Page 166 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

He grins, unrepentant. “Why? It’s cute. Fun. Descriptive.”

“I’m making an executive decision,” I announce, holding up a finger. “The wordblowiesis never to be uttered aloud again. Ever.”

Walking just ahead, Hank glances over his shoulder, one brow raised in amusement. “You’re not in charge.”

I narrow my eyes.

His smirk deepens. “Blowies stay.”

I blink. “So it’snot a democracy?”

Gabe snorts. “Not even close.”

Hank smirks, eyes dark. “It’s a benevolent dictatorship—andblowiesstay.” He grabs my hand, pulling me to his side, where he drapes his arm over my shoulder, locking me in.

I huff. “Benevolent my ass.”

Gabe throws his head back, laughter peeling into the open air like sunlight—warm, easy, unguarded. “God, I love this,” he says between chuckles, wiping at his eyes. “This is what we were missing all those years—morning debates over oral etiquette.”

Hank just grins, his arm heavy and secure around my shoulders as we walk. “Some men go to war for less.”

I can’t help it—I laugh, too. The sound bubbles up, bright and free, chased by the salty breeze of the ocean and the steady rhythm of their footsteps beside mine. For a moment, everything is light.

Effortless.

Easy.

We might not agree onblowies.

But this?

This is everything.

Something expands in my chest, different from the lust that usually fills it when I’m with them. This is deeper and more dangerous. It’s one thing to surrender my body, to arch beneath their hands, to cry out as they claim me between them.

Physical vulnerability, I understand.

I’ve mastered the art of giving my body while keeping my heart safely locked away.

But this?

This vulnerability cuts to the bone.

The surf crashes against the cliffs below, echoing the collision happening within me.

These aren’t just bodies I’ve been exploring, vessels for pleasure and escape. These are men with histories etched in blood and failure, with nightmares that mirror my own.

My fingers tighten around Hank’s hand, a lifeline as realization washes over me. What began as an indulgence—a fantasy of beingconsumed by two dangerous men—has evolved into something I never anticipated.

Something with roots that threatens to tangle around my guarded heart.

I swallow hard, fighting the instinct to run—to retreat to the safety of physical desire without emotional complication. It would be easier to distract us all with the familiar dance of skin against skin. To keep us in the territory where the only thing exposed is flesh and not the soul.

But it’s too late.

That boundary has been crossed.

We don’t say anything for a while after that.

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