Page 50 of Vanish Into Light

Her eyes burned behind closed lids.I’m sorry, she thought.Oh, Lance, I’m sorry, you deserved better. Fisted his shirt and opened wide for the press of his tongue; allowed herself the hot and cold chills, the tension winding in her belly. The want – she let herself want him, maybe for the first time, without it being a desperate, guilty thing.

A hand landed on her stomach, and urged her gently back – Beck guiding her deeper into the room, catching at her shoulder when she tripped on her own feet, because she wouldn’t break away from Lance. She gripped his shirt in both hands and dragged him along; it was an awkward, shuffling gait, but they managed, his lips slanting hot and wet over hers, until she heard the door click shut. Heard the lock turn.

Then Beck was at her back again, heat of his naked skin seeping through her robe, hands chasing at the gooseflesh that had broken out on her arms.

She pulled back, gasping for air, chest heaving – and then was pressed in tight between them, as Beck leaned forward over her shoulder, got a grip on Lance’s hair, and dragged his mouth to his own.

Last night, when Beck returned to their bed, and lay a sleeping Lance between them, he’d told her what he’d – what they’d – done. Had said that he thought he had to be the one to bridge the gap; that Lance had to come to grips with wanting him, first, before things could go farther. She’d imagined – oh, had she imagined – but she’d not seen them together. Not like now.

Lance’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a quick, harsh breath through his nose. His eyes flew wide – and then fluttered shut. Rose got to watch the tension bleed out of him in one beautiful rush; got to wash him lean forward, chasing the flick of Beck’s tongue, jaw cracking wide and neck softening in submission as Beck tipped his head the way he wanted it, and licked into his mouth.

She’d never seen Beck kiss anyone; she waited for the spike of jealousy, but it never came, because Beck was beautiful, and so was Lance, and they were both hers, their heartbeats throbbing against her back, her chest, Lance’s wild and lurching, Beck’s steady and purposeful.

Beck withdrew first, and Lance’s eyes slowly fluttered open, his pupils blown, his face slack, lips parted, wet and swollen from kissing.

Rose’s hands tightened in Lance’s shirt; she was stretching it, but figured he didn’t care, not the way he was looking at Beck…and then at her, as Beck’s hands landed on her shoulders. Beck was purring, a low, constant rumble that vibrated through his chest and into her. She squeezed her thighs together in helpless reaction, and felt the wetness already gathering there, at their apex.

She was already unraveling, and they’d only kissed. God.

Beck’s hands slid forward, and down, tracing the wide lapels of her robe, the faint rasp of skin on velvet seemingly loud in the quiet between them. Lance’s gaze tracked the movement; followed the slow, deliberate pass of Beck’s hands down to the tie of her robe; his pupils expanded another fraction, until his irises looked black, as Beck pulled the simple knot loose, and then let the halves of the robe fall open.

Her skin was flushed beneath, her nipples already pebbled. When Beck found one of Lance’s hands, and drew it to her stomach, she sucked in a little gasp, muscle and skin leaping beneath his touch.

Beck’s other hand cupped her breast; lifted it, as if in offering. “Well?” he prompted. “Isn’t she lovely?”

“Yes,” Lance breathed. He seemed to come alive, then; gripped her waist with both hands and drew her in close so he could kiss her again.

For all the urgency in his heart, beating wild beneath her hand, the kiss was unhurried. Slow, thorough – melting. She pulled at his shirt again, as she gave herself up to the bold press of his tongue against hers – and didn’t want the shirt at all. She wanted skin. All his warm, smooth skin, and the dense layers of muscle beneath.

She slipped her hands beneath the hem of his shirt; pushed it up and felt his abs jump beneath her touch; raked her nails through his treasure trail and heard – and felt – his breath hitch on the next kiss, his lips pressing hard, teeth briefly sharp at her lower lip. His hands tightened on her waist, and he was trembling, faintly, with how much he wanted her.

And then Beck drew the robe down, so it was caught hanging at her elbows, and she had to let go of Lance to let it fall; to let Beck crowd in close, his chest smooth and heated where it pressed to her; he was hard, and she could feel the firm press of his cock against the small of her back.

Lance’s hands slid up her ribs and cupped her breasts, squeezed in the way he knew she liked.

And Beck’s hands smoothed over her hips, and down low on her belly, skimming just above the place where she wanted them.

It was – it was a lot.

She knew their hands, all their calluses and scars; knew the shape and the heft and the force of them, individually – but to have them both touching her like this, together, to feel the heat and the power of them both, before and behind her at the same time…that was so wholly new, and wholly exciting that she was dizzy with it, suddenly. With the idea that this was happening, that they were all together; that they wanted her, and each other, and it was just so…so…

Lance broke away from her mouth, and his damp lips skimmed across her cheek, and down to her jaw, sucking little kisses there, his breath hot on her skin, before he shifted down to kiss her throat.

Beck’s hands slid up a moment, and covered Lance’s on her breasts, encouraged him to squeeze just that bit harder. “Breathe, baby,” he murmured in her ear. “You have to breathe.”

She tipped her head back onto his shoulder, and drew in a breath that didn’t feel at all sufficient, her lungs burning.

Lance’s lips traveled over her collarbone, down the slope of her breast, and Beck framed her nipple with careful claws before Lance tongued it, and drew it into his mouth.

“Oh,” she couldn’t help but murmur. Her hands felt unwieldly as she buried them in Lance’s short hair and gripped tight, holding him to her.

He sucked at her, and each tug of his lips sent fresh darts of pleasure through her. Her sex pulsed, and she could feel the slickness gathering there. When Beck dipped low, and dragged a finger along her folds, she gasped, and chased the touch – but he retreated.

“Please.” She wasn’t above begging.

He pressed a chuckle into the side of her neck, and his hand joined hers in Lance’s hair, lean fingers flexing as he pressed on Lance’s skull. “Down, boy. You know what she wants.”

Lance’s gaze lifted, a fast flicker, as he sank to his knees, and his expression was almost worshipful – knocked the breath from her – before his lashes lowered, and he leaned in, and put his mouth on her.

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