“Have to what?” says Snark. He leans in, putting his handsome face only inches from mine and smiles that pantydropper smile of his. “I don’t know what those mob fucks you’re used to like, but we’re not opposed to tits and ass, and honey, you’ve got both.” He flicks his tongue against his lip, and breathtaking memories of what he can do with it flashes through my brain.
“But I'm not—”
He puts a finger under my chin to make me look up at him, even as Bear slides his hand further up my thigh. Involuntarily, I push my hips forward a little, my body seeking the contact I’ve been longing for since I recovered from Izzy’s birth. I remind myself that the only thing keeping my leggings on is the elastic waistband, and it would take hardly any effort to slide them down.
“You're not what? Beautiful? Sexy?” Snark brushes the hair that's escaped from my ponytail out of my face. “Say the word, and we'll have you right back where this all began. Naked, full of cock and going off like a rocket.”
“I've been fucking thinking about you since that night,” whispers Bear into my ear. “We kept hoping you'd come back to the club, after you took off like some kind of sexy-ass Cinderella. It wasn't fair how you showed up to drive us fucking insane, and then disappeared completely.”
“I… I had to go back home. And then, well—” I gesture at the bedroom.
“So how about making up for lost time?” Snark puts a hand on my side, sliding it up dangerously close to my breast.
God, I haven't been with anyone since that night. How would I? Between the pregnancy and taking care of the baby, there hasn't exactly been a lot of time to think about it. Besides, ever since that night, all my fantasies involve the four of them.
Making up for lost time sounds amazing. On the other hand, am I ready to jump right into… What? A relationship? I shake my head. “I shouldn't. Not yet.” I should probably just tell them no, because that path only leads to more trouble, but I don't have it in me.
Bear chuckles deep in his cavernous chest. “Shouldn’t what? Fuck?” He pauses for all of a second. “How about just a little stress relief? 'Cause the way you're squirming in your seat, I think you could use it.”
“I don't—I mean—”
Snark flicks his tongue at me for emphasis. His hand slides up to cover my breast. My shirt pulls up with it. “Fuck, and here I hadn't thought you could've gotten sexier.”
God, these guys make it hard to remember why I should say no. So when Bear tugs on my leggings, I raise my hips.
And keys rattle in the lock.
“Shit! It's Bea,” I gasp, grabbing my pants to yank them back up.
“Fuck,” both Bear and Snark say together, as the door opens.
Bea steps in, stopping with her hand still in the air. “Well, well, well. Don't let me stop you. I'll just go hide in my room.”
“Wait, no.” Some semblance of sense comes to me. “No. I… I think you guys better go for now.”
Beatrice looks at me with a level of disappointment that rivals that of the guys'. Bear growls and Snark still has a hand on my breast. He lets me push it away, but grudgingly.
“Seriously. If Bea’s back, that means I have to get to class. And I still need to shower and get ready first.” When their eyes light up, I push off the couch to put a little space between us. “Alone. Our shower isn't big enough anyway.”
With heavy sighs and the rearrangement of pants, the guys get to their feet. “We'll be back to check on you and Izzy soon,” says Bear in a tone that makes it obvious our welfare isn’t the only thing he has in mind. I notice he's adopted my nickname for her, though.
“Yeah,” I say breathlessly. My heart's still going pitter patter while the adrenaline is wearing off. “Thanks for coming.”
“Wish that were true,” says Snark, and gets his arm punched by Bear. “Like you weren’t thinking the same thing.”
“Later, babe,” says Bear, and then they're gone. A moment later their van pulls out of the parking lot.
Bea looks at me with her arms crossed over her chest and a raised eyebrow. “Busy day?”
“God, you have no idea.”
10
SNARK
“Where the fuck have you two been?” snaps Viking as we come up the front stairs to the clubhouse. It's warm for being this late in fall and they've thrown the front doors open. “Quickshot's been looking for the van. Where are your cuts? I don't like being kept in the dark, boys.”
As we come in, Quickshot—one of the youngest of the blooded members—holds up a hand across the common room. “Hey!”
“Here!” I throw him the keys to the van while Bear struggles out of the dumb hoodie and tosses it on a couch. Quickshot snaps them out of the air with a nod and a cocky smile.