Page 73 of Shared By the Mountain Men Triplets

I lift her, and her legs wrap around my waist like she belongs there. Like she’s always belonged there. The heat of her presses against me through too many layers, and my hands close too hard on her thighs before I tell myself to loosen my grip.

She can take it, but I’m too close to forgetting the difference between wanting and taking.

“I’m not breakable,” she says, like this woman’s reading my mind, and my control fractures.

I carry her down the hall into my room, kick the door mostly shut behind us, and set her on her feet beside the bed.

For a second, we stare at each other. The urgency is still there, clawing under my skin, but there’s something deeper moving with it.

Wren grabs the bottom of her sweater and pulls it over her head, and my breath hitches. She stands there in front of me, soft and bare and beautiful, the low light of the lamp in the corner tracing her body’s curves. She’s trembling, but her spine is straight.

“Do you know what you are to us?” I ask. I drink her in, but don’t touch her yet.

“Tell me.”

“Everything.” I cup her face in both hands. “The woman we protect, the woman who challenges us, the woman whowalked into our cabin and made it feel like a home before we had the sense to realize what that would mean.”

Her eyes shine, and now her lip trembles, too. “Rhett.”

“You belong to all of us.” I brush away a single tear with my thumb. “Even when it’s only me touching you. You’re ours.”

Her breath shudders, and she whispers, “And you’re mine.”

I kiss her again, slower this time, and treat her with the reverence I wasn’t patient enough for before. I skim my hands over her shoulders, down along her back, and around the curve of her waist. I lower my mouth to her breast and take my time, licking, sucking, and biting, until her breathing turns ragged.

When she says my name again, I lay her on the bed and follow her down. Impatient, she reaches for my shirt, and I help her take it off. Her hands slide over my chest with a tenderness that could break me as easily as a bullet.

I cover her hand with mine and pin it over my heart.

Her gold-edged eyes look up at me. “I can feel your heart beating.”

“For you.”

Her eyes widen, and her body goes still for a beat.

Some men can say pretty things easily. Boone can make anyone smile, but I’ve always been better with decisions than declarations. I’ve never meant anything as deeply.

I lower my hips to hers, and kiss her mouth until the shine in her eyes turns to heat. When she works hershorts off her hips, I move down her body and make love to her pussy until she’s whimpering and moaning my name.

When she tells me she needs more, I push off my jeans and sink into her wet heat, and she arches beneath me with a sound I feel in my bones.

I go still inside her, every muscle in my body locking.

“Rhett?”

“Need a second.”

Her hands frame my face. “Are you okay?”

No. Yes. I don’t know.

I’ve been hunted, shot at, blown off my feet. I’ve held men together with my hands and given orders that sent soldiers into fire because the mission demanded it.

Nothing has ever felt as dangerous as being inside Wren Hollis and realizing I’m not holding anything back from her anymore.

She has all of me. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

“I’m trying not to lose my mind,” I say, so she won’t be concerned.