Page 44 of Puck Yes

My eyes float open, and I feel like a bunny spotted by a wolf in the woods at night. My pulse soars as my gaze locks with Stefan’s. His blue eyes aren’t icy now. They’re fire. His lips part as he stares at me.

This is what I want.

“I dropped my key card for my room,” Stefan says, but there’s no apology or shame in his voice.

Hayes barely pulls back from me. “How convenient,” he deadpans against the skin of my neck as Stefan strolls down the aisle, turning away from me.

Is that all Stefan’s here for? He’s not even looking at me as Hayes dives back in, kissing my neck more, dragging his scruffy jaw against my skin deliciously. My pulse rockets with unchecked need as I watch Stefan walk—the cut of his shoulders in his dress shirt that stretches across his broad back, the shape of his ass, strong, rounded, and so damn muscular it should be illegal.

Most of all, his attitude.

Like it’s no big deal to walk in on us. Desire coils in my chest, travels down my belly, then settles between my thighs in a sweet ache. Even as Hayes slides a hand down my arm, I’m watching Stefan while he grabs his card from the floor and turns around.

The smile he sends me is pure gamesmanship.

“Don’t stop on my account,” Stefan remarks with a casual shrug. “I’m here for the show.”

My breath hitches. Yes. Yes. Fucking yes.

A wicked light shines in Hayes’s eyes. “You want that, Ivy? You want to give him a show?” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

I’m afraid to speak. Afraid if I use words this wild, daring moment will crumble. I just nod.

But that’s not enough for Hayes. He grabs me tighter, rougher. He likes to manhandle me, and I think I love it. “Say it, or I’ll tell him to get the fuck out.”

His command thrills me. I want to obey.

“Watch us.” Locking eyes with Stefan once again, I add, “Watch me.”

He grabs a chair from the altar, spins it around and straddles it, parking his elbows on the back, his gaze rolling over me like a heat wave. He flicks a hand at his friend. “Kiss her again, Hayes.”

Holy shit. He’s telling Hayes what to do. A crackle of electricity roars through me. But Hayes doesn’t kiss me. He regards me with firm, clear eyes. “Are you drunk?”

Only on the heady feeling of the two of them. I shake my head. “Not even tipsy.” I married him on a dare, not a drink. My buzz has faded. “You?”

“Same,” he says, then runs his knuckles against my cheek. “You want this?”

Like I’ve never wanted anything before. But I learned all sorts of things about myself as they’ve circled me this past week. And now, tonight as they’ve cornered me.

I’ve learned I like to play too.

With a tease of a smile, I say, “Find out.”

He slides his hand down my cheek, over my jaw, curling his palm against my throat. He’s not grabbing me. But he is holding me firmly.

He draws a deep breath, cranes his neck to the door where Elvis walked out, then turns back, his eyes roaming up and down me. “There’s another wedding in five minutes,” he says, and it’s not an equivocation. It’s the stakes.

“Better get on with it, Hayes,” Stefan says, all laid-back and casual. “The woman needs to come, and she needs to come fast.”

Letting go of my neck, Hayes sets to work, tugs up the fabric of my skirt, then slides a hand across the panel of my panties. My hips tilt. I need more. The look on his handsome face is pure devil. “But you’re so wet, I bet it won’t even take me that long.”

“You’re confident,” I taunt, but I’m at the mercy of his touch and he knows it. I’m at the mercy of their words.

“You testing us?” Hayes demands as he pinches my clit.

Us. I get wetter as he says that. “Yes,” I say, my voice wobbly from the sharp sting of pleasure.

“Put her hands up against the wall,” Stefan commands from several feet away.

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