Page 113 of Ruthless Beasts

"Taking you shopping." Ace appeared, a smile plastered on his face. "You're looking fucking gorgeous today, Belle. Maybe we should skip shopping."

The carton fell to the ground. My squeals filled the kitchen. My body hummed with excitement as I rushed to Adam, throwing my arms around him. "Are you serious? Tell me Ace is serious!"

His arm came around me, his lips tilting up so subtly that if I wasn't watching him, I'd miss it. "I'm serious. The timing isn't ideal, as I'm sure you know, but I really wanted to take you shopping, as I promised, before the baby comes, and looking at you this past week only confirmed we're losing time."

I pulled back, my hand resting on my stomach. "I've gotten too fat."

"Fat?" Ace grabbed my hand and lifted it up before spinning me. "I don't see any fat on you. Besides, even if you did, haven’t we told you we like our women thick?"

I knew he was only trying to make me feel better, but I couldn't stop the smile that spread. "Are you coming with me, too?"

"Yep." Ace popped the p of his response as he leaned against the island. "You think we'd let you go alone?"

"I think even with you two, I'll have Max and Drew and probably four more, just to be safe."

"Eight," Adam replied, and when my eyes grew wide, he added, "But don't worry, they won't bother you. You won't know they're there."

He could say that with all the confidence he wanted, but now I knew they existed, I'd be looking for them. "Eight’s obsessive."

"He wanted fifteen," Mercer added as he pushed a plate of pancakes toward me. "Eat up, princess. Our girls need their fuel."

"I'm too excited to eat," I announced because damn, it had been months since I'd been shopping. Sure, I'd gone to their office a few times, and met Mimi, but anything so free as shopping was always out of the question. Apparently, men like them had enemies, and until the enemies were gone, they couldn't risk it. But I doubted their enemies just waited around for them to take their pregnant wife out for an ice cream cone and a stroll around the mall just so they could attack. Then again, maybe I was being selfish because I doubted, until Adam's wife was killed, he would ever have considered that to be a possibility.

"You will eat," all three of them said in unison. But it was Ace who added, "The stores aren't even open until ten."

I picked up a pancake, rolled it around a sausage, and took a bite. They all watched me, but it was Adam who judged, "No plate."

"Plates mean dishes, and doing dishes means time, and I want to leave."

Mercer handed me a plate over the countertop. "I'll do the dishes. And you're not even dressed to leave the house, little girl. You think we'd let you go shopping in a shirt that barely covers your ass?"

"Well, no. But..."

"Eat your food, slowly. I'm not Heimliching a sausage out of your throat. Then get dressed." Adam walked toward the coffee pot.

"Didn't seem to mind any sort of Heimliching last night when I was coaching her through swallowing your massive c?—"

"Mercer," Adam barked, but it was too late. My skin already burned at the memory, and my thighs were already squeezing together with the unquenched need.

"What?" Mercer smirked. "It happened."

"Except now look at her." Three sets of eyes looked at me, my body already flush with desire. "You know she's insatiable."

"Excuse me." It was true. But I would not let them say that. "Maybe you three are just old and can't keep up."

"Old?" Ace laughed. "Honey, we may have a good ten years on you, but we can keep up just fine."

"Really? You're looking a little tired, old man."

"Call me old man one more time, and I'll show you how tired I can be."

"Old. Man." His eyes burned as he stalked toward me, but I didn't retract my statement. I wanted it, wanted all they could offer me any way they could offer it. "What's wrong, old man? Can't handle the truth?"

Adam groaned. "We never can do things in a timely manner in this house."

"You said the stores open at ten," I pointed out.

"I only need fifteen," Ace groaned as his hand cupped the junction of my thigh, the material already wet from wanting them. "Twenty tops."

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