Page 82 of Baby for the Bikers

My father’s threats still loom in the back of my mind. Danger hasn’t disappeared just because I’ve found something worthstaying for. But for the first time since I fled San Francisco, I don’t feel alone.

I have them now. All of them.

34

ROWAN

“This is goingto hurt like a motherfucker,” Evie warns, grinning at me from the plush chair beside mine. “But trust me, when all three of them see how smooth you are down there, the pain will be worth it.”

I shoot her a nervous glance, already reconsidering this whole spa day idea. When Brick suggested I “take some time for myself” before tonight, I hadn’t expected him to arrange a full day of pampering at Wolf Pike’s newest luxury spa—Cross Relaxation, owned by Evie’s three husbands. And I definitely hadn’t expected to be joined by Evie herself—and Ayla, the other woman in town with three partners.

“She’s right,” Ayla confirms, flipping through a magazine while her toenails dry. “First time Teller saw me after a full Brazilian, I swear he almost had a heart attack. Clay couldn’t even form sentences.”

“And Kip?” I can’t help asking.

Ayla’s smile turns wicked. “Let’s just say he showed his appreciation extensively. With his tongue.”

Heat floods my face. I’ve only met these women a few times at the diner and racetracks, and here they are, casually discussing their sex lives like we’re old friends. But there’s something comforting in their easy acceptance of my unusual situation. In Wolf Pike, apparently, having three men is practically normal—Tom warned me of this weeks ago.

“I still can’t believe this is happening,” I admit, accepting the champagne flute the attendant offers. “A month ago, I was searching for a fresh start, and now I’m getting waxed for a night with three brothers.”

“Wolf Pike has a way of giving people what they didn’t know they needed,” Evie says sagely. Then she cackles. “And in your case, that’s three cocks instead of one!”

I nearly choke on my champagne.

“Dammit, Evie,” Ayla scolds, but she’s laughing too. “Let the poor girl breathe before you kill her.”

“Oh please.” Evie waves a hand dismissively. “If she can’t handle talking about it, how will she handle taking all three of them?”

Another wave of heat—half embarrassment, half anticipation—washes over me. “Is that even…I mean, can you actually…?”

The two women exchange knowing looks.

“Depends,” Ayla says carefully. “There are ways. If you’re comfortable.”

“First time, probably not all at once,” Evie adds matter-of-factly. “But there are plenty of combinations that work beautifully.”

Before I can ask for clarification, a spa attendant appears at the doorway. “Ms. Callahan? We’re ready for your waxing.”

I drain my champagne in one gulp. “Wish me luck.”

“Remember,” Evie calls after me, “beauty is pain, but multiple orgasms are forever!”

The waxing room is warm and dimly lit, with soothing music that does absolutely nothing to calm my nerves. The technician, a woman named Maya with more tattoos than bare skin, instructs me to undress from the waist down and lie on the table.

“First Brazilian?” she asks, noting my hesitation.

“That obvious?”

She smiles kindly. “Don’t worry. I’ll talk you through it.”

What follows is thirty minutes of the most excruciating yet oddly empowering experience of my life. Maya chatters about town gossip, occasionally instructing me to “breathe” or “relax” before ripping another strip of molten lava from the most sensitive parts of my body.

“Motherfucking son of a—” I gasp after a particularly painful pull.

“That’s the spirit,” Maya laughs. “Get it all out now. Because trust me, from what I hear about those Kane brothers, you’ll be doing a different kind of screaming tonight.”

I prop myself up on my elbows. “Does everyone in this town know about my personal life?”

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