Hard to Hold

by Nicole Edwards

  Wolfe and Rhys were the right men, Amy knew.

  The ones who would make her understand how good making love to someone could feel.

  And Wolfe was here now.

  As much as she wanted that, Amy was scared to ask him. She didn’t want him to feel sorry for her, didn’t want him to think she was using him to shove the memories away.

  She wasn’t.

  Not at all.

  She wanted him with a passion she didn’t even understand, one that consumed her when she was around him.

  “What are you thinkin’ about?” he whispered, his voice rough.

  “I like touching you,” she admitted, allowing her hands to move over him slowly, gliding across the muscles that flexed and bulged as he held himself above her.

  Wolfe smiled, his eyes darkening as he watched her face, seemingly content to remain right there, letting her explore.

  Amy had no idea how long she spent simply trailing her hands over his warm skin. It wasn’t until a light knock at the door broke the spell that she stopped. She didn’t move, but neither did Wolfe.

  “Who is it?” he called out, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Rhys.”

  “Door’s unlocked.”

  Wolfe lifted one eyebrow and Amy deciphered it as him seeking approval to remain where he was. She nodded in response, her body heating, the ache between her legs intensifying. Knowing Rhys was there…

  It was exactly what she wanted.

  The door opened, then closed. When a shadow fell over her, she tilted her head back, looking up at Rhys, seeing him upside down.

  “Am I interruptin’?” he asked, his voice gruff. But it wasn’t with anger, it was something else. Something that sounded an awful lot like the way she felt on the inside. Needy, aching, almost desperate for the three of them to come together as one.

  “Not at all,” she told him.

  He moved out of her line of sight, so Amy returned her focus to Wolfe. He was still watching her, still hovering above her. That was when she realized she was still touching him.

  Rhys joined them again, perching on the arm of the couch above her head. Amy reached up, sliding her hand over his thigh, dividing her attention between the two men. She wanted Rhys down there with them. Closer. Touching her while she touched him.

  When his hand covered hers, she tugged his arm. He moved, kneeling on the floor beside her head. Wolfe shifted, too, lying on his side next to her, placing her between him and Rhys.

  She saw the moment Rhys realized what she was wearing. Or more accurately, what she wasn’t wearing. His blue eyes lit with what she definitely knew was desire this time. He wanted her.

  The shirt had obviously been a good idea.

  When Amy awoke the first time in Wolfe’s bed, she’d been sweating. When she got up to use the restroom, she’d wandered into his closet and pulled one of his T-shirts off a hanger, stripping down to her panties and then pulling it on. Then she had crawled back in his bed and slept like the dead.

  Of course, when she woke up the second time, she had figured wearing the shirt might not be such a bad thing. Based on the look she’d received from Wolfe and the way Rhys’s eyes flared as he blatantly ogled the length of her body, it certainly wasn’t a bad thing.

  The heated looks empowered her.

  “Touch me,” she whispered, looking from Rhys to Wolfe. “Please.”

  Wolfe’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed hard.

  He didn’t come out and ask her if she was sure, but Amy knew he was wondering. She didn’t reassure him, wanting him to know without her having to say it.

  And she was sure.

  As a matter of fact, she’d never been more certain about anything in her life.

  Wolfe leaned down and kissed her, and this time, Amy didn’t let him get away with treating her like blown glass. She grabbed his head and kissed him back, her tongue thrusting into his mouth, her head lifting off the cushion as she crushed her breasts against his chest. Her body instantly caught fire when his hand splayed on her thigh. She knew she was affecting him because his hand tightened, his fingers pressing into her skin. Not painfully so, but enough that she could tell he was still holding back.

  “Touch me,” she pleaded, kissing down his jaw. “Now, Wolfe.”

  He growled low in his throat, the sexiest sound she’d ever heard in her life.

  Amy turned her head, then pulled Rhys in for a kiss. She didn’t want him to sit this one out. She wanted him right there with them. Never in her life had she imagined she’d be sandwiched by the two sexiest men on the planet, yet that was exactly where she found herself.

  Right where she wanted to be.

  Walking into Wolfe’s house and finding the two of them laid out on the couch had made his dick roar to life. Seeing Amy in Wolfe’s T-shirt… Lord have mercy. Rhys’s jeans had become damned uncomfortable in an instant.

  And now that she was kissing him, her urgency was apparent and his need grew exponentially.

  But Rhys didn’t want urgent. He wanted to savor her—this—for as long as possible. He wanted to show her just how good the three of them could be together. After the horror she’d relayed to them this morning, Rhys wanted to show her how it felt to be worshipped, appreciated. Loved.

  Granted, the couch probably wasn’t the best place, but it would work for the time being.

  Rhys had to break the kiss because Amy was quickly driving him insane. She was making it hard to think. And thinking was critical because there were a million ways he wanted to drive her out of her mind.

  Wolfe must’ve been thinking along the same lines because when Amy turned to kiss him, he held back, grinning at her.

  “Relax,” Wolfe said, his voice gravelly.

  He wasn’t as unaffected as he wanted them to believe, that was for damn sure.

  “I think we need to move this to the bedroom,” Wolfe suggested.

  Rhys agreed. He got to his feet, then helped Amy up. When she was standing, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off her feet. She squealed, wrapping her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. Not bothering to look where he was going, Rhys managed to make it to Wolfe’s bedroom without any incidents. Seconds later, he bumped the bed with his knees. Without releasing her, he laid Amy out on Wolfe’s bed, hovering over her for an extra heartbeat. When Wolfe joined them, Rhys relinquished his position and dropped to her other side.

  “More touching,” Amy whispered, smiling. “Quit making me wait.”

  “But waitin’ is part of the fun,” Rhys replied.

  Amy rolled her eyes, making them both laugh.

  Her laughter died on a raspy moan a second later as Rhys put his hand on one thigh, Wolfe placing his on the other. Her eyes flew open, darting back and forth between them.

  “Yes,” she pleaded.

  Rhys dragged the backs of his knuckles up over her hip, making sure to take the T-shirt as he went. Wolfe mirrored the movement, revealing a pair of white cotton panties.

  Air became scarce.

  It wasn’t that Rhys hadn’t seen plenty of women’s panties in his lifetime, but there was something so fucking sexy about those damn panties.

  “Fuck,” Wolfe groaned.

  Apparently he thought so, too.

  They worked the shirt up over her breasts—small, perky, and fucking perfect breasts—then helped her take it off. Wolfe threw it across the room, his eyes focused on her tits.

  Rhys brushed Amy’s shoulder with his lips, then trailed his mouth lower, pressing kisses to the scar there—likely where they’d gone in to repair her clavicle—until he came to one rigid nipple, which he took between his lips, dragging his tongue over the pebbled tip. Amy’s sharp inhale seemed overly loud in the otherwise silent room. Her hand flew up into his hair, holding him to her.

  “Oh, my…” Amy’s chest heaved, her back bowing as they laved her nipples, teasing her slowly.

  Wolfe lifted his head first, then shifted lower on the bed bef
ore kneeling by her legs. In one swift move, he made her panties disappear, leaving her laid out naked between them.

  “Holy. Fuck. So fucking pretty,” Wolfe rasped as he shifted her legs apart, shouldering his way between her thighs.

  Evidently they were fast-tracking this.

  Wolfe’s hungry gaze focused between her legs, his thumbs gently caressing smooth, bare skin as he opened her pussy lips, revealing the wet, pink flesh.

  Rhys could admit he was a little jealous when Wolfe lowered his mouth to taste her, his tongue sliding through her slit as he stared up the length of her body, watching her reaction.

  “Wolfe!” Amy jerked, her fingers grabbing for Rhys’s arm.

  He leaned over her, kissing her gently. “Let it feel good, Amy.”

  “It’s too much.” Her head dipped down into the mattress, her stomach muscles quivering beneath his hand as Wolfe’s tongue worked her into a frenzy.

  “Open your eyes, baby,” Rhys urged. “Watch what he’s doin’. The way his tongue slides over your clit.”

  “Rhys … oh, God…”

  The next thing he knew, Amy unraveled, crying out as her climax hit her.

  If he didn’t know better, Rhys would’ve sworn that was the first time she’d ever…

  Holy fuck.

  18

  __________

  When Amy came, she seemed completely shocked by it.

  That was when Wolfe realized, having only had sex with one man—a fucking monster, at that—she’d probably never had an orgasm before.

  Not that his ego needed much more of a boost, but… Yeah. Wolfe would be taking this accomplishment with him to the grave.

  As she settled, her breaths racing in and out of her lungs, Wolfe moved over her. He didn’t stop until his mouth was centimeters from hers.

  “Kiss me, darlin’,” he whispered. “See how fuckin’ good you taste.”

  Her eyes widened momentarily, but then she was kissing him, a soft moan vibrating against his mouth. Wolfe pulled back, looked at Rhys, then reached for him. Crushing his mouth to Rhys’s, Wolfe was more forceful with him, allowing some of the tension to escape with the rough thrust of his tongue. As worked up as he was, Wolfe was not going to do anything more than this. Although he wanted to make love to Amy, that wasn’t going to happen. Not this time.

  However, that didn’t mean they couldn’t make her come again.

  Letting Rhys go, Wolfe fell back onto the bed, pressing up against Amy’s side as he stared down at her face.

  “You ready for more?”

  Her eyes opened and she gave him a beautiful, radiant smile that stole his breath. Then she nodded.

  Wolfe trailed his hands over Amy’s bare stomach, but he didn’t move where she wanted him to. Instead, he reached for Rhys’s hand, then guided it down between her legs. Rhys didn’t need any more guidance though.

  They both watched her as Rhys teased her with his fingers, stroking her clit for long minutes before he pushed one digit inside her.

  “Oh, God…” She groaned long and loud, her back bowing off the bed.

  “So tight,” Rhys muttered, his attention between her thighs. “So wet.”

  “You like that?” Wolfe asked Amy. “Like feeling Rhys inside you?”

  She moaned, her body undulating as Rhys fingered her.

  “Come for us, Amy.” Wolfe lowered his mouth to her breast while Rhys worked her into another frenzy, driving her close to the brink again.

  Unable to help himself, Wolfe watched the way Rhys’s finger disappeared, then returned, slick with her juices. It was so fucking hot to watch, listening to her gasps of pleasure. Wolfe wanted this to go on forever.

  “More,” Amy whispered. “I need more.”

  Rhys inserted two fingers and increased his pace.

  Wolfe felt his body humming, his cock so fucking hard he could’ve drilled holes in concrete. But this wasn’t about him. It was about making Amy feel good, showing her how it was supposed to be, how a man was supposed to pleasure a woman.

  Rhys’s hand moved faster, his fingers driving into her.

  “Come for me, Amy,” Rhys whispered. “Let me feel you come.”

  Wolfe watched Amy’s face, saw the exact moment she let her orgasm take her.

  “Perfect,” Wolfe whispered, sliding his finger over her cheek as he repeated what he’d told her earlier, with one slight deviation. “For us.”

  Half an hour later, after drawing Amy a bath and helping her into the tub, Wolfe found Rhys standing in the kitchen, looking out over the back pasture.

  Rhys hadn’t bothered to put on a shirt, his back muscles tense as he stood motionless. Walking up to him, Wolfe pressed his bare chest to Rhys’s back, then slid his arms around him. He’d never imagined himself doing this. Holding a man in his house. Certainly not Rhys Trevino.

  Wolfe pressed his lips to Rhys’s shoulder. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” Rhys turned his head so that Wolfe could reach his mouth. He kissed him once, twice. “She in the bath?”

  “Yep. And she has informed me that she wants food when she gets out.” Wolfe chuckled.

  Rhys turned in Wolfe’s arms, his voice low as he spoke. “Did you see her back?”

  Wolfe looked past Rhys, out the window and into the pasture, the image of what he’d seen when he helped Amy into the bath coming back to him. It was a sight he would never forget, one that made him want to castrate the bastard who had done that to her.

  “Either he whipped her or he cut her,” Rhys said softly.

  Or both, Wolfe thought.

  Rhys frowned. “She didn’t mention that part.”

  Wolfe figured there was a lot she’d left out. Rightfully so. For one, the details she had given them were more than any one person should’ve had to suffer. Having seen the jagged scars all over her back, from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, neck to ass … Wolfe had realized then that it was far worse than Amy had let on. Although she certainly hadn’t spared them the details.

  “She’s strong,” Wolfe told Rhys. “Far stronger than she even realizes.”

  Leaning forward, Rhys rested his forehead against Wolfe’s. They remained like that for a few minutes. It was comforting to have him there. More so than Wolfe would’ve thought.

  “You ever think that this whole time, we’ve been waiting for her? That this—the three of us—was supposed to happen?”

  Wolfe understood what Rhys meant; however, he wasn’t sure he wanted to see it that way.

  Because if it was true, while they were waiting…

  Amy had been suffering. So, no, Wolfe didn’t want to think about it that way. Instead, he wanted to think that it was meant to be. That Amy was meant for the two of them. Twice the protection to keep her safe and ensure she never had to endure anything like that for the rest of her life.

  The two of them stood there for a long time, neither of them moving. Wolfe liked that they could, that they didn’t have to be doing anything at all to be content.

  “Please tell me the food’s ready.”

  Wolfe pulled away from Rhys as Amy stepped into the kitchen. Once again, she was wearing his T-shirt, her legs bare.

  “Are you tryin’ to kill me, woman?” Wolfe smirked, kissing her quickly as he moved toward the Crock-Pot on the counter. “And yes, you can eat. Find a chair and put your cute little ass in it.”

  Rhys pulled out one of the chairs at the table for her, then went to the refrigerator. It was as though the man knew his way around Wolfe’s house. He didn’t. In fact, until yesterday, the sheriff had never been inside Wolfe’s house.

  Oddly enough, Wolfe liked that he was making himself at home. It seemed natural.

  “I need to call Reagan,” Amy said. “I’m sure she doesn’t care whether or not I’m home, but I want her to know when I’ll be there.”

  That sounded like a question to Wolfe. Almost like Amy was asking when he was going to take her back to her place.

  “Tea or water?” Rhys asked Amy. “Do you
wanna go home right now?”

  “Tea would be great. And no, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “That’ll never happen,” Wolfe mumbled under his breath. She could stay there as long as she wanted. Forever, in fact.

  Shit.

  When the hell had he started thinking like that?

  Amy wasn’t about to ask Wolfe if she could stay the night.

  Not that she didn’t want to, but it felt a little awkward right now.

  She didn’t want them to think she was trying to hide out, although now that she thought about it, maybe she was. A little.

  There was no denying that she felt safe at Wolfe’s house. Especially with Wolfe and Rhys there with her. She figured if they weren’t there, she’d feel just as exposed as she did at her own place. Ultimately, Amy knew there was nowhere she could hide forever. Eventually, he would find her. She only hoped she had a little notice so she could be ready.

  Wolfe brought her a plate with beef roast, potatoes, carrots, and baby onions. On the side, there was a slice of cornbread. She had to fight back the tears. She wasn’t one to break down and cry all the time—in her nightmares, that was another story—so it embarrassed her a little.

  “What’s the matter?” Rhys asked.

  His concerned tone almost made her cry more, but she managed to wipe her eyes and choke out a laugh. “I’m sorry. I’m not usually such a wimp. It’s just… No one has cooked me dinner since…” She looked up at the two men. “Not since my aunt.”

  “Well, if you can stomach my food,” Wolfe said with a teasing grin, “I’ll be more than happy to cook for you. But don’t get all teary-eyed until you try it.”

  She laughed again, obviously his intention.

  “And about tonight…” Wolfe brought a plate for Rhys and himself, then joined them at the table. “I’d like you to stay here. You can call Reagan and let her know. But I want you to get a good night’s sleep, and that’s the only way it’s gonna happen.”

  It was true. Then again, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have a nightmare after having spilled her guts this morning. She didn’t want either of them to see that, but she would deal with it if it came to that.