Page 7 of Secret Baby for the Triplets

I laugh, nodding toward the hotel. “Staff makes rounds constantly. We should get back before my brothers end up getting questioned by security.”

My thumb brushes her swollen lower lip. “But our suite has a jacuzzi on the balcony. Plenty of space—and time.”

She reluctantly fastens her pants, though that spark of interest glows brightly in her eyes. “Yeah?” Her voice drops, sultry. “With all of you?”

One brow arches. “Would you like that?”

She bites her lip, color blooming across her cheeks. “Would you guys?”

“Fuck yes, we would.”

It won’t be the first time we’ve shared a woman, but we’ve never shared one like this. So bold. So fucking perfect.

Whoever the hell she really is.

CHAPTER2

Emerson

I’m sure I’m going to have a heart attack. It’s not a panic attack. I’ve had those before. Those are scary and confusing. This is exciting. Intoxicating.

Well, maybe it’s the endless mimosas, tequila, and beer that accounts for the last part, but the triplets certainly fuel the headiness coursing through my veins over the past six hours.

It’s been nonstop adrenaline from the casino, to the club, to the VIP section at the pool and Brock’s magical tongue, and now…

“Wow!”

I stare at the incredible suite in awe, hardly sure where to set my eyes. I assumed the men were well off enough, judging by their clothes and hotel choice, but I never would have imagined the two-floor suite with the baby grand piano and fireplaces. A part of me wonders if I'm more drunk than I realize, if I'm not caught up in some drunken dream, and not really imagining all this. But I can still feel the tingle of Brock's fingers inside me. I hadn’t imagined that. And I’m not imagining the way they’re looking at me now, like they want to eat me alive where I stand.

What kind of ranch do these guys have to afford all this?

I put the question out of my mind. I don’t care. It doesn’t matter because I’m never going to see them again—especially not if I go through with this.

“Let’s get you a drink,” the boisterous triplet offers. Tony. No, Toby.

He’s all charm and easy laughter, tossing out quick jokes while sneaking glances my way. Each sidelong look sends a pulse of heat through me.

Across the room, Owen sinks into the leather sofa, silent but watchful, his eyes fixed on me like he’s reading every thought I’m trying to hide.

Their desire is clear—written in every look, every breath—but no one reaches for me. No pressure. No rush.

They’re waiting for me to decide.

“Mind if I sit?” I ask.

Owen smiles. “Not in the least.”

My pulse kicks up again. That breathless, chest-tightening rush floods back the second his hand lands on my knee.

Toby hands me a beer, and I wonder if maybe I’ve had too much already. But I don’t feel out of control. If anything, I feel more in control than I’ve ever been in my life. They don’t unnerve me, even though they’re bigger and stronger—and total strangers.

What got into me tonight? I can’t blame the alcohol. I can’t even call it the Vegas effect. I’ve been here before with more exciting people than my cousin and her idiot friends, and nothing like this has ever transpired.

Belle is the only explanation that makes sense. Her and her pretentious friends with their usual over-the-top bullshit and all this wedding circus nonsense. I hadn’t even wanted to come for my cousin, but if I had to shell out for this trip, then hell—I’m damn well going to enjoy myself.

Pale morning light creeps in over the horizon, but even after an all-nighter, no one’s thinking about sleep.

Owen’s fingers massage my thigh.

---