Page 167 of What We Brave
Blake's hand moves from my ankle. Up my calf. Behind my knee.
The touch shifts. Not dramatically — just enough. A little slower. A little more deliberate.
Oh.
His palm slides up to my thigh, and my brain, which was just doing a pretty good job of processing parental anxiety, completely changes channels.
"You're still tense," he says quietly.
"I'm fine."
"Liar." No heat in it. His hand keeps moving, kneading at the muscles of my lower leg, and okay, that does feel really good, but also his hand is movingnorthand I'm not wearing much under this blanket and?—
"You've been in your head for twenty minutes." Blake's eyes are focused on me. That intensity that makes my whole body go warm. "I could see it."
Reid's fingers slow in my hair. He's caught on. Whatever signal these two share — some kind of military telepathy — he's received it.
"She does that," Reid murmurs above me. "Worries about everyone else until she forgets to let herself feel good."
"I don't?—"
"You do." Blake's hand inches higher.
My breath catches.
Oh. my god. This is happening. I kind of hoped it would, eventually, but we're seriously knocking everything off my list this weekend? It's too much. But no way am I going to stop it.
My brain starts doing the thing:
Where do I put my hands? How does this work logistically? I'm sore. I'm definitely still sore. But also his hand is RIGHT THERE and Reid is looking at me like?—
Stop thinking about logistics, Laine.
"You spent all day giving yourself to me," Blake says. Low. Rough. "Now let me give something back."
"I..."Brilliant start. Really articulate."I'm sore."
"We know." Reid's voice is soft against my temple. "We're not going to hurt you. We're going to make you feel good." His thumb traces along my jaw. "You just have to say yes."
Blake's hand reaches the hem of my shirt. Pauses. Waiting.
I look up at Reid's face above me, steady and warm. Then at Blake, all coiled intensity at the other end of the couch. Both watching me. Both waiting. Patient in completely different ways — Reid with that open, easy patience that saystake your time, I'm not going anywhere, Blake with that controlled stillness that saysI will wait forever but I might vibrate out of my skin doing it.
I nod.
Blake moves. He shifts my legs, kneeling between my thighs. The sight of him there—focused entirely on me with that dark, consumingBlakelook—sends heat flooding through every part of me that isn't sore. And a few parts that are.
"Pull her up a few inches," Blake murmurs.
Reid's hands slide under my arms and tug me up until my back is flush against his chest. "Got her."
They're talking to each other about me like I'm a project.I should have something to say about that. I absolutely do not have something to say about that because it's the hottest thing that's ever happened to me.
Reid tilts my chin up and kisses me, soft and deep, while Blake's fingers hook into my waistband and pull. I lift my hips to help and cool air hits my skin and Blake's hands wrap around my upper thighs, thumbs pressing in, holding me open.
"You good?" Blake asks. Not to me. To Reid.
"Set." Reid says it against my mouth. "Take care of her."
