Day seventeen cracked the polished surface they’d been maintaining. The s*x had started—raw, reverent, overwhelming—but sharing didn’t come naturally to men used to owning every room they entered.
Caleb was the worst. He’d f**k her like she was his alone—hard, possessive, growling “mine” against her throat even when the others were right there watching. He’d pull her onto his lap during movie nights and glare at anyone who tried to touch her thigh. When Noah once slid a hand up her back mid-kiss, Caleb had shoved him back hard enough to rattle the coffee table.
Jaxon was quieter about it, but no less intense. He wanted her in silence, in darkness, just the two of them—his big hands mapping her like territory he needed to reclaim every time. He’d wait until the others were asleep or distr
