Somehow, neither of them so much as flinched in their calming strokes against her skin.
“Good girl,” Theodore whispered, his lips moving over her temple. He tilted her chin up, and she was so sleepy she barely even registered the soft kiss until he was pulling away, his thumbs brushing over her temples again. “Thank you for telling us.”
“I’m running out of time,” she breathed out softly, wondering at the huge weight that had just lifted off her chest, at the silky, warm river of feeling that wound its way through her. “I’m sick of secrets.”
He kissed her temples, their combined scents wrapping around her like a fuzzy blanket, warm and earthy and sweet. Her eyelids began to droop.
“Do you mind if I take your phone tonight?”
She barely registered Theodore’s voice and nodded just to make him go back to stroking and kissing her temples, but he gripped her chin gently, demanding her attention.
“Can I take your phone, Illy?”
“Will they find out I told you?” she asked, hating the tremble in her voice.
“Never.” He kissed her lips again, another soft, drugging brush before pulling back, a groan building in his chest. “I think it’s time for bed. Kili? Can you bring Oscar in without anyone seeing?”
“On it.” Kilian gently set her legs down and she could hear him drying off before slipping out of the room.
Theodore bundled her in tighter, a shudder passing through his chest as he kissed the side of her mouth again. “He’ll make sure it looks like you’re sleeping in my room alone. Why did Oscar want to stay with you tonight?”
“I forget.” She nuzzled against his chest, her hands winding around his neck, her sigh spilling out over his wet skin. He seemed to be almost naked, but she could feel material beneath her thighs, where her borrowed boxers had ridden up.
The door opened again, and she turned further against Theodore’s chest squeezing her eyes shut at the brief flash of light.
“I have clothes,” Kilian said.
Theodore stood, still holding her with one arm as he turned off the shower, and then set her down on the fluffy bathmat, holding her by the hips as she continued to lean on him.
“Why do I feel so funny?” she mumbled against his skin. “So sleepy.”
“I think the bond is a little overloaded, baby.” Kilian squeezed most of the moisture from the long length of her hair with a thick towel. “We’re going to take off these clothes now, okay? Theo will close his eyes.”
“Like fuck—” Theodore started to growl, his fingers pinching in against her hips, before he cut himself off on a rough vibration of sound, which quickly faded to something more comforting, like a gentle rumble. “They’re closed.”
Kilian slipped the wet boxers down her legs wordlessly, Theodore holding her steady as Kilian lifted each leg clear. She felt drugged, or drunk. Like her soul had been slowly dying of thirst and then suddenly it had been tossed into a swimming pool of the sweetest wine, and it had just soaked all of it up, desperate gulp by desperate gulp.
Kilian dried her legs and she sighed contentedly against Theodore’s skin, which was heating up to an almost uncomfortable level. Kilian stood again, his towel-covered hand pushing between her legs. She flinched as a bolt of heat speared from her clit to her chest, burning a straight path of fire through her body, a moan slipping from her lips.
“What,” Theodore grated, “the fuck.”
Kilian moved the towel to her hips and stomach like nothing had happened.
“Bra,” he muttered quietly. “It’s already torn.”
Theodore’s hand flashed up so quickly she didn’t even feel his touch against her chest. One minute, her breasts were contained by the tied-together lace, the next, the garment was ripped clean off her body.
“Fucking hell,” Kilian swore. “You good?”
Theodore was still behind her, stiff as a statue, his breathing ragged. He didn’t answer, and Isobel was too drunk on all their touches to care about who Kilian was talking to. She turned in Theodore’s arms, whining as she clutched his neck.
“Tired of standing,” she complained, tugging on his shoulders.
Theodore was big and strong and warm. She should just make him pick her up so she could go to sleep.
“Fuck. The shirt,” Theodore grunted.
A second later, a shirt was being dragged over her head, and then Theodore was gathering her up.
7
Mikel Is Just An Innocent Bystander
Mikel paced across the polished floorboards, agitation rushing through his veins as he listened to the shower turning off in the other room. He eyed Oscar, who was reclined on Theodore’s bed, his arm bent up over his eyes like he didn’t even want to be there.
“You really don’t need to chaperone,” Oscar murmured, his gravelly voice amused. “I’ve slept with her before.”
“Kilian said she’s acting drugged.” Mikel fought to keep his voice even, knowing perfectly well that his words were about to get a reaction.
Oscar lowered his arm, dark eyes flashing. “And you think I’d take advantage of that?”
“No.” Mikel stopped pacing, giving him an exasperated look. “But I can’t have you breaking fingers or threatening to cut off limbs if she does something stupid with someone else. Not within the group. You know the group is off limits.”
“Bah.” Oscar covered his eyes again. “I’ll be a good boy. You can go.”
“I’m here to check on her.”
The arm lowered again, just a little. “Why?”
“Same reason you demanded to sleep with her tonight.” Mikel folded his arms, his muscles twitching, his entire body vibrating with the need to do something. “Because of—”
“Don’t speak the dead girl’s name,” Oscar rushed out on a snarl, half-rising from the bed before deliberately, and slowly, laying back down again, and forcing his arm back up over his eyes.
The door to the bathroom opened and Kilian stepped out. This time, Theodore was behind him, the Sigma wrapped up in his arms. She was dwarfed by an oversized T-shirt, her head pushed into Theodore’s neck, her eyes closed.
Kilian put a finger to his lips, and Mikel watched, a little shocked, as Theodore laid the sleeping girl down in the middle of the bed. She whimpered, but Oscar shifted to his side, drawing her into the curve of his body, and she settled back down immediately, brushing her nose against his arm.
It was the first time Mikel had seen Oscar hug anybody other than his sister—and even then, it was more like he endured his sister’s hugs more than he initiated them.
Oscar would kill for his sister.
What the hell was this supposed to mean?
Kilian, who had already borrowed a pair of Theodore’s sweatpants, slipped into the bed on Isobel’s other side.