Page 127 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

Every word. Every glance. Every touch.

It’s all a reminder—my new normal is this.

Sexuality laced into everything.

Promises wrapped in the simplest of words.

I swallow, trying for something resembling composure, but Gabe’s eyes track the movement, his smirk deepening like he knows exactly what’s going through my head.

“Better take that moment while you can, sweetheart,” hemurmurs, heading into the kitchen. “You’re going to be busy tonight.”

And then they’re gone, leaving me standing there, my entire body humming with awareness.

I exhale, pressing my hands to my thighs, willing my pulse to calm down.

But it doesn’t.

There’s no coming down from this.

I linger for a moment, taking in the quiet hum of the house, the vast, open space of the living room, the way the walls of glass frame the restless waves beyond.

Rest if you need it. Decompress. Let yourself settle. Because after dinner… you’re ours.

Heat pools low in my stomach.

A moment to myself should be nice. Needed, even. But all I can think about is them—their hands on me, their mouths devouring me, their plans for tonight.

If they want me ready for them, I’ll be ready.

I head for the bathroom, stripping my clothes before the water starts. Steam curls around me as I step into the shower, the heat washing away the remnants of the day.

I take my time.

Shaving slow, careful strokes over my legs, over my thighs, leaving my skin silken-smooth.

Running my fingers over my body, knowing that soon, it won’t be my hands exploring me—it will be theirs.

I linger under the water longer than necessary, letting it soothe and awaken me simultaneously. When I finally step out, wrapping myself in a towel, my skin is flushed and humming with awareness.

I glance toward the bedroom, toward the dresser, toward Hank’s clothes.

A slow smile curls my lips.

Moments later, I pull one of Hank’s shirts over my head. I roll the sleeves up slightly, the hem brushing the tops of my thighs, covering just enoughto tease.

No bra.

No panties.

Just bare. Theirs for the taking.

I run my fingers through my damp hair, glancing at my reflection.

Not made-up. Not dolled-up.

Just ready.

A cool breeze drifts in through the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of salt and sea.

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