Page 180 of What We Bury

I drag in a breath, still shaking, and reach for Milo before either of them can decide for me. “I am.”

“Then quit hogging her, detective.” Milo’s already dragging his shirt over his head, grinning, and—God, I never get tired of seeing these men shirtless. He’s all lean muscle and sharp lines and a trail of dark hair leading down into his jeans. “If you’re up for it.”

“I’m up for it,” I say, and pull Holden in to kiss me.

It turns ferocious—sharper, hungrier than before. He takes my lower lip between his teeth and tugs, just hard enough to make me gasp, and Milo’s fingers tangle in my hair, tugging my head back so my throat’s exposed.

“God, you’re fucking hot like this,” Milo says, his voice somewhere between a growl and a prayer.

Holden’s hands are still firm on my thighs like he could keep me pinned here forever. The thought alone makes my pulse trip. When Milo’s mouth covers mine again, he tastes completely different—less smoke, more sugar, and I crave both flavors at once.

I want all of it.

My hands are greedy—they roam, flattening over Milo’s chest, pulling at Holden’s shirt. Then before I know what’s happening, Holden stands, lifting me without effort, my legs wrapping around his waist on instinct. The hard press of him through his jeans makes me gasp against his mouth.

“Bedroom,” he says.

“Yes,” I breathe, tightening my legs around him.

He stalks down the hall, carrying me with Milo hot on our heels. At the threshold of my bedroom, Holden pauses just long enough to pull me back and look me in the eye—his irises gone storm-dark and wild. The way he’s breathing, he looks like he wants to devour me. The way I’m breathing, I think I want him to.

Milo pushes in around Holden’s shoulder, crowding the doorway, nearly vibrating with need. “You mind if I just get in over here?” he murmurs, and I nod.

“Get in here.”

I want them both. I want all of them.

Holden sets me down, but when my feet hit the floor they barely have time to register because Milo is already wrapping his arms around my waist from behind. He bites down on my shoulder and slides his hand up under my shirt. The sensation makes me shiver and press backward against him. My ass rubs into Milo’s groin, and he shudders, his breath stuttering across my neck.

“Fuck, kitten. I want to bend you over and ruin you,” he says, voice low and hoarse.

“Do it,” I whisper, feeling reckless and powerful and so awake I could light up the city with my skin. I reach up and behind, pulling Milo flush against me while Holden kisses down my throat, alternating between rough and gentle, a threat and a promise in every touch.

Milo’s hands are everywhere—on my hips, up my shirt, splaying over my ribs. While Holden’s mouth is sealed on the hollow of my throat, Milo’s tongue traces the shell of my ear, his teeth nipping at the cartilage, making every inch of my body tingle. I want everything. I want to be ruined between them and remade by wanting it.

“Lift your arms, wildcat.” Holden pushes my shirt up and Milo peels it away, both of them making quick work of my bra. Then I’m naked between them, skin pebbled in the air. Milo’s palms close over my breasts, catching me by surprise, making me gasp and arch into his hands.

“Fucking beautiful.”

Holden slides his mouth lower, teeth scraping gently on my collarbone, then he bites—just hard enough to sting, and I moan, loud, desperate.

“Christ, you’re so sensitive,” Milo says, all mockery gone, his voice just pure need. “Can I fuck you? Please? Please let me.” He sounds almost reverent—a worshipper at the altar.

“He always this polite?” Holden murmurs against my throat, dry as bone, and Milo flips him off without breaking focus.

“Yes,” I say, no hesitation. “And yes, Milo. Fuck me, please.”

It’s surreal, how safe and desired I feel, bracketed between these two men who shouldn’t fit together, shouldn’t fit me, but somehow do.

Holden pushes me until the backs of my thighs hit the mattress and I fold backward.

Above me, the camera’s tiny power light glows red from the ceiling. For half a second I think about switching it on—the other three on the far side of that lens, watching us the way they were last night—and heat licks down my spine. But I leave it dark. Last night I gave them all of me through a screen. Tonight is just the three of us, no camera, no audience. Ours to keep.

Milo bends to lick the underside of my jaw before he shoves his jeans down and off, leaving him naked, hard, so ready I almost come just from wanting him. Holden shrugs his own shirt off and his chest is as perfect as always. Every fantasy I’ve ever had about authority, about being pinned down and ruined. There’s a hunger in his eyes that seems to surprise even him. He’s used to control, and right now he looks like he might lose it.

I fucking love that.

“I love the way you look at me, wildcat.”