Page 38 of Beautiful Scars: Unshakeable

"Don't do that. Don't go away," he murmurs, his voice rough, edged with quiet command. "Eyes on me. Stay with me."

His gaze locks onto mine—anchoring me to him, to the now.

The basement fades. The phantom hands loosen their grip.

With every breath, every gentle word, I find my way back to them. Completely.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, but Zane's finger presses against my lips, silencing the apology.

"Don't." His voice is quiet but firm. "There's nothing to apologize for."

"Tell us what you need, Angel." Levi's words skitter across my skin. "Tell us when you're ready."

I take a deep breath, letting myself settle back into the warmth of them. "I'm ready."

Zane's eyes search mine, looking for any trace of doubt. When I nod, his expression softens, and the look in his eyes turns from concern to fierce devotion. "That's my brave girl."

Levi's hands inch lower, tracing slow, teasing paths down my body. His fingers skim along my thigh, molding to the curveof my hip. His lips press against my neck, each kiss lingering, his breathy voice hot against my skin.

"So beautiful, Angel," he murmurs between kisses. "I love watching you like this."

Each word sends a fresh wave of pleasure down my spine, but I can't look away from Zane. The heat in his gaze is blistering as he watches the effect Levi's touch is having on me.

Levi's knuckles graze the side of my breast, and the moan that escapes me is deep and needy. He growls against my neck, tilting my face to capture my mouth in a hungry kiss.

Zane dips his head and begins pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along my throat, his teeth scraping over the sensitive skin until I'm whimpering.

Then, he moves lower.

Zane's mouth hovers just above my skin, his warm breath bleeding through the thin fabric of my shirt as he moves downward. A low, aching sound spills from me when he drags his lips over my nipple, teasing me. He pulls it into the heat of his mouth, sucking, nipping—setting every nerve ending on fire.

Then he pulls away, pausing long enough to make me desperate.

He blows a cool stream of air across the damp material, and the sensation wrecks me. I arch, pulling him closer, needing more.

By the time his mouth finds the other side, I'm writhing between them.

"Please," I gasp, breaking from Levi's kiss. "Z, I need—I need to feel your mouth. Take it off. Take off my shirt."

His fingertips glide over the smooth expanse of my stomach, before sliding up under my shirt. "Such a sweet girl," he murmurs.

His touch leaves trails of heat across my skin as he pushes the fabric up. Levi lifts my shoulders, helping guide the shirtover my head, then eases me back against the pillows. Cool air kisses my skin, and I sigh.

I watch Zane's fingertips move over every newly exposed inch of my skin. Behind me, Levi's breath comes hot and uneven against my neck, his hands skimming my waist with a slight tremor. Zane's throat works around a hard swallow.

Then his mouth is on me—a slow, searing kiss against my collarbone while Levi's fingers thread through my hair and he tilts my face toward his.

Zane's hands press into my body, one cupping my breast, his fingertips dragging across my nipple in a slow, teasing glide. I gasp sharply as he bows his head, his lips replacing his fingers. The wet heat of his mouth sends a shudder rippling through me, and my fingers twist into his hair, pulling him closer.

"God, I love the sounds you make," Levi breathes, pulling back just enough to let his words settle over me, thick with need. "Let me hear you Angel."

I can feel it—the way they fight to hold back, to stay gentle. And the realization hits me.

These powerful, dangerous men—men who have fought, killed, destroyed—are restraining themselves. For me.

Zane's jaw tics with the effort, his tension coiled so tight he looks ready to splinter. Behind me, Levi's breathing hitches and turns into a low moan every time I move against him. Their restraint is evident in every slow, measured touch. They want to claim, to possess, to mark, but they're holding back.

Knowing it amplifies the ache I feel for them. They could so easily break me without any thought, but they're choosing to break themselves instead—choosing to keep me safe, make sure I'm okay.

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