Page 78 of The Widow and the Wanted

I hesitate, but Okee reaches a hand toward me in invitation from where he lies stretched beside the fire.

“You needn’t go off,” Okee says. “Come. Join us.”

He catches my hand when I step close enough and gives a gentle pull. I sink down awkwardly at first, and Boone shifts at once to make room.

“Here,” he says, patting the space between them with a chuckle. “Sit proper between your two favorite outlaws.”

My cheeks go hot despite the chill that still clings to the room beyond the hearth as I lower myself between them.

Boone settles close without seeming to think anything of it, one arm slung loose behind me as he stretches back out. Okee draws the blanket up over our legs and tucks the edge near my hip with absent care.

“There,” Boone murmurs. “That’s better.”

For a little while none of us says anything. The fire cracks and hisses. I can feel Boone’s heat through his shirt, and Okee’s shoulder is firm and quiet against my own.

“No sense wasting wood to heat the whole cabin,” Okee says after a time, his voice gone drowsy, breath warming my scalp. It sends gooseflesh trailing down my arms. “Might as well stay here tonight.”

Boone tips his head back against the rug and shuts his eyes. “Fine by me.” Then after a beat, he glances at me. “Long as you don’t mind.”

It ought to feel improper, the three of us before the hearth like this, bedded down in firelight as though such an arrangement were the most natural thing in the world. And yet with the blanket over us and their bodies bracketing mine, the cold kept off on either side, I have never felt less alone.

“I don’t mind,” I say softly.

Boone makes a satisfied sound low in his throat and shifts until his good arm rests easier behind me. Okee leans his head back, eyes already half shut. Between them I let myself ease, little by little, until the tension goes out of me and I am resting there too, held in by the weight of them.

We have done this before.

Once in a wagon with the storm trying to kill us, when I hated them and took their warmth like an insult. Now before the hearth, I yield to it gladly.

When I wake, the fire has burned down to a faint red pulse. The cabin is colder, quieter, except for a soft, irregular sound—something alive, something rhythmic. My eyes adjust slowly. At first I think I’m still dreaming.

They’ve moved.

Boone is now nearest the wall, a body’s length away, on his back beneath Okee. The blanket is shoved down around their hips. In the ember light I can see the long line of Boone’s throat arched, his mouth parted on a silent breath. Okee is above him, braced on one forearm. The firelight radiates off his copper-toned skin, tracing the muscular planes of his arms and back. His long black hair falls forward in a dark curtain, sweeping with each measured roll of his hips, the curve of his sculpted ass flexing.

Oh.

Boone’s legs wrap around Okee’s waist, fingertips digging into his back, then falling away again as if he can’t decide whether to hold on or let go. A broken, relieved moan tears from his throat.

“Okee, please. Fuck me…” Boone begs, hips rolling up to meet every thrust. “God, yes!”

I lie perfectly still on my belly, head resting on my arm, hair strewn across my face. My heart is suddenly loud in my ears. I should close my eyes. I should pretend I’m asleep. Instead my gaze locks on them, helpless to resist.

Okee lifts his head. In the red-brown dark, his gaze finds mine.

“You woke her up,” he says, but his rhythm never falters. His eyes linger on mine for a moment before he lowers his head, mouth finding the side of Boone’s neck, then lower, teeth grazing his collarbone. Boone makes a small, choked sound—half groan, half plea.

The floorboards creak faintly beneath them. The air smells of woodsmoke, sweat, and the sharp, intimate scent of skin and arousal.

My pulse climbs. Heat uncoils low in my belly, uninvited and undeniable.

Boone’s head turns just enough that I catch the flicker of his eyes in the dimness. His gaze is glassy, unfocused, lost in whatever Okee is doing to him.

Between their bodies I catch the shape of Boone’s hard length, bobbing thick and heavy with each thrust.

Okee murmurs something too low for words against Boone’s throat.

A shuddering breath leaves Boone as his fingers tighten again, dragging Okee closer.