The guest room smelled like clean sheets and the cologne Holt wore to every Christmas I had survived with my knees together.
Vance was already inside. Shirt off. Belt open. The thick line of him shoved down the front of his slacks like he had stopped pretending the second I stood up from the table. Reid took the doorway. Holt came in on my left. Behind all of them, their father set his bag against the wall and shut the door with his heel.
Four men. One dress. My pulse was a stupid, wet drum between my legs.
“Knees, little sister.” Vance’s voice had dropped all the holiday courtesy. “Reid told you what this night is. Don’t make Dad ask twice.”
I went down on their guest-room rug. The dress rode up my thighs. Vance hooked two fingers in the neckline and tore it to my waist so my t**s spi
