Lance took her arm, and giving Duncan a growl that sounded more animal-like than human, pulled her away from him. If his cousin had reached inside his chest and yanked his heart out, it wouldn’t have hurt any worse.
He snarled as Lance started undressing her, taking that pleasure away from him. Hurriedly, he shucked his clothes.
Christy’s shirt was already on the ground at her feet when Duncan finally got all his clothes and boots off. Her gaze skimmed over him, stopping at his crotch.
Was he big enough for her? Curved enough? If he wasn’t, he’d do whatever he could to make up for it. Yet her soft smile told him that he was good enough.
If he had any say in it, he’d surpass good enough and make her believe him great.
One strap of her bra slid down her shoulder at Lance’s fingertips, then the other. Water droplets crawled over her skin. He was suddenly thirsty. She crossed her arms over her chest and he prayed she wasn’t going to tell them to stop.
Yet if he had to, if she demanded that they back off, he’d try and do as she wanted. They’d never want to take their mate against her wishes, but with the amber moon tearing at their very souls, he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t. If they had to stop, a part of him would die from the effort.
With an expression that was part sweetness and part seductive, Christy reached behind her and unhooked her bra. He and Lance dropped their hands away from her and reveled in her beauty.
She was everything he could have ever wanted. Just the right weight with enough meat on her bones for a man to hold on to, and just enough attitude for a man to need to watch his step. She was tenderness and feistiness, a real woman by any man’s standards.
She unbuttoned her jeans but didn’t push them down. Duncan lifted an eyebrow in question. If she wanted them to rid her of them, then they would and thank her every second that it took them to do it. Instead, she turned around and eased them over her butt.
Cruel, hard flashes of desire had him wondering if he could stay on his feet much longer. The black lacy thong she wore disappeared into the crack between her butt cheeks. His blood pounded inside him, his wolf roaring to life, then pacing back and forth, urging him to take her. When Lance moved to do just that, he grabbed his arm and shook his head. The slight movement was almost more than he could manage.
But he was right. She wanted to be the one to take the thong off.
Tossing her hair back so she could glance over her shoulder at them, she let her jeans slide to the ground. Bending over and keeping her knees straight, she hooked her thumbs in the thong and shimmied them over her thighs to fall on top of her jeans.
“We need to hang them up.”
Was she speaking? Was it English?
He jerked his mind back into gear. “What?”
“I said we need to hang my wet clothes up.”
Her voice sounded different, thicker.
Lance bent before her, putting his face so close to the V between her legs. All he had to do was lean forward a few inches.
He’d been wrong earlier. His cousin had shown more self-restraint than he could have.
Instead, Lance scooped up her clothes then hung them on a nearby branch. “Anything else?”
Her eyes glittered, a signal that she was ready. “Yeah. Come to me.”
Chapter Seven
Nothing was making sense.
Everything was making sense.
Christy barely knew Lance and Duncan, and yet, she’d swear she’d known them all her life. She felt more in sync with them, more connected to them than with anyone she’d ever known.
She didn’t care if it didn’t make sense one minute, because in the next, it did.
She inhaled a sharp breath when Duncan suddenly grabbed her and took her off her feet. He carried her over to a large tree, then put her down on her bottom. He towered over her as did Lance.
They were magnificent men, the stuff of wet dreams and lustful talks over wine. She’d often told her friends that the men of today weren’t as manly as they should be. They didn’t possess a masculinity that men of the past had. They were too timid, too tame. Not strong enough with the wildness she hungered for to ever fall in love with them.
Now that she’d met Lance, Duncan, and Grant, she knew just how wrong she’d been. These men were all that and more.
When Duncan leaned over, she reached out, her fingertips touching the crease between Duncan’s hard pecs, then slipping over the ridges of his abdomen toward his huge cock. She jumped her gaze between his cock and Lance’s, not really comparing them, but, yeah, doing exactly that.
There was no way she could choose a winner. Duncan’s cock was thicker and curved at the end while Lance’s was longer, his balls a bit bigger. They’d strike different parts of her pussy, giving her a pleasure that would be uniquely their own.