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I didn’t have to worry about stumbling or falling because Fynn would never let me do either. Clinging to him, I bit my lip to get keep from saying or making any embarrassing noises while being jostled in his arms, but Micah’s name tumbled out anyway.

“Just a little bit farther,” Fynn soothed.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, feeling tears sting my eyes.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered. “This is not your fault, Mads.”

I nuzzled my cheek against his, the bristles of his facial hair scratching over my skin. “I won’t let him get mad at you.”

Fynn chuckled, his warm breath created a string of tingles that nearly made me moan. I’d always thought Fynn was an attractive guy. I mean, I wasn’t blind. What wasn’t to like about him? But he’d only been a friend. So why was my body buzzing and so damn turned on?

My fingers itched to run through his dark hair. It had gotten longer, and I wondered if it would be as soft as it looked.

Specks of humor danced in his green eyes. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“You have pretty eyes. I always thought so.” At this point, I was just spewing random shit. True, though.

Another chuckle rumbled underneath me, and I felt him shake his head.

Micah sat on the front porch, still in his football practice gear, when we finally turned the corner onto his street. He was up on his feet and crossing the lawn the moment he laid on eyes on us. His eyes were hard while inspecting me. “What did he do to her?” he thundered, his voice so low, I swore the ground shook.

I squirmed in Fynn’s arms, silently demanding to be put down. There was only one place I wanted to be. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I threw myself against Micah, his arms immediately surrounding me.

“She’s rolling. Sterling injected her with Molly,” Grayson replied, his tone dripping with loathing.

Micah’s body jerked against mine, turning rigid. “He’s fucking dead.”

Grayson folded his arms. “Yeah, I told him that much already.”

Somehow, I’d forgotten that someone did this to me. I nipped at Micah’s ear, biting down harder the second time. He turned his head, looking down at me with watchful eyes, and I couldn’t tell if he wanted to scold me or beg me to do it again. I knew which one I wanted.

Fynn's eyes were darker than usual. “You’ve got a problem on your hands, Micah,” he declared. “We got a glimpse of the real Sterling, and it was disturbing.”

Grayson agreed, nodding. “I got the impression he wanted me to hurt him tonight. Like he craved it.”

Micah’s arm firmed against me, keeping tight to his side. “In that case, I’m happy to oblige. I’m more than willing to give him pain that will last for months.”

“Not tonight,” Josie stated, her hands on her hips as she put herself in front of Micah. “She needs you.” Her sharp gaze slid to me.

Micah looked at me again, understanding shadowing those sky-blue eyes. “Fuck.”

Grayson tried to contain the grin that pulled at his lips. “Just think of it as another way to burn through your anger.”

Fynn smirked. “If you’re not up for it, I could always step up—”

“Get fucking lost before I decide to break your neck instead of Sterling’s.” His implication was harsh, but it lacked substantial heat.

A husky laugh rumbled from Fynn’s chest. “Get her inside. We’ll make sure neither Sterling nor his boys come anywhere near this house tonight. Brock has us on rotation.”

Micah raked his fingers through his hair. “I owe you.”

“You know that’s not how we work,” Grayson said. “Nothing is ever owed.”

Micah nodded.

Beads of sweat rolled down my shirt between my breasts. My neck was damp with perspiration, pieces of hair sticking to my skin. God, it was fucking hot. I had to cool off before I literally burst into flames. The sun was setting, yet it felt as if it had zeroed me out in the world, sending its sweltering rays just to me. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Maddy, what are you doing?” Micah demanded sharply.


Tags: J.L. Weil Elite of Elmwood Romance