Beautiful, reckless, infuriating idiots.
I tightened the bandage, biting down on a hiss. My shoulder was still sore from sparring, a dark bruise blooming beneath the wrappings, but that wasn’t what had Summer restless. She was pacing now, clawing behind my ribs. Something was-
Sound.
Barely audible.
A sharp inhale. A low, gritted groan.
Water.
Steam.
I blinked. “No.”
It couldn’t be. They wouldn’t. Not again.
But Summer was already pushing forward in my mind, dragging every primal instinct to the surface.
‘Listen,’ she urged.
I did.
And I shouldn’t have.
Because I heard it. The hitch in Derrick’s breath, the rough noise in Dalton’s throat. A soft grunt. My name.
My whole body froze.
Images-unbidden and too vivid-rushed into my mind like wildfire. Water sliding over bronzed skin, carved abs flexing beneath the spray, steam curling over thick muscles and half-lidded eyes. The kind of smirks that made girls melt and enemies die.
And then-
Dalton. On my bed. Hand wrapped around himself, eyes locked on mine like I was the answer to every unholy thought he’d ever had.
I snapped my eyes open, panting. A pulse of heat rolled down my body and pooled low in my belly. Damn it. My traitorous wolf was already halfway to the door.
‘Summer, no-‘
But she didn’t listen.
And maybe I didn’t want her to.
Because I was already moving.
Barefoot, silent. Every instinct screaming to turn back, to grab the rest of my clothes, to remember why I kept walls between us. Why I couldn’t let myself be weak.
But the towel was forgotten on the bench.
The bandages were loose and hanging from my hand.
I reached the edge of the hallway where the row of showers began and paused, heart pounding like a war drum in my ears.
Voices.
Muffled.
Moaning.
My thighs pressed together of their own accord, a sharp pulse between them making my breath catch.
What the hell was wrong with me?
I could turn back. I should turn back.
But my feet kept going.
I stopped just outside the corner, hidden in the shadows, where the steam was thickest. I leaned against the cold tile, trying to regain some sanity, some clarity.
It didn’t work.
The sounds were clearer now.
A curse. A whisper.
My name.
Dalton groaned, low and rough. Derrick hissed something guttural. Their wolves were close to the surface-I could feel them-scratching and snarling for control.
Just like Summer.
I tried to breathe. Tried to tell myself this wasn’t happening again.
But I was soaked-and not from the water.
“Just a peek,” I whispered to myself.
Just to prove it. Just to catch them in the act and have enough leverage to fry them twice over with their own humiliation.
That’s what I told myself anyway.
But I was lying.
Because I wanted it.
Goddess help me-I wanted them.
The second I stepped into the steamy stall area, the air hit me like a punch to the lungs. Hot, humid, thick with the scent of soap, skin, and them. My fingers trembled as I clung to the edge of the tiled wall, peeking around it.
I should’ve turned around.
I should’ve run.
But I didn’t.
Because they were there.
Right in front of me.
The showers hissed above them, water cascading over every inch of their bare skin- glistening, golden, carved like fucking gods.
Dalton stood under the far stream, head tilted back, dark lashes resting against flushed cheeks. One hand was braced on the wall in front of him, the other… stroking himself, slow and deliberate. Thick, veined, his c**k straining in his grip, swollen and flushed and glistening with water and precum.
Next to him, Derrick mirrored the position-eyes closed, muscles tight, hand moving in sync with his enemy’s. Their rhythm was unhurried, practiced. They weren’t just getting off.
They were enjoying the show they thought no one could see.
And they didn’t know I was there.
I couldn’t breathe.
My knees went weak.
Every nerve in my body lit up at once, and a soft, helpless whimper escaped my throat.
A mistake.
Because Derrick’s eyes snapped open, molten chocolate clashing with mine like a spark to gasoline.
I froze.
But he didn’t.
He licked his lips, the corner of his mouth curling into something filthy and pleased. His grip didn’t slow. If anything, he stroked himself harder, hand pumping over the thick shaft of his C**k like he wanted me to watch.
I couldn’t look away. Couldn’t even pretend to.
Dalton groaned, low and rough. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, head still back, voice dragging over my skin like velvet and teeth. “Gorgeous, baby girl.”
I turned my gaze to him-and damn near moaned.
He wasn’t stopping either.
His fangs had slipped down, glinting behind parted lips as he worked his hand along his c**k. His chest heaved with every breath, his free hand now gripping his own shoulder like he was holding himself back.
From what?
From me?
Fuck.
Hot.
So fucking hot.
“Do you like the show, little mouse?” Derrick purred, stepping slightly closer. His hand never left his c**k. He was stroking it for me, thinking of me. Brown eyes flicked down my naked body and back up with a heat that scorched.
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