Page 151 of Seizing Control: Part Two

“Warnin’ you one last time, girlfriend.” My best friend gestures for Gabbi to lead the way out of my bedroom. “You needa toughen up and lay down some ground rules—” The look she gives the two men sharing my bed is filled with disdain. “—or they’ll eat you alive without a second thought.” Worry clouds her gaze for a moment, then it’s replaced with a lethal promise that’s at odds with the gentleness she uses to soothe my son. “I dunno if we’ll manage to patch you up again if they fuck up again, but I do know that I’ll light the match that turns them into a marshmallow corpse fire myself.”

Her threat hangs in the air after she leaves.

“You need to leave.”

My declaration is met with silence.

Steeling myself, I try again. “Get out.”

The arm around my midsection tightens.

The hand gripping my thigh flexes.

“Fucking hell,” I infuse every ounce of frustration I’m feeling into those two words. Pulling the covers down, I grab my engorged chest and jiggle it to make my point. “My boobs are about to burst. I need to pump, and I need to shower. My plans are to take my son on a walk, tuck my drunk friends into bed, then spend the rest of the day with the twins at the hospital. You’re welcome at the NICU, but I’d really like that space and time I was promised now.”

“No deal,” Slash drawls.

“Agreed.” My first love reaches around me to fist bump my husband.

“You two are impossible.”

They chuckle.

It’s the final straw.

My temper snaps.

Huffing like an enraged dragon, I jam my fingers underneath Lazarus’ jaw, cruelly engaging the pressure point until he gets the message and lets me go. When Slash doesn’t heed the warning and remove his hand from my leg, I employ the same method on him. The two men hold their hands up, surrendering long enough for me to climb out of bed.

The moment my feet hit the ground, they spring into action.

Lazarus sets up the breast pump with meticulous expertise.

“I’m gonna feed Garrett,” my husband tells me once he’s pulled on a pair of grey sweatpants. He brushes his lips over the top of my head. “Will be back to help you change your bandage.”

“No. That’s—” Slash closes the door behind him, effectively cutting off my protest. Kneeling in front of me, the tattooed man who’s still clad in nothing but tight boxer-briefs pulls my t-shirt off. The moment my head is free, I try to object, “I don’t need your help?—”

The crazy man silences me with a kiss.

I freeze.

He uses my hesitation to his advantage, and devours my mouth, touching his tongue to mine once he’s coaxed my lips apart. Hands roaming, Lazarus explores my bare skin with expert precision. The knowledge he has of my body is incredible. A caress here. A touch there. The bite of his fingers as he cups my nape. A soft squeeze of my breast before he flicks open the detachable nursing clip to reveal my breast.

“Fucking perfection.” His hungry gaze rakes my exposed flesh. “This wait is gonna be the death of me, sweet thing.”

“I don’t care.” Panting hard, I shove at his shoulders. “We need to take things slowly.”

As if on cue, Lazarus’ phone pings, promising a sorely needed reprieve from the ferocity of his passionate declarations. He tightens his grip on the back of my neck, then the device makes another ding. There is obvious reluctance in his posture as he steps away from me. I pretend that the space between us doesn’t affect me, concentrating on latching the portable breast pump properly instead of tracking his movements.

I’d be lying if I said that disappointment didn’t flood me when he scoops his clothing from the top of the rocking chair I’m sitting in and starts to dress. Tattooed, tough, and terrifying, I am the only person on the planet who knows how soft he is at the centre, despite the powerful body currently on display. Provided with a one-man, reverse, strip show, I act like I’m impervious to his physique, even as he covers it up. The rippling muscles that Lazarus possesses are different to Slash’s—he’s wider and stockier where my husband is leaner and more athletically defined. Watching him secure the blade to his calf reminds me that the lethality he projects isn’t a mirage.

My man can back it up without blinking.

I press my thighs together when my clit throbs.

Shame crashes through me in the wake of my reaction to my first love.

I shouldn’t feel like this.

---