The couch arm was the wrong height and the perfect one. I bent over it because he had told me to, dress rucked to my waist, ruined panties dragged to one thigh and left there like evidence. The room was too quiet. Jonah’s chair creaked once when he shifted and then went still, the way a man goes still when he has already lost and is trying not to prove it.
Reid didn’t rush. That was the cruel part. He stood behind me and put one hand on the small of my back, pressing until my chest met the cushion and my ass tipped up. The other hand spread me. Two fingers slid through the mess he had already made, slow, showing the room how open I was.
“Ask,” he said.
My face was turned toward the chair. I could see Jonah’s knees, his fists, the shine in his eyes. Mack had moved closer. Levi was a shad
