Page 138 of Gunnar

Gunnar wraps his arms around me and pulls me down onto his lap.

“This is better,” I murmur, close to his ear.

“Much,” he agrees, drawing me closer.

I rest my hand against his chest, feeling the steady rumble of his breathing.

Torin sprawls across the other end of the sofa, one foot hooked over the arm.

Orson sits back in the chair, his attention fixed on the fire.

I look between them, warmth spreading through me.

“Worth it,” I say.

Gunnar brushes his mouth against my hair.

“Yeah.”

“You see Orson’s face as we left?” I say, unbuttoning my shirt.

Gunnar leans against the wall, watching me. “What about it?”

“It was kind of contorted.”

He laughs. “That was Orson being happy.”

“Oh.” I grin. “I thought he’d pulled a muscle or something.”

“He was trying hard not to show it. He’s probably terrified we’re going to redecorate his room next.”

“And we are,” I say, tossing my shirt onto the chair and reaching for my jeans.

He sucks in a breath.

“Good luck with that.”

“I’ll be subtle. Maybe I’ll tell him it’ll impress a woman.”

Gunnar snorts. “Orson? Find a mate? Never gonna happen.”

I tilt my head. “Even humans say there’s someone for everyone.”

“That’s because they’ve never met my brothers.”

“Fate works in mysterious ways.”

I throw my jeans onto the chair too. I’m reaching for the clasp on my bra when I catch the look in his eyes.

Gunnar pushes off the wall and comes toward me.

His hands go around my waist and he draws me in until our bodies meet.

“You’re not subtle,” he says.

“I am,” I reply. “You just don’t notice.”

His mouth curves before he leans in and kisses me, slow and deliberate.