Page 110 of Snowed In with Benefits

“That we don’t know how to live without you anymore,” Beau says.

“And we want everything with you,” Hunter adds.

“Not something with an end date.” Emmett runs his hand over my shoulder.

My heart is racing. I feel dizzy. “I’ve been falling for you, too,” I admit. “All of you. For a while now.” My voice cracks and I push through it. “But I kept telling myself it couldn’t be real. That wanting all three of you was too much. That it made me greedy, or broken, or, I don’t know. Wrong. My whole life people have told me what I’m supposed to want, and this was never on the list, and I thought that meant I wasn’t allowed to have it.”

Emmett tips my chin up with his hand. “What have we been telling you, city girl?”

I shake my head, not knowing what he means.

Hunter chuckles. “You can have anything you want.”

I smile through my tears.

Beau’s voice is rough. “What do you want?”

“You,” I whisper. “All three of you.”

The muffled party hums on the other side of the door, distant and forgotten. The kitchen light is warm and soft and none of us move. Four people standing in a circle, three in flannel, one in a dress that doesn’t belong to her anymore, and for the first time in my life, I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.

42

EMMETT

Something lights up in me when she says it. You, all three of you. I’ve been holding back since we first got here and I saw her. I can’t hold back anymore. I cup her face in my hands and kiss her, hard.

She melts against me. Her hands fist my shirt, pulling me even closer. She’s kissing me back like she’s been starving for it. Maybe she has. Maybe she really does feel the lack of us the same way I feel the lack of her.

Hunter’s hands find her waist from one side, his mouth on her shoulder, and her breath hitches against my lips. Beau is on her other side a heartbeat later, his hands wandering over her, his mouth on her neck. This week of missing her and wanting her and pretending we were fine without her all spills over at once as we touch her body.

She’s gasping, touching us back. Holding Beau’s head close to her neck. Pulling Hunter in on her other side. I can feel the heat of her bleeding through the fabric everywhere we touch, and when she grinds against me, her soft designer dress against my rough denim, I almost lose it.

I’m hard already. There’s no lock on this door and fifty people are twenty feet away. Somebody is going to walk in and see this. See her, surrounded by us. I saw how they were looking at us. They’d think the worst.

“The pantry,” Hunter whispers.

I look up to where he’s pointing. A door on the far side of the kitchen. We move toward it together, none of us letting go of her, four bodies crossing the room like we’ve rehearsed this. Hunter pulls the door open and we all tumble inside.

It’s big for a pantry. It’s small for four people. Spices hit my senses, cinnamon and cloves and brown sugar, and it smells like Christmas in a rich person’s house. We’re in the heart of her parents’ home, claiming her while they hobnob outside with people who couldn’t pick her soul out of a lineup.

Hunter and Beau press back against the shelves and I have the door at my back. I pull it shut and the latch clicks and the party drops to a low hum on the other side, another world. It’s dim in here, just a sliver of light under the door. Josie is in the middle of all of us, breathing hard, one hand flat on Beau’s chest, the other fisted in Hunter’s shirt. Her eyes find mine in the half-dark. I kiss her again.

Beau’s hands find the hem of her dress and start working it up over her thighs. I slip her panties down and feel them pool around her ankles, warm silk against my knuckles. The dress comes up and off and Hunter’s hands are already there, unhooking her bra, letting it fall. And then she’s bare. Fully naked between three men who are still completely dressed, and the sight of her knocks the breath out of me. Hunter pulls her back against his chest, his mouth on her neck, his hands everywhere. Beau is at her side, kissing her jaw, her shoulder, his grip tightening on her hips. I can’t stop looking at her.

I drop to my knees. The linoleum is cold and hard and I don’t care. I would drop to my knees on a carpet made of glass if it meant surrendering to her. I pick her up, hooking both of her legs over my shoulders so she’s completely off the ground, held up between me and Hunter, spread open for me.

I put my mouth on her. She gasps, her hand fisting in my hair.

Beau pulls back from kissing her and gets a look on his face, a wicked half-grin. He reaches behind him without looking and his hand comes back with a jar of cinnamon honey. I watch him drizzle it over her breasts, watch it run down her skin. He leans in and licks it off slowly, his tongue tracing the lines of it, sucking it off her nipples. She moans. My grip tightens on her thighs hard enough to leave marks and my rhythm falters for a second. Some of the honey drips down, over her stomach and between her legs. The spicy sweetness over her natural taste makes me groan against her. It’s a desperate, needy sound, but I can’t hold it in.

Hunter laughs low in her ear. “You’re wrecking Emmett,” he says. “I bet you could make him come just from finishing on his face.”

I growl from between her legs. “The only place I’m coming tonight is inside her.” I’ve been missing her too damn long for anything else.

My tongue works over her, slow and deliberate, tasting honey and tasting her. She’s gasping, moaning softly, her fingers twisting in my hair. My body has done a lot. I’ve swung an axe and split wood and framed walls and never once thought of any of it as anything but work. But this—on my knees on cold linoleum with her thighs shaking on my shoulders—this is what my body was actually made for. I’d stay here as long as she’d let me.

“That’s right, you bad girl,” Beau says. “Who does this to you? Who gets you this wet?”