Page 106 of Obey

One sharp tug and I’m sprawled across his lap. My dress hikes up, baring the ink scrawled along the backs of my thighs. A low curse comes from Elias who is sitting across from us, followed by the faint shift of leather as Nate moves next to him, as Jace’s palm slides beneath the hem, fingertips skating over the dark lines.

“Full of surprises,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

Then his mouth crashes into mine.

It’s not a kiss; it’s consumption that melts every thought I had left. One hand fists in his shirt, while the other tangles in his curls as the world narrows to the taste of him. His hips tilt up, and I feel him, hard and insistent against me.

Fuck. At this rate, all he needs to do is slide my panties to the side, and I can ride him right here in the backseat.

“Jace,” I breathe into his mouth as my hips roll against his. His fingers climb higher, curling possessively around my inner thigh. The word please hovers on the tip of my tongue before I swallow it back.

“I told you we should’ve sent a separate car,” Nate says from across the leather bench. His voice is cool, precise, but he doesn’t sound the slightest bit annoyed.

Then another hand closes around my ponytail. Larger. Firmer.

Elias draws my head back slowly until I’m looking up at him. “Hard to fault him,” he says, his finger tracing the neckline of my dress, making my nipples pebble. “He’s never learned to leave something alone when it’s this good.”

He dips his head until his nose brushes mine. “Isn’t that right, pup?”

Then his lips claim mine. He tastes like coffee and smoked sugar, the kind of flavor that ruins you for anything less intense. I whimper as his free hand slips beneath the neckline of my dress and teases my nipple, and he grunts in approval as he realizes I’m not wearing a bra.

“Elias,” I whisper against his mouth as my back arches on instinct, pressing harder into his touch.

His teeth graze my lower lip, and the sting of it goes straight to my core. “Don’t you want to let Nate taste how sweet you are, Little Doe?” A smile pulls at his mouth. Unhurried. Merciless.

My gaze finally finds Nate.

He hasn’t moved. One ankle crossed over his knee, tie straight, hair perfect. Only his eyes give him away, bright and patient behind his glasses, the kind of still that isn’t calm at all.

He uncrosses his ankle and crooks one finger. “Come here, Sola.”

I’m off Jace’s lap before I’ve decided to move. Jace makes a sound of protest that I don’t catch because Nate’s arm is already around my waist, pulling me down until I’m seated exactly where he wants me. The friction pulls a gasp out of me. His mouth catches it before it fully forms.

If Jace kisses like heat and Elias kisses like hunger, then Nate kisses with intention, each press of his mouth measured and exact enough to make me follow without realizing I'm doing it.

“So much for giving her the day to think it over,” Jace says, somewhere behind me.

Nate barely lifts his mouth from mine. “I didn’t tell her not to enjoy herself while she did.”

twenty-six

Red Lines

By the time we reach the restaurant, my legs have forgotten what they’re for.

They spent the entire ride with their hands and mouths on me until I couldn’t think straight, and now I’m trying to navigate four-inch heels with the coordination of a newborn deer.

The place they picked is the kind where the money is in the silence, not the sign. In the center of Union Square, it’s high ceilings, polished walnut, booths in deep jewel tones, and lighting engineered to make it feel like a secret even at noon.

The hostess takes in the three of them, then me, one of those quick, surgical looks that asks a whole question: What exactly is she to all of them?

I give her the sweet Southern charm my grandmother taught me. The one that says: I see you measuring me, and it’s best you mind the business that pays you.

“Reservation for Blackwell,” Nate says.

The hostess checks her iPad, but I suspect she already knows exactly who he is, and a hush follows us through the dining room, heads tilting as we pass.

Jace keeps his hand at the small of my back; Nate moves ahead already recalculating the room; Elias trails behind us, enormous and unhurried, the kind of unhurried that isn’t patience so much as indifference to whatever might object.