Page 170 of Rescuing Ally: Part 1

“I get it.” I place a hand on their chests, feeling their heartbeats beneath my palms. “I won’t ditch my security like I did with my father. I can promise you that much.”

“Good.” Hank lifts our joined hands, brushing my knuckles with his lips. “We worry because we give a damn.”

“The question isn’t if your ambitions can coexist with us,” Gabe murmurs, “it’s whether we can build something that honors all of who you are—including the parts beyond us.”

My breath catches.

“I want that.” My voice is barely there. “I want all of it.”

Relief floods through me, washing away the tension that’s been building since we started this conversation.

For the first time since my kidnapping at Cornell, and the second time with Malfor, I feel like I can breathe. Not just exist in a cage—gilded or otherwise—but truly live.

But there’s something else beneath the relief. Something unexpected.

The way they’re looking at me—Hank with that fierce protectiveness, Gabe with his mix of playfulness and intensity—ignites something primal inside me. Their concern and determination to keep me safe while respecting my independence shouldn’t be sexy, but God help me, it is.

I exhale, heat prickling beneath my skin, desire curling low in my belly. The protectiveness I’d feared would feel suffocating now feels like something else entirely. Something that makes my pulse quicken for entirelydifferent reasons.

All that talk of possession, of protection, of being theirs—my body’s response is undeniable, electric, overwhelming.

“You certainly know how to make a girl swoon.” My voice is deliberately light despite the buzzing sensation building between my thighs.

I wet my lips, shifting under the weight of their gazes—intense, focused, hungry. The emotional intimacy we’ve just shared has opened something raw and needy in me, a craving for physical connection to match the vulnerability we’ve just navigated together.

“Do we have to do brunch?” I tilt my head, giving them both a look—half challenge, half plea. “Because that whole conversation got me…”

I step between them, pressing closer, my body brushing the heat of theirs. My fingers start at Hank’s chest, barely grazing the firm muscle beneath his shirt—a teasing caress, nothing more. I let them walk—slow, deliberate—down the ridges of his abdomen, my nails scraping lightly over each defined plane, feeling how his breath hitches under my touch.

But I don’t stop there.

My other hand mirrors the path on Gabe, fingertips gliding over the fabric stretched tight across his broad chest. A leisurely descent, dragging my nails down until I reach the hard wall of his stomach, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath my palm. The tension coils in both of them, winding tighter with every inch I travel.

My hands reach their waistbands at the same time.

I pause.

Look up at them through my lashes, waiting, watching their restraint slip.

Then—lower.

My fingers dip beneath belts, skimming the hard ridges of their lower abs, tracing the lines that disappear beneath their jeans. I press my palms down and cup them through the fabric, feeling the heat, the hardness, the reaction I wanted.

Their heartbeats thunder beneath my hands, chests rising, muscles flexing.

I wet my lips. Hold their eyes.

“I need both of you. Now.”

A sharp breath from Gabe. Hank’s jaw tightens.

Gabe’s laughter erupts—rich, deep, and unexpectedly free. His head tilts back, exposing the strong column of his throat, and his eyes crinkle at the corners. The sound breaks the tension like a thunderclap clearing heavy air.

Hank chokes on a surprised inhale, his composed demeanor cracking wide open. A flush crawls up his neck as he clears his throat, but he fails to hide the grin spreading across his usually controlled features.

“Jesus, woman,” Gabe manages between bursts of laughter, dragging a hand down his face. His eyes have darkened, pupils dilated despite his amusement. “You cut right through all the bullshit, don’t you?”

Hank recovers enough to shake his head, but his smile remains unguarded, almost boyish in genuine delight. “And here I was, worried about sounding too intense.” His voice carries a hint of gravel as he steps closer, heat radiating from him.

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