Page 11 of Guilty as Sin

"Karl," she moans, reaching for my hand. Her fingers intertwine with mine as Rolf's rhythm intensifies, and I squeeze back, overcome with tenderness.

"I'm here, sweetheart," I whisper, leaning down to kiss her forehead, tasting the salt of her perspiration.

Rolf and I exchange a look over her body. There's no jealousy, only an understanding that this is precisely where we're meant to be.

When Zoe's back arches and she cries out, clutching my hand so tightly her knuckles whiten, I feel her pleasure as if it were my own. Rolf follows moments later, his face a portrait of a vulnerable surrender I've rarely seen from my typically controlled brother.

I stretch out beside Zoe as they catch their breath, pulling her against my chest. Rolf settles on her other side, his hand resting on the curve of her hip. We lie tangled together, the boundaries between us beautifully blurred.

"I never imagined…" Zoe begins, her voice trembling.

"Neither did we," I admit, pressing my lips to her shoulder.

Later, with Zoe nestled between us in my king-sized bed, her breathing soft and even in sleep.

"This isn't just sex anymore," Rolf says quietly, putting voice to my thoughts.

I nod, my fingers tracing the curve of Zoe's shoulder. "I know. For either of us."

"Are we ready for what that means?"

It's a loaded question. We've shared women before, but never like this.

The connection between us transcends the physical. With every thrust, every touch, we're forging something new—something that belongs to the three of us alone. Society might not understand, but as our pleasure builds to an inevitable crescendo, I know with absolute certainty that this is right.

This is just the beginning of what we can be together.

CHAPTER 9

ZOE

Iblink awake slowly, disoriented by unfamiliar surroundings. Sunlight filters through half-drawn curtains, casting golden patterns across an enormous bed I don't recognize. A warm weight presses against both sides of my body, and as consciousness fully returns, my breath catches in my throat.

Oh. My. God.

Memories flood back in a torrent of images. Karl's mouth on mine. Rolf's hands exploring my body. Both of them taking turns, then both at once. The sounds I made—sounds I didn't know I could make.

I'm sandwiched between two magnificent male bodies, both completely naked. Karl's arm drapes possessively across my waist while Rolf's leg is thrown over mine, his face buried in my hair. The sheets barely cover any of us, and the evidence of our night together is everywhere—on my skin, between my thighs, in the delicious soreness that reminds me exactly what I've done.

What have I done?

I had sex with brothers. Brothers! The Becker brothers. My first big clients. The thought sends a wave of mortification through me, so powerful I nearly gasp aloud. What kind of woman does that make me? What would my mother say? Myperfectly proper, socially conscious mother, who raised me to be a respectable young lady, would die of shame.

Yet even as embarrassment floods me, my body remembers. It remembers how it felt to be worshipped by four hands and two mouths, to be the center of attention for two of the most powerful, attractive men I've ever met. They looked at me like I was a goddess and seemed to know exactly what I needed before I did.

I need to leave. Now. Before they wake up, and see the regret that must be written all over my face.

Carefully, I begin extracting myself from between them, lifting Karl's arm slowly. I've almost reached freedom when his fingers tighten around my wrist.

"Where do you think you're going?" His voice is rough with sleep but unmistakably amused.

"I need to go," I whisper, attempting to extricate myself from their tangled limbs. "This was—I don't normally?—"

"Run away, you mean?" Rolf's eyes open, startlingly alert for someone who just woke up. His gaze pins me in place as effectively as his body. "That would be disappointing."

I clutch the sheet to my chest, suddenly aware of my nakedness. "This isn't me. I don't sleep with two men. Especially not brothers. I have a reputation, a career?—"

"A career you're brilliant at," Karl interrupts, propping himself on one elbow. His dark hair is adorably mussed, but his eyes are intense. "And a life you're entitled to enjoy however you choose."

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