Ensnared (Brutes of Bristlebrook, #1)(99)

“Then, what . . . ”

“Do you trust us?” he asks again. “To make you feel better? You can stop it at any time.”

We’re so close that our breaths mix, match, until we’re breathing together. His eyes are the woods that kept me safe for years, steady streams and hidden nooks.

“I trust you with everything,” I tell him.

Slowly, he nods. “Well, alright then.” He squeezes my hand, and his next smile seems to bury all the sadness in his face.

“Get yourself some water, Eden.”

I don’t need a drink. But, wanting nothing more than to get the blood off, I kneel by the water’s edge. I submerge my hands, then rub at my face and rinse out my mouth. Taking a handful of the coarse sand, I scrub it into my skin, managing to get the worst of the blood off my neck and arms.

“Now, now, darlin’, you’re gonna need to get wetter than that.”

I glance up just as Beau reaches over his back and pulls his shirt over his head in one motion. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Beau without his shirt is . . . a sight, and it must be a common one, because he has a delicious golden tan across his whole torso. There’s a light dusting of dark gold-brown hair across his chest that narrows to a trail that beckons me to his waistline. I hesitate before blinking the water from my eyes.

Seeing him like this with pure clarity might be enough to stop my heart.

When my gaze finally makes its way back to his face, some of the cold blankness in me recedes at his twinkling eyes. The sudden mischief in them reminds me of Lucky. There’s color rising in his face, too, like he’s just gone for a run.

How is he so normal right now? He just took a life. Lives probably. Even knowing who they were . . . That boy was young.

Twenty, tops. Did he really deserve to die?

Beau bites his lip as he watches me too, and sadness flashes across his face before his smile returns full force. He kicks off his shoes and unbuckles his belt, and I suck in a breath as I realize he’s half hard already.

“What are you—” My voice sounds strangled.

“I don’t know about you,” Dom says from behind me, “but I don’t bathe fully clothed . . . and you’re filthy.”

Dom is leaning against a tree, and I need to crane my head over my shoulder to look at him. He’s still vibrating with that odd energy, like he’s about to spring back into motion at any moment. It’s in the twitching of his fingers, his tense muscles, the restless way he keeps shifting.

That intense gaze fastens on me.

“Strip.”

A shiver of warning runs down my spine. The way they’re standing, one at my front, one behind, feels deliberate. I’m reminded of the way a wolf sends a runner to chase down prey into the jaws of his brother. A frisson of nervous energy tingles over my skin.

I wet my lips, eyes darting between them. “I— Uh. I’ll clean up when we get home?”

Why did that come out like a question?

Beau’s brows lift up, and I try my best not to notice, but he’s, well, he’s really hard now.

“That wasn’t really a suggestion, sweet girl.” Beau’s crooked smile deepens, and he takes a deliberate step toward me.

“You should do what he says, hmm?”

I scramble back. He’s still smiling, but there’s an unholy light to his eyes. Something pagan and dangerous. I realize abruptly that I may have underestimated my charming doctor. Dark and feral needs lurk under his good nature.

Beau steps forward again, and I stumble to my feet, not taking my eyes off him. The threat in him is illicit, delicious, and my breaths come faster.

“Remember your safeword, darlin’?”

Fear and excitement thrill through me, and my somber thoughts grow blessedly quiet. I wet my lips. “Why do you need to know my safeword?”

My pulse throbs in my neck, my core.

“Oh, I know your safeword,” he confides, and the way his eyes slide over me is vile. Erotic. “Just making sure you do.”

The back of my neck tingles in warning, and my nipples tighten into sensitive nubs even as I recognize he’s giving me a choice. My still-red hands clench in the material of my pants.

I don’t want choices right now.

Taking a deep breath, I stop backing away.

“Bristlebrook,” I whisper.

The tension in Beau doubles. His gaze flicking up over my shoulder is the only warning I get.

“Good librarian,” Dom croons, deep and threatening, right beside my ear.

I scream, twisting away as he plucks my glasses off my face, rendering the world instantly fuzzy. I’m not sure why I run, only that the adrenaline that had been dying in my body bursts back to life, my panic from the clearing returning in full force. I realize that Dom is naked—he must have stripped while I was occupied with Beau.

Beau steps forward to catch me and grabs me by my hair, yanking me against his body and pressing his mouth to mine in a hard, hot kiss. I gasp into it as liquid heat pounds through my body. His open belt buckle presses into me, and he shoves between us to unfasten my pants.

Dom growls behind me and adrenaline wars with drugging, luscious lust, jolting me back into awareness. I bite Beau’s lip hard enough to taste blood and dart away when he rears back. Dom is right there, large and threatening, and I duck wide and bolt.

Never have I felt such a delicious mix of fear and excitement. The panic is different—my nervous heart skitters at the thought of them catching me and, at the same time, I desperately want them to. I want them to take me, claim me, fuck me against the soft earth. I want them to have me completely at their mercy.