Authors: Kit Rocha
It had been so long since he'd had Rachel like this. Smiling at him, open. He'd killed her trust in bits and pieces the last time, crushing it so slowly he hadn't seen the light go out of her. But it was back now, so vivid he was almost afraid to touch her.
Almost. He smoothed his hands around to the small of her back and traced one up her spine. "Nah, she likes you. You'd get a warning."
"Not much of one." Her smile grew wicked. "Especially if I liked it."
Ace tried to imagine Bren and Rachel tangling tongues, and for the first time felt a hint of sympathy for Six's possessive tendencies. Playing could be fun, but he'd finally gotten his hands on Rachel, and sharing didn't appeal to him--with one exception.
That exception came walking through the door, clutching a package wrapped in brown paper. Cruz met his gaze with a short nod, and Ace dropped a quick kiss to Rachel's lips. "Now we're all here."
She raised one eyebrow at the parcel in Cruz's hands. "What's that?"
A miracle. Stuart did good business in leather and steel work for the O'Kanes, but his sister was the one with the delicate touch when it came to accessories. She'd accepted all of Ace's requests with a gleam in her eye at the money coming her way, but he'd had to promise her any tattoo she wanted to get one project done before tonight.
"This is an offer," Cruz answered, holding the package out to Rachel. "What happens next is your choice."
She took it and peeled away the paper wrapping slowly enough to reveal the fine tremor in her hands. By the time she opened the white box inside, the tremor had intensified. "I didn't know we were doing this right away. Today."
It had been Ace's idea. His safety net. The collar came with a set of rules he could wrap his brain around, and expectations he could handle. And Rachel would be
his
, for however long they maintained this precarious balance...
If she'd wear it.
Ace was still struggling for the right words--the ones that wouldn't push, wouldn't demand--when Cruz stepped into the silence.
And his words were as perfect as always, just like the way he delivered them. Strong and firm, as he cupped Rachel's cheek with one big hand. "It's like I said, sweetheart. It's an offer. Ace had it made, but we didn't discuss the details. Not without you. Whatever we make this, we decide together."
Rachel melted, her eyes drifting shut as she leaned into his touch. "I want it. It surprised me, that's all."
Cruz met his gaze over her head, and Ace's momentary prick of jealousy vanished under the naked hunger in the other man's eyes. Not guarded, not reluctant--and not all for Rachel this time.
Something had changed.
Smiling, Cruz slipped his hand into Rachel's hair and gathered it off her shoulders. "Ace?"
He reached around Rachel to retrieve the box, and damned if he didn't owe Stuart's sister
two
tattoos for the masterwork inside, because it was fucking perfect. Three strands of chain interwoven with thin black ribbon, not the cheap stuff they sold in the market but soft, nubby silk.
Ace lifted it out of the lining fabric, and Christ, his hands were close to shaking, too. "Turn around. It latches in the front."
When she complied, he looped the choker around her neck. The toggle clasp rested in the hollow of her throat, a perfect silver circle with another pair of beribboned chains trailing down between her breasts. Ace traced his fingers down their length with a smile. "Ribbons and chains."
Her eyes locked with his. He'd never settled on a color for them. Sometimes they flared a smoky gray that was almost blue, and sometimes they seemed more like hazel ringed with tiny flecks of gold.
He had a whole damn pre-Flare palette of colors memorized, and not one did justice for the way her eyes looked as she beamed up at him and whispered, "I love it."
Ace wrapped the ends of the chains around his fingers and gave them a teasing tug. "Me, too."
She gasped in a breath and reached back, steadying herself with one hand on Cruz's thigh. He locked an arm around her waist and met Ace's gaze again. "You two have been around the sectors for a while, so maybe this goes without saying, but I need it nice and clear. This means we're all-in? Exclusive?"
Exclusive. The word fit as awkwardly as another man's boots, carrying with it too many unpleasant memories.
Exclusive
had been his specialty in Eden, because that was what women wanted when they paid to be a man's muse--total, unshakable devotion.
After years of being owned, even the O'Kanes' definition of monogamy felt almost claustrophobic. But that's what a collar was--a promise that things were serious, that there would be no friendly visits to hookers or casual fucking with other friends.
Well, or at least that they'd visit the hookers and fuck the friends together.
"Rachel's still got her shows," he said slowly, buying time and covering his nerves with an easy smile. "Work shouldn't count. But I've been thinking of cutting back on mine, anyway. Too much shit to do in Three, and I'd rather spend my time spanking Rae."
He said the last with another teasing tug on the chain, and she swayed toward him. Then she leaned her head back against Cruz's shoulder. "You've already figured it out. Anything we want, so long as we all agree. But I..." She trailed off as she wound a hand in the front of Ace's shirt. "I don't want anybody else."
Beautiful fucking words, and they distracted him from his lingering unease. So did looking at her. She was gorgeous like this, her back bowed, chin up, chains--
his
chains--around her throat. He wanted to draw this moment, capture the way she was trapped between them, eager.
Theirs.
Cruz splayed a possessive hand just beneath her tits and smiled at Ace. "I'll have my hands full with the two of you."
"Especially Ace." Rachel tugged on the thin cotton he wore until he took a step forward. It aligned his hips with hers, and he felt the warmth of Cruz's arm through his shirt.
The other man smiled at him, and who could blame the girls for throwing themselves at the bastard's feet when he got that look in his eyes? Ace had created a monster, and that monster wasn't thinking
ours
.
He was thinking
mine
, and he was thinking it about both of them.
Ace stroked a hand up Rachel's arm and kept going, along Cruz's chest and up over his shoulder. "That's right, brother," he murmured, answering the unspoken words as much as the ones Rachel had given voice. "We'll keep your hands busy, won't we, Rae?"
Her hand drifted lower. "In the very best ways."
Cruz's eyes narrowed, and he caught Rachel's wrist. "Was Ace gentle with you this morning?"
Her breathing hitched, and her smile was pure bliss. "Excruciatingly."
"Tell me."
Ace opened his mouth, but Cruz shook his head, lifting Rachel's hand to press her finger against Ace's lips. "Not you. I want Rachel to tell me what you did to her."
"We took a shower," she whispered. "He used his fingers to make me come. God, it was so slow. Hot."
He'd wanted to use his tongue, but then he wouldn't have been able to watch her face as she drifted into bliss. So he used it now, drawing the tip of her index finger into his mouth and dragging his tongue in a slow, suggestive circle.
Her gaze clashed with his, and she shuddered in Cruz's arms. "I tried to push him," she confessed. "He wouldn't let me."
"Good," Cruz rumbled, releasing her wrist. Ace scraped his teeth along her finger as he pulled away, reveling in the flush climbing her cheeks. Christ, the two of them together could make her flush all over.
No, not could.
Would.
He pressed a kiss to Rachel's palm before taking a careful step back. Patience. She was warm now, soft and melting, but by the time the real party started tonight she'd be burning up. "Time to head over to the warehouse. You've got shots to pour, angel."
She blinked, then moaned faintly. "You play dirty. Both of you."
Cruz stroked his fingertips along the ribbons and chain at her throat and smiled. "No, for now we're playing it safe. Dirty comes later."
"Could have fooled me."
Ace couldn't leave that unchallenged. He leaned in and let his breath dance across the skin beneath her ear. "You know better, don't you, love?"
Her tongue touched her bottom lip, just for a moment, then she sighed shakily. "I have drinks to pour."
"Lots of drinks," Ace agreed, straightening. He broke the tension by tossing her a wink. "Better look out. Six is gunning for your record, angel."
"I hope she pulls it off." Rachel's smile took on an edge of shyness that did nothing to dull her happy glow. "This should be everyone's best day ever."
She didn't see his doubt, and Ace was glad. She burned so bright, with so much hope, he didn't have the heart to tell her it didn't get better than this.
So he touched her cheek and told her a version of the truth. His version. "Too late. It already is."
The last time Cruz had attended a welcome party, it had been his own.
He'd been the one downing shot after shot, trusting his training to keep him steady on his feet. And it might have, if the alcohol had been the most affecting part of the initiation. It
should
have been--there was nothing about booze and hugs that should have been more than quaint, maybe even innocent.
But there was a cunning sort of brilliance under the tradition. You took a shot--two, if you were a guy, or stubborn like Rachel and Six--and traversed a gauntlet of back slaps and embraces. Over and over, with the liquor chipping away at your defenses and the welcome sneaking its way under your skin. By the time he'd choked down the rotgut at the end of the line, he'd been grateful for his blessedly numb taste buds, not to mention drowning in the seductive allure of what Dallas O'Kane was offering.
Belonging. Family. The sectors were lousy with orphans, and Dallas knew just how to bind them to him. Not with fear or threats, but with loyalty and affection and the promise of comfort and companionship.
Lord knew it had worked on Six. She'd done her double shots and was still flying high, dancing with Rachel and Noelle in a tangle of long limbs and laughter. And that wasn't even the damn miracle.
Bren was watching her with a soft smile so at odds with his rough face, like everything worth having in the world rested on one wary-eyed brunette. Cruz had known the man for years, years during which he'd been sure there was nothing soft inside Brendan Donnelly.
Of course, Bren might have said the same about him.
Cruz fell in beside his friend as Noelle whispered something to Six that made her dissolve into husky laughter so wild that Rachel had to steady her. The chain around her throat caught a glint of light, stirring a longing he'd indulge. Soon.
For now, he smiled. "I have to admit, I figured she'd be throwing those shots back up by now."
Bren laughed--an honest-to-God fucking
laugh
. "Hey, there's no shame in that. Happens to the best of us."
Six would probably disagree. There was a pride in the girl that the entire brutal weight of the sectors hadn't been able to snuff out. It hadn't been evident in her earliest days, but that was another thing Dallas nurtured in the people he gathered close to him--stubborn, breathless pride.
And fuck, it was addictive. Far more habit-forming than the whiskey that supported their lifestyle. "Congratulations, Bren."
"The way I hear it, I should be congratulating you."
Oh yeah. Pride was addictive, all right. It filled his chest with the uncivilized smugness of a barbarian showing off his conquests. "Maybe, yeah."
"What, you're not sure?" Bren teased.
Cruz snorted. "I'm not sure what the rumors say. Not sure I
want
to know."
"No rumors. I heard it from Ace earlier today, and I've got eyes." Bren scratched his thumb over his forehead. "I know what you're thinking."
That made one of them. "And what's that?"
"That I'm going to tell you it's wrong. That you can't do this--no way, no how. That you're going to hell, or someplace worse. That you need to stop thinking with your dick."
Maybe he was, somewhere deep in his gut, because the words still held power. "I keep waiting for someone to," he admitted quietly. "I don't know why, because it wouldn't stop me anymore."
"Then you shouldn't let it. Full stop."
"Even if I want them both?"
Bren surveyed the crowd. He nodded to where Rachel was dancing with Six and Noelle, then over to where Ace stood. He was talking to Jasper, but his gaze was fixed on Rachel. "From where I stand, it looks like those two are down with it. What else matters?"
"That simple?"
"Does it have to be hard?" Bren shrugged. "You want to know what Six has really taught me? That everyone needs to be loved."
Love again. Everything came back to it.
As if to prove that, Six broke free of the laughing dancers and prowled toward them, weaving dangerously and blind to anything but Bren. She crossed the last three steps in a drunken stagger and hopped up to lock her arms and legs around Bren. "Hey."
He stroked her hair back from her face. "Hey yourself, sweetness. You ready to bug out yet?"
She grinned at him. "Told you I wouldn't puke, old man."
"That you did." Bren turned, but not before casting one last pointed look at Cruz. "You have what you want. Don't lose it over bullshit. Trust me."
How could he not? Bren had a woman who adored him wrapped around his body, but the real truths were in the details. The way prickly, prideful Six turned her cheek to Bren's shoulder as they walked away, tucking her face trustingly against his neck.
Not that Rachel was prickly or prideful--hell, she was the opposite, so blithely vulnerable it wrecked him--but Ace was both. Hell, Ace was broken in places he still wouldn't let Cruz see, much less touch. Rachel was the only one with a chance of reaching him, and only if Cruz could keep those sharp edges from slicing her to the bone.
A dangerous tangle that could explode in a dozen directions, but Bren was right. If it went bad, it shouldn't be over bullshit.