building through me. That ache from before, the one that’s been simmering since I moved in, is roaring back to life—my pre-heat making everything more intense, more desperate, more impossible to ignore.
God, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I should take off my shirt. That was the deal.
I set down my cookie with trembling fingers and grab the hem of my oversized shirt, pulling it up and over my head slowly. The tank top underneath is thin and black, clinging tomy breasts, and I don’t bother covering up even though every instinct is screaming at me to do so.
Both their gazes drop immediately to my chest. Kane stumbles slightly in his next move, still staring at my breasts, and Noel makes this low sound in his throat that goes straight between my thighs.
I pull the blanket up to my waist, suddenly hyperaware of how exposed I am, how vulnerable.
But they keep dancing, and I can’t look away.
Kane’s hands go to his belt, unbuckling it with deliberate slowness. The leather slides free of the loops with a whisper of sound, and he drops it on the floor beside him. Noel does the same, and now they’re both working their buttons and zippers in sync.
Pants slide down muscular thighs—God, their thighs—and they step out of them, kicking them aside. They’re in tight boxer briefs now, and I nearly swallow my tongue.
My turn.
I shift under the blanket, my hands shaking now for real. I hook my thumbs into the waistband of my leggings and shimmy them down my hips. It’s awkward doing it while sitting, and I have to lift my hips, the blanket slipping down to my thighs, revealing my legs and the edge of my purple cotton panties.
Kane’s eyes lock on to the exposed skin, and he actually trips over his own feet mid-move.
We all burst out laughing, the tension breaking for just a second.
“Smooth,” Noel teases, but his voice is strained.
“Shut up,” Kane mutters, but he’s grinning even as his eyes stay glued to my thighs.
I manage to get my leggings off completely, and I adjust the blanket to cover me from my waist down, legs folded under me.
But my body is burning up. That ache between my thighs is pulsing in time with my heartbeat. This is pre-heat, has to be, because I’ve never felt this needy, this desperate, this out of control before.
They’re moving closer now, swaying to the music, and their hands go to the waistbands of their boxer briefs.
Wait, they’re actually going to do this?
My heart is hammering against my ribs. Every nerve ending is on fire. Their combined scents are wrapping around me, and together they smell like everything I’ve ever wanted.
I watch, transfixed, as they push the boxer briefs down simultaneously.
Hip bones appear. That defined V cutting down. Dark hair at the base, then they bend forward, drawing them down all the way.
I should look away. Should close my eyes or focus on literally anything else in the room. But they’re staring at me with such intensity that I’m frozen.
They step out of the underwear and kick them aside. Then they stand up straight, completely shameless.
My eyes drop to their groins without my permission. And I see their cocks covered in long white tube socks. Ridiculous athletic socks pulled up over their erections like some kind of absurd modesty covering.
I burst out laughing so hard I actually snort, which makes me laugh even harder. “You guys!” I’m gasping for air, clutching my stomach. “You put socks on your dicks?”
“Gotta maintain some mystery,” Kane adds, flexing slightly and making the sock bounce.
