Page 3 of The Price of Mercy
Everyone at the party knows who we are.
The Dead Girl and her Murderous Men.
It almost has a nice ring to it.
Kane sets me down beside his motorcycle. “Don’t worry about that.” His expression softens as he attempts to smooth out the dimple between my eyebrows with his thumb. “Don’t worry about anything, Mercy.”
I’ve spent my entire life worrying about something, whether it be my mother’s health, my brother’s mean streak, or my own spiraling depression. Telling menot to worryis like telling the wind not to blow or the sun not to shine. It’s an impossibility. Drawing a breath, I consider telling Kane this but ultimately decide against it. He might try to prove me wrong. “Okay.”
That pleases him. “Yeah?” His face lights up instantly, and he backs me up against his bike, easily caging me between his arms. Lowering his head, he brushes his lips against mine.
“I’ll take care of you, Mercy.”
My heartbeat picks up as he kisses me soft and slow, like he’s savoring the idea of it: me needing him.
His breath is warm on my lips. “Won’t you let me?”
Gravel crunches nearby, and I open my eyes just in time to witness Sam’s fury. Jaw clenched, emerald eyes flashing, he grabs Kane’s shoulder and wrenches him away from me. “Get your hands off her!”
Kane can’t keep a smug smile off his face. “She likes my hands,” he quips, “among other things.”
That pisses Sam off. He clenches his fists. “Don’t you touch her.”
“She likes that, too.”
Sam growls. “Fuck!” His head snaps to me, like he’s waiting for me to deny it, but I can’t. Everything Kane is saying is true.
“I like both of you,” I admit softly, biting my lip. My cheeks warm. This isn’t exactly news, but both men light up like they’re hearing my confession for the first time. “I like it when you both touch me.”
The glimmer of hope in Sam’s eyes extinguishes once he realizes what I’m saying; I likebothof them, not just him. Cursing under his breath, Sam clenches his eyes shut. “Jesus Christ, Mercy.” Groaning, he rubs the back of his eyelids. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
I can’t believe that he’shard.Sam’s dick punches the zipper of his jeans, aching to break free. Kane notices it, too, unable to stop himself from laughing. “Fuck, Wright, I didn’t take you for a cuck. If you wanted me to touch your girl for you, all you had to do was ask.”
“That’s not—” Sam runs a hand through his hair, his gaze pinging between the two of us. “It’s not—fuck.It’s not like that.”
“It sure looks like that.”
Ignoring Kane, Sam closes the distance between us in a heartbeat. He presses my body against the motorcycle and tangles his fingers in my hair while his other hand grabs my hip. Panting, he covers my body, pressing his bare chest to mine and digging his erection into my stomach. “Mercy,” he groans, our noses bumping. “Fuck, you look good.” He says it like he hates to admit it, the words burning like acid in his throat.
Then he kisses me, and it’s nothing like the gentle sweep of Kane’s lips. Hot and heavy and desperate, pouring his desire into my body like gasoline, his grip tight, the heat of his body burning. I didn’t anticipate wanting anyone’s touch after the events of the evening, but as Sam licks into my mouth and moans, I realize thatthisfire can burn through the fear and the pain and thewhat ifs. With Sam—or Kane—or both, I don’t have to worry about what could have happened.
What matters is what’s real, and right now, Sam feelsveryreal.
I whimper from the heat and desperation of his touch. This isn’t like him. He normally waits—forever, if he has to—for permission. Maybe he’s taking a page from Kane’s book. Maybe he’s realizing that he doesn’t have to be so careful.
All at once, he backs off, tearing his body from mine and turning his face away. Chest heaving, dick hard, face flushed, he shudders. “Shit. I’m sorry.Fuck.” It’s like he shoves all of his pent-up desire into a box and slams the lid shut. He goes from slipping his tongue into my mouth one second to repenting for it the next. “I’m so sorry, Mercy.” The fire in his eyes is doused by a wave of guilt. “You shouldn’t let me touch you like that. I’m?—”
Kane claps the top of Sam’s shoulder as he breezes past. “Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it all before. You’re sorry. You fucked up. You owe her. Which, to be clear,you do.” He bares his teeth as he sweeps me under his arm and pulls me into his side. “I might have to tie you up, Pretty Boy, if you can’t keep your handsto yourself. Or all of that…” Kane lifts the hand off my shoulder to wave vaguely at Sam. “Messy shit you’ve got going on. Your aura isyellow, dude.”
Since when does Kane read auras?
Rather than explain, he grabs the helmet off the back of his bike and fits it on my head, taking extra care with the chin strap. “Let’s get you home.”
I blink up at him. “What about the body?”
“Sam and I will take care of it.”
A wrinkle of annoyance flares inside my chest. So, what, he wants me to sit around at home while he and Sam do all the dirty work? I purse my lips and grab Kane’s chin. “You arenotleaving me at home like some—” I search for the right word. “Child. You don’t have to baby me, Kane; I’m fine.”
