I walk up to his front door and push my way through before hesitantly looking around. The door was unlocked and makes me wonder why. Around here, it’s crucial to have your doors locked, it’s downright careless not to.
The lights are all out and the only sound is coming from upstairs. I creep through the house, following what sounds like a PlayStation. I get to the top and smile to myself as I see the flashing light coming from his cracked door.
I head straight for it, knowing it’s now or never.
I push the door open and find Damian slouched over his couch with his PlayStation controller in his hand. The only light in the room comes from his TV and I watch in amusement as his head whips in my direction. His eyes bug out of his head and he hits pause on his controller then sits up on the couch.
“The fuck? What are you doing here?”
My eyes travel over his body, knowing he’ll be down for this. I take a hesitant step into his room and watch as he raises off the couch and slowly stalks towards me. After all, what else would he assume I’m here for?
I walk toward him, letting my jacket fall from my arms. I meet him in the middle and place my hand against his chest as he takes my waist. His eyes flick back toward his open door, checking for his parents before dropping his heated gaze back to mine. I raise my chin, letting my lips gently brush past his.
“Skylah,” he says in a no-bullshit tone. “Why are you here?”
The answer is damn obvious but he’s going to make me say it. “I need you to make me forget.”
“Forget what?”
I shake my head. “Talking ain’t part of the deal.”
He studies me for a moment before a slow grin spreads wide over his face. His fingers tighten on my waist and a thrill rushes through me as he drops his lips to the sensitive skin of my neck. His tongue teases me and goosebumps instantly begin raising over my skin.
A shiver rocks through me and I reach for the bottom of his shirt before sliding my hands up his warm skin and exploring the feel of his tight abs. They’re perfect, exactly as I thought they’d be. My hands travel up over his defined pecks and up to his shoulders before he makes things easier for me and shrugs out of his shirt.
He’s so warm and inviting and as his hands return to my body, I start to realize that maybe I can do this after all.
His fingers splay on my back as he pulls me in close to his body. I tilt my head to the side, allowing him more access and my body finally begins to relax when something presses into my back.
My body stiffens like a board as my heart takes off at a sprint. Hands are placed at my hips and I sense their eyes meet above my head.
Oh, holy fuck.
I glance around the room. Two phones tossed carelessly on the bed, two controllers set up from the PlayStation, two glasses on the bedside table, two plates. Fuck. How could I be so oblivious to the fact that he was here?
Damian’s hold tightens on my waist and he grins down at me with hunger in his eyes, but it’s the beast of a man at my back who has my breath coming in hard. I don’t dare turn back in fear of giving myself away. What’s this intense need building within me and why do I need him to touch me so bad?
Slade’s hand moves from my hip around to my stomach and his fingers dip into the waistband of my jeans. I feel his breath tickling my ear. “We can make you forget, Virago,” he murmurs low, making shivers travel down my spine.
We?
Shit.
I don’t dare respond.
It’s one thing coming here to seduce Damian to find out if I’m capable of putting the past behind me, but it’s another to have a dirty threesome with Slade Fucking Cruz. Though, I’m damn positive that getting jiggy with the two of them is guaranteed to make me forget. Hell, I’m bound to forget my damn name.
I swallow hard as a soft, devilish chuckle comes from Damian. Slade growls deep in his throat and one second, I’m wedged between their strong bodies and the next, he spins me so fast that I have a hard time keeping up.
I stare up at him with Damian’s dick now pressed firmly against my ass. Slade’s eyes are hooded and darker than I’ve ever seen them, and with the glow of the TV shining against his warm skin, I’m putty in his hands.
He takes my chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger. “You want this?”
Hell yes, I do, but why do I have such a hard time admitting it? Maybe he’s about to pull the rug out from under me, tell me this is all a sick joke and leave me high and dry. He’s too wild, too unpredictable.