Page 97 of Reckless Hearts

The DJ cranks the volume, and the whole place shifts. Dance music kicks in louder, messier, a little dirtier. Less line dancing, more grinding. A low, rhythmic thump that goes straight to the base of my spine.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Colt mutters, and his mouth is at my ear, his breath skating across my neck. A shiver rolls through me, and I don’t even try to hide it.

I laugh and let my hips start to move, my hands lifted in a rhythm that could only be called drunk white girl chaos. Colt keeps pace with me, close but not pressing, and I let myself feel it. The heat of the crowd, the scrape of denim, the pulse of music humming through my blood like a second heartbeat.

I spin.

Colt’s there to catch me again, hands sliding down to my hips.

My body’s buzzing, my thoughts a slow molasses drip.

And I know Maverick’s still watching.

I can feel it.

That low hum beneath my skin? That’s him. That tension stringing tighter with every second he stands off to the side.

I shoot him a coy smile over my shoulder because if he refuses to dance, that’s on him. But he’s the one missing out.

Colt draws me back in, his hands stroking absentmindedly across my waist, through the thin cotton of my shirt. I let my forehead drop to his chest, soaking in the solid press of him, his heartbeat thumping against my cheek like a war drum.

Then Colt stills.

Just for a second before I feel the new heat at my back.

A hard chest presses against me. The scent of pine and leather surrounds me.Maverick.

“Fuck,” Colt breathes.

“Fuck,” Maverick echoes, voice lower, rougher.

I don’t move.

Can’t.

Colt’s hands flex at my waist. His pinkies brush the curve of my ass, and it punches the breath from my lungs. Behind me, Maverick grips my hips.

The three of us lock into place like we’ve always belonged this way. I’m not just standing between them. I’m cradled. Supported. Surrounded.

I try to shift for balance, but there’s nowhere to go. Colt’s chest to my front, Maverick’s thighs framing mine from behind. I’m caught, suspended in heat and muscle and want.

My fingers curl into Colt’s shirt. One hand drops to Maverick’s thigh, splayed wide across the muscle. He’s so solid it makes me ache.

Maverick lets out a hum that vibrates through my whole spine. I feel it in my teeth. My hips shift forward on instinct.

Colt groans, and suddenly, his hands are tightening again, grounding me as I rock between them. The air crackles. My skin buzzes. The crowd blurs and vanishes.

Maverick leans forward, lifting the hair off the back of my neck and blowing a soft stream of air there. I jolt like I’ve been touched with fire. My legs squeeze together instinctively, chasing friction, but Colt’s thigh slips between mine, holding me open.

My breath stutters. A whine escapes before I can stop it.

Colt’s mouth finds my ear. “Fucking adorable.”

Chapter 32

Callie

Maverick’s mouthis at my neck, breath hot, chest flush against my back as Colt fumbles with the motel key like his hands forgot how to work. The second the door unlocks and clicks shut behind us, Colt turns on a dime.

---