Their Brazen Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 8)

My hands came up and gripped his shirt, holding on, for if I didn’t, surely I’d float away, even though he was pressed up against me. Cupping my jaw, he angled my head to take the kiss deeper, and I melted. I gave over to the kiss, his touch, his control over it. It was my first one, and I had to wonder if I was doing it right, but from the little growl that escaped his throat, I had to assume yes. My shoulders drooped, my body all but wilted, as I let him hold me up.

I had no idea how long we kissed before he lifted his head and smiled down at me. “So sweet.”

“She just gave over to you,” Tucker said to his brother, his voice full of awe. “Her submission is beautiful.”

I frowned at his statement, but my brain was too muddled to try to understand. With just a touch, I succumbed to them.

But when his thumb stroked over the puckered flesh of my scar, I stiffened, every muscle in my body going taut. All pleasure, all heat from the kiss was doused as if dumping a bucket of cold water over a bonfire. I tried to tug my face away, but Gabe’s hold was sure.

“This scar is a problem,” he said matter of factly, meeting my eyes.

My emotions were so raw, so sensitive, tears spilled over. Yes, it was a problem. It had been ever since the night of the fire when my parents had been killed and I’d rescued James who had been trapped in his room by a fallen beam.

I hadn’t heard Tucker move, but when Gabe stepped away, he was right there to take his place. I felt every hard inch of him, the warmth of his body seeping into me. His hand came up, and his fingers stroked over the puckered flesh. “It’s just a mark, precious. A mark showing how brave you are.”

Brave? I wanted to laugh. I’d never known anyone to use brave in connection with my scar before. “It’s… it’s ugly.”

He looked as if he were considering that as he stepped back, rolled up one of his sleeves. While the room was warm, I shivered without their body heat. “See this?”

A jagged scar, a mixture of silvery white and pink, marred flesh covered the back side of his forearm.

“It’s from barbed wire.”

I could only imagine the pain he’d endured.

“You’re lucky you didn’t die from infection.”

Gabe grunted again. “He almost did.”

“So, am I ugly, precious?” Tucker asked.

“What? No!” I breathed. “Of course not.”

He arched one pale brow. “And why is that?”

“Because it’s just a scar.”

Neither man said anything, just let my words resonate.

It’s just a scar.

I bit my lip then sighed.

“Yes, it’s just a scar,” I agreed. “But people’s words still hurt.”

Tucker cupped my jaw just as Gabe had, stroked his thumb over my cheek. His other hand roamed once again over my body, and I all but melted. How did they do that to me?

“True enough. We’ll work on that. Later. Now, I want to kiss you.”

His eyes held mine as if waiting for me to object. I had no intention of doing so, for I wanted his kiss, too. So very much.

He was nothing like Gabe. His kiss, while gentle, was much more intense, more powerful. I could feel the need in it, the power. There was no question he controlled the kiss, controlled me. His hands were bolder, curving around my body and cupping my bottom, pulling me directly against the hard, thick line of his manhood. I whimpered into the kiss and felt my core heat, get wet. Become ready for them. My mouth, my mind, my body were all at Tucker’s mercy.

He pulled away, stepped back. His lips were shiny from the kiss, his eyes heavy-lidded, jaw tense. He was breathing as hard as I.

“Do you want more, precious? Do you want me touch your bare skin? Cup your breasts? I’ll bet your pussy’s nice and wet for us, isn’t it?”

I didn’t hesitate to nod at his very carnal words. I wanted everything I’d thought about alone in my bed, and then some. Just their kisses felt better than anything I’d ever done with my fingers between my thighs.