Darren's hand finds the small of my back, warm and steady through the fabric of my sweater. "Let's sit," he suggests, guiding me toward the sectional where Zayn is already sprawled at one end.
I settle into the cushions, hyperaware of Darren beside me, of Zayn's proximity at the other end of the section, of Jax taking thearmchair across from us, of Aidan perching on the ottoman, of Dmitri leaning against the fireplace mantel with his own glass in hand. They're all watching me with varying degrees of intensity, and I should feel intimidated or awkward.
Instead, I feel... powerful. Desired.
"So," I say, taking another sip of wine for courage, "is this how your nights usually end? The five of you bringing someone home?"
The question hangs in the air for a beat, and I wonder if I've crossed some invisible line. Then Zayn laughs, the sound rich and genuine.
"Hardly," he says. "This is actually a first."
I look between them, surprised. "Really? I would have thought..."
"That we do this all the time?" Jax fills in, his gray eyes warm with amusement. "No. We've never brought anyone home as a pack before."
That statement makes my skin prickle with awareness. I'm the first woman they've all shared. Whatever happens tonight, it's not just another routine evening for them.
"Then I'm flattered," I say, aiming for lighthearted but hearing the sudden huskiness in my voice.
"We're the ones who should be grateful," Dmitri says quietly from his position by the fireplace. "That you trust us enough to be here."
The sincerity in his voice hits me. This isn't just about sex for them, either. Although I want that, more than I care to admit. I want all of them.
Darren's arm slides around my shoulders, pulling me subtly closer to his side. "We can just talk, enjoy the company," he says gently. "No expectations."
The others nod in agreement, but there's an energy in the air now that makes my skin feel too sensitive, too aware of everypoint of contact. Darren's arm around me, his thigh pressed against mine, Zayn's gaze from the other end of the sectional.
"I didn't come back here just to talk," I admit, the words slipping out before I can overthink them.
The effect is immediate. The air in the room seems to thicken and crackle with hunger.
"What did you come back for, then?" Jax asks, his voice low and controlled.
I look at him, then at each of them in turn, my heart racing. "I came back because I want to see where this goes."
I should feel vulnerable, having laid my desire so plainly before these five men. Instead, I feel strangely powerful. I've acknowledged what I want, and now the ball is in their court.
Zayn is the first to move. He sets his wine glass down, then slides along the sectional until he's close enough that I can feel his body heat. “And where do you want it to go?” he asks, his eyes locked on mine. “We need to know you're sure, beautiful.”
I swallow, suddenly aware of how dry my mouth is despite the water. "I want... I want to explore this connection I feel. Whatever it is between us. All of us."
"All of us," Aidan echoes, his voice catching slightly on the words.
"Yes," I confirm, feeling my cheeks heat but holding my ground. "I've only been with Darren so far, but I feel drawn to all of you. And I know you feel it too."
"We do," Jax confirms, his expression growing heated. "Very much so."
"But only if you're certain," Darren adds, his hand squeezing my shoulder gently. "If you're ready."
I turn to look at him, finding concern mixed with desire in his blue eyes. "I'm sure," I tell him, then address the room at large. "I want this. Want you."
The confession seems to break something loose in the room. Dmitri pushes away from the mantel, moving to sit on my other side. Zayn shifts even closer. Aidan abandons the ottoman to kneel on the floor in front of the sectional.
I'm suddenly surrounded, encircled by their presence, but it doesn't feel threatening. It feels right. Like being enveloped in warmth and protection and desire.
Darren's fingers thread through my hair, gently turning my face toward his. His lips find mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly deepens as I respond eagerly. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance that I readily grant. The kiss is familiar now, but no less thrilling for its familiarity. He knows exactly how to tilt his head, how much pressure to apply, how to make me melt against him.
A large, warm hand settles on my thigh. Not Darren's, because both of his are accounted for, one in my hair and the other at my waist. I break the kiss to look down and find Dmitri's hand resting there, his pale blue eyes watching me intently for any sign of discomfort.
