Page 8 of Her Brothers' Best Friends

Panic made her clumsy, and her fingers were trembling so hard they felt like floppy sausages.

Dear god, what had she done?

She had a clear chance to get away, and she blew it on her ego.

Whimpering with apprehension, she couldn’t find an ax close by, which meant she had to leave the door and go and find one.

But it was all over for her.

Thanks to Rhys being calm and diligent, they were set free. Lindsay tossed her head over her shoulder to see them coming toward her.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

She banged on the door as if someone was out there and could help her.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Chris said, as he grabbed her around the waist as if she were a doll and picked her up. He placed her on his lap and held her down as she tried to squirm away.

“First, we want to see the real you,” Chris said.

“What are—”

She stopped talking when Rhys came toward her with a bowl of warm water, soap, and a washcloth.

“Just wait—”

But they weren’t going to listen. With Chris holding her firmly in place, by wrapping his arms around her arms, Rhys quietly took her chin in his hand, and as gently as if he were handling a precious, rare diamond, he proceeded to wash the makeup off her face.

Once he was done, they all stared at her face for a moment too long, and she grew hotter than ever.

“You’re in our territory now, Lindsay,” Chris said softly as he carried her to an old bench where the leather had softened through age and placed her on her hands and knees.

“Wait. What are you doing? I’m Lizelle, and this is not what I get paid for.”

“You still want to carry on playing that game, Lindsay?” Shaw asked, laughing.

Okay, fine, it was a stupid thing to say since they wiped Lizelle off her face, but the wetness in her panties from being touched by them and her apprehension that she was never going to be the same because they touched her made her feel crazy.

“It’s not a game—”

Again, she stopped talking when Shaw started to bind her wrists to the bench. If she weren’t so outraged, she would have questioned why the bench came with restraints in the first place.

Behind her, Chris and Rhys removed her boots. Thankfully, they left her socks on. Not because she was cold, but because she wanted to be as clothed as she could in their company.

Well, that flew out the window quickly enough when she felt Chris’ and Rhys’ strong and calloused hands slip up her dress and their fingers dip into the thin band of her panties.

Okay no.

“What are you doing?” she cried. But as they began to pull her embarrassingly soaked underwear off her, her gaze followed Shaw, who had started to empty her Santa bag.

Oh god, no. The things inside there were just props to add credibility that she was from Santa Triple X—all the toys came clearly masked with the logo.

Her mouth dried when Shaw pulled out a box of butt plugs. Santa Claus butt plugs. Andrea had bought the same one for research purposes.

Nope.

“If this is a joke, it’s over. Untie me and let me leave.”

“We will. In due course. When we get all the answers we want from you, little girl.”

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