The first thing she noticed was the smell of bacon. Her stomach growled.
Miles was leaning over the stove, laughing at something Griffen must have said. How close of friends were they?
They both stopped talking immediately as she entered the kitchen and turned to face her. Two sets of wide eyes scanned her from head to toe and back up. Both men were staggeringly sexy in nothing but a pair of low-hung jeans each. No shirts. Not even socks. Just yards of perfect muscular male chests. Both men had showered, and their hair was still damp.
Miles swallowed. “Turn around.”
She took a step back. What?
“Turn around, love.” His voice was gentler as he wiped his hands on a towel and turned off the burner. Wet curls hung to his shoulders. She stared at him for a moment, an urge to run her hands through his hair consuming her.
Finally, she did as he requested, angling so she faced the wall.
“God, almighty, a man could get lost in that hair.”
Ah, it was the hair he wanted to see. Of course. Duh.
She felt Griffen’s presence as he stepped closer, and then he reached out a hand and picked up a handful of curls. He lifted it to his nose and inhaled. Then he chuckled. “She smells like you now, asshole.”
Rebecca turned around, tugging her hair free of his clutches. “I didn’t exactly have a toiletry bag on me.”
Griffen ignored her and shuffled closer. He pulled her into his embrace. “Fuck breakfast.”
She leaned back, but the damage was done. Her nipples hardened the instant they hit his bare chest, only the thin cotton between her and heaven.
“Stop it, you two,” Miles admonished. He grabbed Griffen’s arm and jerked. “Sit down. Hands to yourself. Food.”
Rebecca couldn’t breathe in this kitchen when Griffen released her to pull out a chair at the head of the table. “Baby?”
She forced her legs forward, aware of every nuance in her body. Her thighs brushed against each other. Her pussy was soaked. As she sat in the chair and he pushed her to the table, she squeezed her legs together, her bare butt hitting the hard wood.
She tried to lean forward enough to keep the T-shirt from hugging her breasts. Suddenly, the idea of walking out into the kitchen wearing nothing but a plain white tee seemed a bad idea. To distract herself, she turned to Griffen. “How’s your leg?”
He wore jeans, so it couldn’t be too bad. She was surprised he’d want the denim touching the wound.
“It’s much better. I can hardly notice it now. Don’t worry.”
Miles dished up plates of food and set them on the table while Griffen took the seat to one side of her. Miles took the other side. “Eat first. None of us has eaten for a long time. I can’t imagine when we’re going to eat again. So, no one speaks. Just eat.”
His commandment was so peculiar, and hidden in there was the implication this day was about to get weirder.
Rebecca grabbed her fork and heeded his advice. He didn’t seem like a man to mince words, and there was no doubt she was starving. Everything smelled delicious. There was enough food for ten of them.
Or so she thought. As soon as they all started shoveling eggs, bacon, pancakes, and hash browns, she realized the two men flanking her had appetites to match their statures. She did her part too, and it didn’t take long before she sat back and took a deep breath. She downed the rest of her orange juice, relishing the taste of the tangy sweetness going down her throat.
Miles stood and grabbed several plates to clear the table. He dropped them unceremoniously in the sink with a clatter behind her and repeated the action. When he returned to sit in his seat, the table clear, he took a deep breath. “I’m sure you have a shit ton of questions, and we’ll answer all of them. It may take a while, but I swear we’ll get there.”
“Okay.”
Griffen reached across the wood surface of the table and took her hand. “You get that we’re wolf shifters.”
“Got that.”
“We have some unique attributes.”
“Figured that too.” She tried to smile, but didn’t quite make it.
Miles took her other hand and danced his fingers up her forearm. “Lord, this is complicated.”
Rebecca glanced down at the table where they both held her. How was this reasonable?
She understood they were both attracted to her. That was clear. But why weren’t they at each other, fighting for her affections? And then there was the next question—who would she choose? She’d ignored that niggling thought for longer than she should have.
It seemed like a contest had been going on for the last twelve hours that included both men exposing themselves and tempting her with their lips and teasing her with their touch. Did it all come down to this?