Page 20 of Wings of Strife
Raphael’s eyes darken. “I’d rather you join.”
They both get up from the mat and head toward their belongings. Theo stays quiet, tossing a water bottle and a towel to Raphael.
They drink their fill, but before they can wipe the sweat away, I stop them. “Leave it. I rather like the sweaty look on you guys.”
Heat pools in my core as they both stare at me with unadulterated want.
Theo throws the towel down and says, “Why don’t you go change so you can join us?”
I consider my options. I could head to the private changing rooms attached to this one. That’s most likely what they expect me to do. Or I could drop my things right here and change where they can see. Where they can watch.
“Alright,” I say cheerfully, heading toward the changing rooms.
They get back on the mat and begin another round of training so they don’t catch on right away when I drop my bag on a bench and untie my sneakers. They don’t see when I remove my socks or pull my hair back into a ponytail. But when I unzip my jeans and pull them down my thighs, all sounds of sparring ceases.
I pretend not to notice at first, though I feel their eyes scorching a trail over my bare legs as I pull a loose pair of shorts from my bag and put them on. Before I take off my shirt, though, I glance in their direction. “No need to stop on my account.”
Except they don’t resume their sparing, and that knowledge fuels something wicked inside of me. With their eyes on me, tracking my every movement, I feel powerful. They watch as I pull my shirt off, left only in my favorite sports bra—a pretty turquoise piece with a zipper down the front and crisscross design along the back.
When I step onto the mat, it’s as if I’ve stepped into a bolt of lightning. Electricity dashes across my flesh until I feel invincible. I wonder if they feel it too.
Neither man exits the sparring mat, and I realize why. “Two against one, huh?”
Raphael’s eyes darken, causing goosebumps to rise on my arms. “I think you can handle us both just fine, sunshine.”
I stifle a groan at his innuendo.
They don’t wait for me to get settled, but they don’t go hard on me, either. This is a training session, after all. I duck to avoid Raphael’s grasp, then somersault away from Theo. Running away might not be the best option, but I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to watch two beings at once and still plan attacks. Having eyes in the back of my head would be fucking awesome right now.
But this isn’t like any fight with the demons would be. They sure as shit don’t look at me the way Raphael and Theo are right now. Like I’m the cure to what ails them, and after searching across the entire world for it, they aren’t willing to give it up for anything.
We circle a few more times. I avoid most of their grabs and fake swipes, but sometimes if I’m not quick enough, the tips of their fingers graze my arm, my back, my belly. Every time a part of my body comes into contact with theirs, it feels as if I might die without more of it.
I trip over my own feet while trying to avoid Theo’s long arms and fall right into Raphael’s trap. He wraps his long fingers around my throat, gentle but firm, and pulls me into him for a searing kiss that has my toes curling. His lips demand more from me. All of me. As if he’s traveled across a frozen wasteland and the heat of my mouth is the only thing that can cure his frostbite.
Theo steps up behind me, pressing his body into my back. I reach behind me until I have one arm looped around Theo’s neck and one arm wrapped around Raphael’s. Connected to them both.
Slowly, I break the kiss with Raphael, turning between them to search for Theo’s mouth. His lips are soft yet demanding, consuming every waking thought as his kiss devours my entire fucking being.
I let go of every ounce of pent up emotion. My anger toward Professor Uriel. My disappointment at the behavior from theFallen angels. And my fear that I’ll never connect with my men again.
I’m nothing but a churning ball of need and want, and nothing matters but the sensations I feel in this moment. Cherished. Wanted. Needed.
Cared for.
9
Raphael strips off my clothes while I’m lost in Theo’s kiss.
Having them pressed against me like this, with their warm, sweaty bodies covering mine, I’m going out of my mind.
Delirium. In the best possible way.
“Tell us you want this. Us,” Raphael says, slowly unzipping my bra. There’s a desperation in his voice that almost has me undone.
Theo leaves my lips to press kisses across my jaw and down my neck, toward the opening in my bra Raphael just created.
“Gods, yes. I need you both. I’d never survive if I lost either of you.” The words escape, unbidden, but I don’t regret them. I need Raphael and Theo to understand just how absolutely smitten I am. They have to know that I’d never choose between them. I couldn’t.
