Page 139 of Seek Me Darling

I blink and glance between them.

They’re serious.

“You’re actually giving me a choice?”

Matteo smirks. “Within reason.”

“No serial killers,” Bodhi adds. “You get weirdly into those.”

I lift a brow. “You two kidnapped me and staged an obsessive infiltration that took literal years. And you thinkI’mthe weird one?”

Bodhi raises both hands. “Hey, I didn’t say we weren’t weird. I said we have limits.”

I scroll through the options. For a second, I consider picking something soft. Something gentle. But no. That’s not where I am.

“Put on something violent,” I say. “Explosions. Gunfights. Broken noses. Catharsis.”

They don’t argue. Just queue up a gritty action thriller with a woman covered in blood on the cover. Perfect.

As it starts, I dig into the food. It’s good. Too good.

Of course it is. The pasta is perfectly cooked—rich, creamy, edged with heat and garlic and some kind of smoky spice that makes my tongue curl.

Everything they do is too good.

Toomuch.

I drink the coffee. I let my legs stretch out, draping over Matteo’s lap. He adjusts slightly to accommodate me, hands warm as they rest loosely on my calves. His thumbs sweep once—soft, absent-minded—over a bruise he left.

Bodhi’s arm is stretched across the couch behind me. Not quite touching, but close enough that every breath pulls me deeper into the heat of his body. I can feel the occasional twitch of his muscles as he laughs at the screen or adjusts his position, like he’s reminding me he’s there without actually crowding me.

They’re not pressing.

But they’re not backing off, either.

They’resurrounding.

And God help me, part of me likes it.

The movie pours violence across the screen, blood spatter and grit and gunmetal carnage that somehow calms the roar in my bones.

I should pull away from them.

Should draw the line back where it was—back where I thought I could keep them in their boxes. Rule. Ruin. Matteo. Bodhi. Stalker. Liar. Friend. Threat.

But right now?

Right now, I’m still aching. I’m still bleeding in ways that aren’t visible.

And there’s something about beinghere, between them, caught in the gravity of two men who fought to break me just to prove I belonged to them—something about it that lets me breathe.

They didn’t win me. Not yet.

But they havethis.

This moment. This night.

They have the bruises on my skin, the taste of my surrender still clinging to us, the ache they left between my legs that somehow feels like more than just sex.

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