Chapter 4: Aftermath and a New Arrangement
The warm, damp towel Jace used was softer than she expected. He knelt before the worn leather couch, his movements deliberate, cleaning the evidence of Rhett’s possession from her thighs with a focus that felt like a sacrament. Sadie watched the top of his head, her breathing still uneven. The roughness of the wall against her back seemed etched into her skin, but this, this careful attention, was undoing her just as completely.
Rhett hadn’t moved from his place on the floor, his back against the couch near her hip. He held her hand not with force, but with a steady weight, his thumb tracing absent, grounding circles on her palm. The rain on the roof had softened from a frantic drumbeat to a steady, soothing hush.
“I need to understand what this is,” she said into the quiet. Her voice was scraped raw, from screaming, from crying out. “What we are.”
Rhett’s thumb stilled for a second before resuming its path. He tilted his head back to look up at her. In the fluorescent light, the hard planes of his face seemed less like armor and more like something weathered, real. “It’s us,” he said, the words simple and heavy.
Jace tossed the towel aside and sat next to her on the couch, the old leather creaking. He put his hand on her blanket-covered knee. “It’s the three of us, in a garage, in the middle of fucking nowhere, after a storm.” He squeezed gently. “It’s not a label from a party game, Brooks. It’s this.”
She looked from one to the other. Rhett, a solid, silent force emanating heat against her side. Jace, a more open flame, watchful and intent. The weight of their attention wasn’t smothering. It was an anchor. She’d been drifting for so long, a chaotic bit of debris in her own life. This felt like being found. It was terrifying.
“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted, the confession leaving her lips before she could cage it.
“Do what?” Jace asked, his voice low.
“Be… had. Like this. Belong to someone. To two someones.” She swallowed. “It makes me want to run just to see if you’ll follow.”
Rhett turned fully now, resting his chin on the couch cushion beside her hip, his dark eyes level with hers. “You ran. I followed. I’ll always follow.” He said it without ornament, a statement of fact as plain as the tools on his bench.
“And I’ll be right behind him,” Jace added, a ghost of a smile touching his mouth. “Probably to tell him he’s being an emotionally constipated asshole about it. But I’ll be there.”
A shaky laugh escaped her, breaking the last of the tension. She slipped her hand from Rhett’s and touched the side of his face, her fingers tracing the stubble along his jaw. He closed his eyes, leaning into the touch. The submission in that small gesture, from him, stole her breath.
“Okay,” she whispered.
“Okay what?” Rhett asked, his eyes still closed.
“Okay, I’m not running. Not tonight.”
His eyes opened. The intensity there was different now. Not a threat, but a promise. A deep, unsettling vow. “Not any night.”
She believed him.
The exhaustion hit her then, a physical wave that made her limbs feel liquid. The adrenaline of the fight, the brutal coupling, the emotional purge—it all crashed down. She sank deeper into the couch, into the blanket, into the space between the two men.
Jace seemed to sense it. “You’re wiped. You should sleep.”
“Here?” she murmured.
“Right here,” Rhett said. He pushed himself up. “Move over.”
She shifted drowsily toward Jace, who lifted his arm. Rhett lay down on the couch behind her, his big body spooning hers against the back cushions. He pulled the blanket over them both. Jace stayed seated, but shifted to face them, one leg tucked underneath him, his hand coming to rest on her hip over the blanket.
Encased in their heat, their scent—motor oil, leather, male skin—Sadie felt a safety so profound it ached. Her eyes grew heavy. The last thing she was aware of was the press of Rhett’s lips against the nape of her neck, and the steady stroke of Jace’s thumb over her hipbone.
She woke to darkness and the deep, even sound of Rhett breathing behind her. The garage was lit only by a single safety bulb over the workbench, casting everything in deep blue shadow. Jace was gone from the couch, but a soft clinking sound came from the small sink in the corner.
She was thirsty. And achingly aware of the hard line of Rhett’s body against hers, the way his arm was slung possessively over her waist. The soreness between her legs was a dull, pleasant throb. The memory of the wall, of his anger and his hunger, flashed hot behind her eyes. This time, it didn’t spark fear or defiance. It lit a different kind of fire.
She carefully lifted his arm and slid out from under it. He grunted in his sleep but didn’t wake. Padding barefoot across the cool concrete, she found Jace rinsing a coffee mug.
“Hey,” she said, her voice sleep-rough.
He turned, leaning back against the sink. “Hey yourself. Water?”
“Please.”
He filled a clean mug and handed it to her. She drank greedily, watching him over the rim. He was watching her back, his expression unreadable in the low light.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked.
“I slept. Now I’m awake.” She set the mug down. The blanket was still wrapped around her shoulders like a cape. She felt exposed and daring beneath it. “You said I wouldn’t have to ask next time.”
A slow smile spread across Jace’s face. “I did say that.”
“I don’t want to ask.” She let the blanket drop. It pooled at her feet, leaving her standing in just the oversized flannel, which hung open, barely concealing her body. The cool air pebbled her skin. “I want to take.”
Jace’s gaze dipped, heated. He didn’t move from the sink. “Then take.”
She crossed the space to him, stopping when their bodies were almost touching. She could feel the warmth coming off him. Reaching out, she undid the button of his jeans, then slowly dragged the zipper down. He sucked in a breath but stayed perfectly still, letting her work.
She freed his cock, already half-hard and thickening in her hand. She didn’t stroke him. She just held the weight of him, her fingers curling firmly around the base. “You watch everything,” she said, looking up at him. “You watch him give it to me. You watch me fall apart. I want you to feel it.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, dark and eager. “Yeah. Okay.”
She turned, still holding him, and guided him toward the couch. Toward Rhett.
Rhett was awake. She could see the gleam of his eyes in the dark. He’d shifted onto his back, watching them approach. His face was a mask of stark hunger.
“Jace fucks me this time,” she stated, not asking. “And you watch. You get to see what it looks like when I take what I want.”
A muscle ticked in Rhett’s jaw. His gaze burned into hers for a long moment. Then he gave a single, sharp nod. Permission. Encouragement. A command.
She climbed onto the couch, straddling Rhett’s hips, but facing Jace. Rhett’s hands came up to grip her bare thighs, his touch branding.
“Give it to me,” she said to Jace, her voice low and raw.
Jace moved behind her, his hands settling on her waist. The head of his cock nudged against her entrance. She was still wet, still open from earlier. He pushed in, a slow, devastating invasion that made her back arch. A gasp tore from her throat.
“Fuck,” Rhett breathed beneath her, his fingers digging into her flesh as he felt Jace enter her, the movement transmitted through her body into his.
Jace set a deep, rhythmic pace, each thrust driving her down onto Rhett. She could feel Rhett, hard and trapped beneath her ass, the denim of his jeans rough against her skin. The dual sensation was overwhelming. Jace filling her from behind, Rhett’s solid presence beneath her, his hands now roaming up her sides, pushing the flannel off her shoulders until it hung from her elbows, baring her breasts to the cool air.
“Look at her,” Jace grunted, his pace quickening, becoming less controlled. “Look at how fucking beautiful she is taking my cock. You feel it, man? You feel her getting fucked on top of you?”
Rhett’s answer was a raw sound, almost a snarl. One of his hands slid around her front, his fingers finding her clit. He worked her in tight, ruthless circles, matching Jace’s rhythm. The coil in her belly wound tight, impossibly fast.
“That’s it, Sadie,” Jace panted, his hips slapping against her ass. “Take it. Come all over his fucking hand. Show him.”
The orgasm detonated, a silent, white-hot explosion that ripped a scream from her lungs. She clenched around Jace, convulsing, and felt him curse, his thrusts growing erratic before he drove deep and held, pulsing inside her with a groan that was half relief, half triumph.
She collapsed forward, onto Rhett’s chest, a boneless heap of sensation. Jace stayed lodged within her for a moment before gently pulling out. Rhett’s arms came around her, crushing her to him. He rolled them suddenly, pinning her beneath his weight on the narrow couch. His jeans were undone in a frantic scrape of fabric, and he was sheathing himself in her wet, used heat before she could catch her breath.
“Mine,” he growled against her mouth, his thrusts hard and claiming. “Always mine.” He was chasing his own peak, fueled by the sight and the feel of what had just happened. It was fast, brutal, and over in a handful of strokes. He came with a shattered groan, his body shuddering against hers.
The silence returned, thick and saturated. Jace had sunk into the old armchair nearby, breathing heavily. Rhett lay heavy on her, his face buried in her neck. She could feel both of them on her skin, in her body.
Eventually, Rhett shifted, lifting his weight but keeping an arm around her. Jace stood, went to the sink, and brought back another damp towel. This time, Rhett took it from him and cleaned her himself, his touch now infinitely gentle. He pulled the blanket back over them.
No one spoke for a long time. The events of the night hung in the air, acknowledged, accepted.
“The frame in the corner,” Sadie said quietly, her head on Rhett’s chest. “The motorcycle. It’s different from the others.”
Rhett’s heart beat steady under her ear. “Yeah.”
“It’s smaller.”
“It is.”
She understood. A design for her. Something he’d been building, piece by piece, long before he ever had the right. A silent promise made of steel and torque.
Jace smiled from the armchair, a real, easy smile. “Gonna be a bitch to teach you to shift, Brooks.”
“I’m a quick learner,” she said.
Outside, the rain had stopped. The world was quiet, waiting for dawn. Inside the oil-stained fortress, wrapped in the arms of her two quiet, dangerous men, Sadie Brooks finally stopped planning her escape. For the first time, she thought about what it might mean to stay.