Get the fuck out of my way, Lincoln,” I mutter under my breath as I stare past him, working so hard not to scream that my words are barely audible.
“No. Jesus, Low. You shouldn’t be going to the prison on a fucking bus. You should at least—”
“I swear to God, if you tell me not to go visit my mom, I’ll kick you in the balls so hard you’ll be a soprano for the rest of your life.”
My hands scrabble for the button and fly of his jeans, and I work them down carefully as our lips stay fused together. His cock is hard and smooth in my palm, and God, I really did miss this.
He’s right.
There is no only.
I could’ve fucked him yesterday, and my hand would still be shaking, still moving over the velvet-smooth skin with ravenous need. I glide my fingers up and down his shaft a few times, and Lincoln’s hips jerk. He shakes his head, a deep noise rumbling in his chest.
“Goddammit, Low. Get on my fucking dick.”
“You’re important to me, Low.” The dark-haired boy licks his lips and his amber eyes darken, as if he can still taste me on his skin. Then he shakes his head, amending his statement. “You’re important to all of us. We won’t let you deal with this shit alone.”
His words and tone, the way he says “all of us”, does something strange to my heart, and my core clenches hard around him, making him groan and tighten his grip on my ass. Thoughts of the other three kings of Linwood—of the way they look at me, talk to me, and touch me—filter through my head, sending a cascade of emotions through me.
“No more secrets, right?” I murmur, catching Linc’s gaze.
He cocks his head, narrowing his eyes. “Right.”
“Then can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Have the four of you ever… shared?”
I swallow down the lump in my throat, grinning back at Chase. “Thanks.”
He waggles his eyebrows, loosening his tie before pulling it off entirely. When he starts unbuttoning his shirt, I glance at the other guys to see that they’re all doing the same.
“Um, what…?”
“You can’t really have a pool party without getting in the pool, Low,” Chase tells me, as if that should be perfectly fucking obvious.
He finishes unbuttoning his shirt and tugs the ends from his slacks.
The others are all doing the same, and when River’s hands move to unbuckle his belt and flick the button open on his pants, my heart rate kicks up into high gear.
He kicks off his shoes, leaving his pants unbuttoned and unzipped while he reaches down to tug off his socks. And then the pants go too, and he’s left in nothing but a pair of nice black boxer briefs that leave way too little to the imagination.
My teeth clamp down hard on my bottom lip as I watch, waiting to see if anything else is going to come off, torn between hope and panic at the thought that it might.
“Dude. I think your dick hypnotized her,” Chase says with a laugh, and my entire body jerks as I rip my gaze away from River’s crotch.
Motherfucker. I was full-on staring at his dick, like I was waiting for it to do a magic trick.
Or… something.
A heavy flush makes my face burn, and I shake my head, about to call Chase out for being an asshole—but when I glance over at him, there’s so much heat in his eyes alongside the humor that the words die on my lips. My flush grows deeper, but now the reason for it is entirely different.
All the guys stopped at their underwear, not taking off more than that.
Lincoln’s hands find mine, and he tangles our fingers together, tugging me a little closer to him. The pool water is cool, but I can feel the heat of four large male bodies filling the space around me, and when Linc’s chest brushes against mine, my nipples harden instantly.
He’s directly in front of me, capturing me with his steady, enigmatic amber gaze. The twins ended up on either side of me, sandwiching me like they did the night I kissed Chase.
River is behind me, and it’s his hands that I feel first, resting lightly on the swell of my hips. Then Dax’s fingertips run down my arm under the water, and the light touch makes me shiver.
As I watch, he rises in a smooth movement, and it turns my blood to ice.
The man in the mask. The man in the dark car who slammed into Iris and then checked to make sure she was dead before speeding off into the night—he moved like that.
If I hadn’t seen the fox first, I might not have noticed it or might have brushed it off.
But I did see it. The fucking thing is still staring at me with its beady, dead eyes. And I know that this time, I’m not wrong.
Judge Hollowell killed Iris.
He strides toward me, his socked feet as silent as a predator’s on the polished hardwood floor. His brows are still drawn together and oh, fuck, does he know that I know?