Amy peered up at him.
“He won’t stop,” Rhys continued. “If he did this to you, he’ll do it to someone else. Hell, it’s possible he already has. Considering his age, you were probably not his first victim, either.”
Wolfe watched as Amy processed that information. Her eyes widened in horror, and Wolfe could feel her pain. He knew she didn’t want to even think about that man hurting someone else the way he’d hurt her.
“I need some time to think about this,” Amy finally said, her eyes fixed on Wolfe’s face.
“You let us know when you’re ready,” Wolfe told her, pulling her against him and wrapping his arms around her. “And what you decide. We’re not goin’ anywhere.”
Amy nodded, her gaze bouncing back and forth between him and Rhys.
When she pulled back, Wolfe reluctantly let her go.
“And I don’t want either of you thinking you have to save me.”
Those words felt like a slap to the face. Wolfe took a single step back. “Why would you say somethin’ like that?”
Amy didn’t move. “Because … that’s how it feels. I’ve burdened you both with my problem since day one. And I’ve seen the way you are. Both of you. You’re looking to save me.” She shook her head as though that made no sense. “No one can save me from him.”
“I… Are…? Holy fuck.” Hell, he couldn’t even form a sentence. He was completely thrown by her words. Did she honestly believe that he only wanted to play the hero here?
“Is that what you really think?” Rhys asked, his tone ringing with the same confusion that Wolfe felt.
She glanced between the two of them before finally nodding her head and looking down at the floor.
Taking a step closer, Wolfe tilted her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eyes once again. “You really don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“Goddamn, Amy. You don’t get it. I’m not tryin’ to save you…” Wolfe held her gaze, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’m tryin’ to love you.”
Those were quite possibly the most powerful words Amy had ever heard.
And the conviction behind them…
She hadn’t meant to hurt Wolfe or Rhys by saying that they didn’t need to save her. But that was how she felt. As though she’d become a charity case. At least in the past few hours, anyway. Everyone was coming together to figure out a way to fix this for her. How could she not think that?
What they didn’t understand was Amy couldn’t be saved. Not from him. She knew he was out there, probably counting down the minutes until he snatched her. She knew him. He would enjoy playing this game. It was what he always wanted, for her to fear him. No matter how many people stood between her and him, Kelly Jackson would find her again.
Oh, she was certainly more than grateful that Wolfe and Rhys and the people in this town wanted to help her, but she didn’t want that to be their only reason for being with her.
As she looked up at Wolfe, then at Rhys, Amy realized one thing. Obviously, she had jumped to conclusions.
The expressions on their faces were of complete shock and anguish. As though she’d called them every bad name in the book.
“Did you hear me?” Wolfe questioned, his eyes hard.
She nodded, not moving when he took a step closer.
“I love you, Amy.”
Her breath hitched, the words making her heart constrict. She wanted to believe them. God, she even prayed they were true. Never had she been happier than when she was with Wolfe and Rhys.
“I don’t want to be the goddamn hero. I want to love you. And yes, I want to protect you, but that comes with the territory. It’s who I am. Who I’ve always been.” Wolfe looked over at Rhys. “And you. That goes for you, too.”
Wolfe shifted, moving directly over to Rhys. Amy could see the tension in his arms, his back. He was coiled tight, the spring inside him dangerously close to breaking. She held her breath, waiting for what he would say.
“I fucking love you. There. I said it. I fucking know exactly how I feel. Exactly what I want.” He glanced back at Amy. “This”—he waved his arm to encompass the three of them—“is exactly what I want. Do y’all get that?”
He was yelling, but Amy could tell he was more frustrated than angry. She understood that because this was all so confusing.
Well.
Not entirely.
There was one thing she knew for certain.
She waited until Wolfe looked at her again.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, still standing a few feet away. Scared to move, scared to breathe. She met Rhys’s gaze next. “And I love you, too.”
Maybe it was all happening too quickly, but she knew you couldn’t put a time limit on love. It happened when it was supposed to happen. Did she trust her heart?
With these two men, she did.
Sure, her choices hadn’t always been spot on, but with Wolfe and Rhys, Amy knew this was where she was meant to be.
However, she realized Rhys hadn’t said anything. Not one single word.
She glanced over at him. She and Wolfe were both staring at him, waiting for him to say something. She could see he wanted to.
“Goddammit,” he grumbled.
She saw the moment he gave in to what he was feeling. He held out his arm to her, and Amy moved toward them. Then Rhys was jerking Wolfe to him, their lips fusing together as Amy was pulled against them.
Her heart swelled dangerously large. It felt as though it would break right out of her chest. Her stomach dropped; every cell in her body was invigorated by what she felt for these two men.
Just like them, she was all in.
And for the first time in what felt like forever, Amy wasn’t scared.
Not of them.
Not of herself.
Not of her decisions or of what tomorrow would bring.
Not of the possession that she felt when they looked at her.
This was what she wanted.
It was vastly different than anything she’d ever known.
It was…
Perfect.
Rhys had never seen Wolfe like this.
Well, not when he wasn’t engaged in a knock-down drag-out, anyhow.
He was practically vibrating.
Wolfe ripped his mouth from Rhys’s, then gripped his head, holding him tightly, their eyes locked.
“Tell me,” Wolfe demanded.
Rhys stared back, swallowing past the lump in his throat.
“Fucking tell me,” Wolfe growled. “I want to hear it.” Wolfe shook his head. “No. I need to hear it.”
Rhys knew exactly what Wolfe wanted to hear. And if he was honest with himself, the words were burning his tongue, desperate to get out. But he held himself back.
Fear gripped him.
Fear of what this would mean for him.
His entire life could be flipped upside down by admitting that he loved these two. Hell, admitting that he loved Wolfe alone could pull the rug right out from underneath him.
Could he do it?
Could he risk everything he’d worked so hard for?
For a chance at a life he’d always dreamed of, a love he’d never thought he would find?
“Fuck,” he grumbled as his heart pinched tightly, his abs contracting as a wave of emotion ripped over him, stealing his breath.
“No?” There was a sadness in Wolfe’s eyes, one that said he could read Rhys’s mind, knew the war he’d waged with himself.
“You can’t say it?”
Rhys didn’t move.
“Because it’s not true?” Wolfe questioned. “Or because you’re fucking scared?”
Still, Rhys sucked in air, his chest expanding as the breaths came faster.
“Because if it’s the latter, we’ll work on that,” Wolfe explained, his tone softening. “We don’t have to make every damn decision right this second. But goddammit, if you fucking love us, I. Have. To. Hear. It.”
Rhys nodded. It was pu
re instinct. “I do.” His voice was a raspy whisper forced out of his body by nothing more than pure emotion. “Yes, damn it. I love you.” He looked at Amy. “I love you, too. I’m just…”
“Scared,” Wolfe finished for him. “We all are.”
All three of them stood there, staring at one another. In that instant, words weren’t necessary. They meant little compared to what was obviously going on here. Whether they admitted it or not, this was where the three of them were meant to be. Rhys’s entire life had been leading to this very moment.
“Goddamn,” Wolfe bit out, jerking Rhys to him, their lips slamming together.
And then Wolfe was moving the three of them toward the bedroom. Wolfe broke the kiss and turned to Amy, grabbing her, lifting her, holding her to him as Wolfe pressed his lips to hers. Her arms went around his neck as she kissed him back.
Rhys could feel the energy swarming them. The tension was intense; the emotions were fueling every movement. Passion, need, and yes, love.
No one could predict what tomorrow would bring, but in this moment, with these two people, Rhys knew there was no place he’d rather be. And if his entire world came crumbling down on him when the sun came up in the morning…
So be it.
Because, as he stared at the two of them, he knew deep in his soul that nothing in this world would ever feel right again without them in it. Not his job, his house, his independence. None of it meant a fucking thing without them.
Wolfe turned back to him and Amy’s eyes locked on his face. It was obvious they were trying to figure out what was holding him back.
“I love you,” he whispered, his eyes darting from one to the other as the words came out easier that time.
“Get over here, Sheriff,” Wolfe commanded. “And put your fucking money where your mouth is.”
Well, when he put it that way…
“What do you think she’ll decide to do?” Reagan asked Lynx as he drove her back to Amy’s.
They’d dropped the detective off at the diner, waited until she got in her car and pulled out before Lynx turned his truck in the direction of Amy’s house.
“No idea,” he answered curtly.
During the drive from his father’s house, the two women had talked softly about what they thought would happen if Amy did go public with what had happened to her.
If he was being honest, Lynx would rather they take care of the threat themselves. No reason they should sit back and wait for the bastard to make another move. And sure, Amy could go public with her story. But what would that do? Rile up the reporters? Have them storming Embers Ridge with their questions and curiosity? Lynx didn’t like that idea.
Nor did he like the idea of this bastard still walking around out there. He needed to be put in the fucking ground for what he did. Any man who put his hands on a woman or child out of anger deserved to be shot. Or hung. Better yet, shot while they were hung.
Lynx must’ve been quiet for too long, because as he pulled down the drive to Amy’s, he saw Reagan turn toward him. He cut his eyes her way briefly. “What?”
“Are we ever gonna talk about what happened?”
He tapped the brakes a little harder than he should have, forcing her to throw her hand out to brace herself on the dashboard. He then brought the truck to a complete stop, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel. “Nothin’ to talk about.”
“Oh, that’s horseshit and you know it,” she countered hotly.
Goddamn, the woman turned him on when she let her temper get the best of her. Fuck, every damn thing she did turned him on.
“You kissed me, Lynx.”
He cocked an eyebrow and turned toward her, dropping one hand to his lap. His dick was like an iron bar, desperate for this woman. All it took was one whiff of her perfume, one glimpse of her perfect fucking body and his dick took complete control of his thought process.
She was right though. He had kissed her. But…
“That was ten years ago,” he argued. “And you were fucking sixteen years old, damn it.”
That’s what he hated about that fucking memory. Reagan Trevino had been his for the taking, right there sitting on the tailgate of his truck. It had been the day of his mother’s funeral, and she was the only person besides his family who had come to check on him. She had sat by the lake with him for hours. They talked about growing up, about his mother specifically, about the memories they both had of her.
And before the damn night was over, Lynx had kissed her.
He’d been eighteen fucking years old and had no business putting his hands on a naïve sixteen-year-old girl. Didn’t matter if Reagan had kissed him back. He should’ve never done it.
So, he’d told himself he would wait until she turned eighteen.
“I’m not sixteen anymore, Lynx.”
No, she wasn’t. But she had a damn boyfriend—
Only she didn’t have one anymore. The day she finally quit that bastard, Lynx had considered chasing her down and convincing her to give in to him, to give in to how fucking good they could be together. The only thing that had stopped him was their history. Reagan always took Billy Watson back. For nearly a decade, Lynx had sat back and watched as Reagan took that dumb little fucker back every damn time, and he figured this time was no different.
“What about Billy?” he asked because he couldn’t help himself. If he was even going to consider putting his hands on this girl, he had to know that Billy was in her past, that he would never be in her future.
“What about him?” Her dark eyebrows angled down, her confusion apparent.
“You gonna take his sorry ass back?”
Her frown turned to a grimace and he could tell he’d pissed her off with that question.
“What does that have to do with this?”
He sat up straight. “Every goddamn thing, Reagan.”
She put her hands on her hips. “How?”
Lowering his voice, Lynx decided to be honest with her. If she thought she could handle him, she needed to know exactly what she was dealing with.
“Because the second I put my hands on you, the instant my mouth touches yours … that makes you mine, Reagan.”
She huffed. “I belong to no man, Lynx Caine. You should know that now.”
“Then it’s a damn good thing I’ve never touched you.”
“No,” Reagan replied hotly. “You’ve only touched every other female in this county.”
Not entirely true, but yeah. He wasn’t a damn saint, and truthfully, he’d been fighting his need for this one woman for so long Lynx could admit that he’d searched high and low for someone who could eliminate her from his thoughts.
He’d yet to meet that woman.
He doubted she existed.
As far as Lynx was concerned, there was only one woman meant for him.
And she was sitting right there in his truck, her lips pursed, her eyes blazing.
And once again, he seriously doubted he would end up getting what he wanted.
Because as much as he wanted to think otherwise, Reagan Trevino was too hard to handle, too much to tame.
Reagan reached for the door handle. “Fuck you, Lynx. Fuck you and the horse you rode in on.”
Lynx didn’t say a word.
She turned to face him once she was out of the truck. “And it’s not like I wanted your hands on me, anyway. I’ve already had one bad boy. I damn sure don’t need another.”
Lynx leaned over and smiled, baring his teeth. “Darlin’, you don’t know what a bad boy is. Billy is a dumb ass who didn’t deserve to be in the same goddamn room as you.”
“But you do?” Her hand flew to her hips again.
“Darlin’, you can’t handle me.”
“Try me, Lynx.”
He shook his head and sat up, turning to look out the front window. “That’s the problem, Reagan. I’m not interested in a taste test.” He looked directly at her. “If I get my hands on you, it will be forever. And until you accept that—”
>
The door slammed and he chuckled as he watched Reagan and her cute little ass march right up to the front door.
One day, that hellcat was going to give in.
It was just a matter of time.
27
__________
Wolfe wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through the next few minutes. He was hanging by a thread, frayed and ready to snap.
Not to mention, completely naked.
“Wolfe…” Amy moaned, pulling his head back down to her breast. “Don’t stop.”
Taking her to the mattress, Wolfe came down over her, his tongue swirling around her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. He wasn’t gentle. Hell, he wasn’t sure he could be. His need was too great, his body on fire, a desperation unlike anything he’d ever known consuming him. There was an undeniable need to possess, to claim and he had them right where he wanted them.
Growling, he pulled off of her breast, then trailed his mouth down her stomach, dipping his tongue in her navel, before stopping at the apex of her thighs.
“Need to taste you,” he groaned.
And that was the God’s honest truth. Wolfe craved Amy’s taste. His tongue itched to caress her sweetness. Hell, he could spend hours driving her wild by burying his face between her thighs. He was addicted, pure and simple.
Sliding his tongue along her slick slit, Wolfe hummed as Amy’s sweet taste lit him up from the inside out. She was liquid fire, squirming against his mouth while Rhys feasted on her tit, sucking hard, his hand flat on Amy’s stomach.
They were both holding her. Not forcefully, but enough to keep her from jerking off the bed. Her hands were fisted in the blankets as though she was attempting to hold on, too. Wolfe knew the feeling. In a minute, once they were both lodged deep inside her body, he was pretty damn sure he was going to fly apart.
And he couldn’t fucking wait.
Crawling back up her body, Wolfe slipped two fingers into her warm, wet pussy, gently fucking her as he laved her other nipple.
“Wolfe … Rhys…” Amy moaned. “It’s too much.”
No, it wasn’t enough. It never would be.
Hard to Hold Page 31
