Crying out for more, she thrust her breasts forward, pleading for something. Idly, Xander wondered if the next sensation would drive her over the edge and give them a reason to punish her for the fun of it.

“That was so good, belleza.”

“And so brave,” Javier added. “Thank you for your trust.”

She gave them a shaky nod, her trembling body a plea all its own.

“Relax. If you’re good, we’ll heap pleasure on you soon.”

“Hurry. Please . . .”

Xander gave his brother a glance and a jerk of his head toward London. Javier nodded, and together, they pulled the clamps from her sensitive nipples. In seconds, she screamed as the blood rushed back in. Simultaneously, they bent to lick and gently suck her nipples, giving her just a little bit of succor. London cried out. And even though they’d awakened every nerve ending in her body, she held back her orgasm.

Javier beamed at her, looking every bit as proud as he felt. “Excellent. You’re so good.”

But now came the biggest test of all.

Xander pressed his body against hers, and she hissed at the contact of his hot chest against her warmed skin. Fresh tears fell, ripping right into his heart. God, if she gave them the chance, they’d make everything all better for her. She’d never have to worry again for a day in her life about being alone or unsure. She belonged with them; he knew it all the way down to his marrow. Hopefully, after tonight, she would believe that, too.

Capturing her lips with his, he ravaged her mouth. The kiss wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t sweet. But it was raw and needy. That kiss staked a claim. Hoping to fuck she understood and trusted them enough for what came next, he twined his tongue around hers once more, thrusting a pair of fingers over her clit. Javier reached between them to pinch her nipples. She surged against him—her body, her tongue, her need—arching to them as much as her restraints allowed. London was so ready.

“Beautiful,” Xander crooned. “Do you want to come?”

“Yes!” She couldn’t blurt the word out fast enough. “Yes, Sir.”

“We want you to. And once you do, belleza . . . Oh, baby, we’re going to make you do it again with our tongues before we fuck you. You want that?”

London panted. “Y-yes, Sir! Please. Please . . . yes.”

He looked over at Javier. His brother nodded back. They were still on the same page. Excellent.

Together, they reached up to release her wrists. She sagged against the cross as they knelt to her ankles and freed them as well. Blinking, she watched them, perspiration filming her skin, her eyes pleading.

“We’re here for you, little one,” Javier vowed, then pointed across the room. “All you have to do is walk to that bed across the room.”

***

LONDON froze. Cross the floor naked, with nothing to cover her scars?

“Less than ten steps, belleza,” Xander encouraged, holding out his hand. “You can do it. And when you do, we’re going to be so proud of you.”

She wanted that, along with the pleasure they promised. Her pussy throbbed endlessly. Their beaming smiles always made her glow inside. She’d do anything for their approval—except what they’d demanded. What if she followed their command and, instead of accepting smiles, she saw horrified gapes instead? What if they walked out the door?

Her gaze darted from them to the bed across the room. They flicked up to the bright overhead lights. She shuddered. In her head, she knew they wouldn’t be that cruel, at least not to her face. But what if her ugly truth tainted their feelings for her? After all, they wouldn’t be the first men who’d been repelled at the sight of her back. She couldn’t really blame them; she hated the sight of it, too. And still her clit pounded in need . . .

“Turn off the lights.” She knew she wasn’t the Dom and had no right to make demands. But they knew her well. They must know how much this terrified her.

“No,” Xander answered, his voice so gentle that she wanted to cry.

Maybe they didn’t understand her hesitation. “But if I do that, you’ll see . . .”

“Your back? Yes, that’s the point. I don’t get off on knife or fire play usually. And mind fucks that involve fear are never my idea of a turn-on. But tonight, belleza, I’ve been all kinds of aroused by your dazzling trust so far. Don’t stop now.”

“Think about it, little one,” Javier jumped in. “A knife and an open flame have so much more potential to hurt you. We only want to see. Just walk across the room. We won’t touch you, if you’re not comfortable,” Javier added. “We’ll want to. But whatever you need, we’re here for you.”

A pretty speech, but . . . She bit her lower lip, backing up against the cross, fear an icy-hot sear through her blood. If the big X hadn’t been sanded and coated in a glossy stain, the move probably would have dug splinters under her skin.

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Xander asked softly.

Was he kidding? “You’ll know how ugly I am.”

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and one rained down her cheek. She wanted to trust them. This was hurting her because she knew how disappointed they were, but couldn’t they understand? Of course not. They were beautiful, wealthy, smart, funny, and damn near perfect. She alone had the red, puckered tracks of tragedy raked across her skin.

Xander looked again at Javier, a silent question. Should they back down? Hope buoyed inside London, but Javier dashed it, shaking his head and looking as resolute as ever.

“You’ll never be ugly to us, little one,” Javier assured. “But we can’t let you hide.”

“Can I take my hair down?” Her voice trembled, whined. “Please.”

Xander looked like he wanted to relent, but finally shook his head. “We can’t allow you to keep using that crutch. You won’t overcome your fear like that. Off the cross, sub. Walk across the room. Now, or face punishment.”

He was probably right. She had to get over this fear. If this relationship was going to last even another few weeks, she couldn’t keep hiding from them. If she showed them now and they shrank away in disgust, it would hurt like hell, but she’d know, right?

London drew in a huge shuddering breath and took a half-step away from the cross. She mustered up her determination, clenched her fists.

Pretty justifications, but . . .

“I-I can’t.” She shrank back.

God, she felt like a coward. Small and weak and every bit as fragile and confused as the girl who’d awakened from that coma to find that her life had utterly changed. Only now, it was worse. She was letting down two men she loved.

Yes, she loved them . . . and she still couldn’t expose herself this way. She was going to disappoint them regardless. Why not stay safe doing it?

Javier narrowed those piercing blue eyes at her. “Can’t, sub? Or won’t?”

“We’re deeply disappointed, London.” Xander looked ready to tear the big steel door down with his bare hands. Or maybe he looked ready to grab her shoulders and beg. Anger and pain and defeat tightened his features.

That she could reduce these wonderful, proud men to this kind of angst shamed her to the core. And even that couldn’t make her give them what they so desperately wanted from her. Was she so damn broken that she shouldn’t be wasting their time at all?

At the thought, she ripped out the clip in her hair and let it cover her back as she dropped to her knees and began sobbing.

“London?” Javier asked.

She heard his steps coming closer and shook her head furiously. He couldn’t see her. He couldn’t touch her. Neither of them could or she would fall apart.

“Ford,” she croaked out the word, then looked up to find their faces frozen and stricken.

Hating herself, she backed away from the cross and grabbed the trench coat from the table Javier had placed it on when they’d entered the room. As she donned it, she ached to go to them, let their arms enfold her, feel them around her again. But if she couldn’t be the woman they needed, she had to stop wasting their time.

“I’m sorry.”

Turning, she wrenched the door open and ran out.

Chapter Seventeen

LONDON had barely run three feet out the door when she bumped into a solid wall of flesh. Heart pumping, tears flowing, she looked up, blinking against the club’s harsh lights.

Thorpe towered over her.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” She tried not to sniffle and failed. “Excuse me.”

When she tried to race around him, he grabbed her arm. He might look elegant, but under that impeccable suit and those cool gray eyes, he was shrewd and far stronger than she expected.

“Did you use your safe word?”

How had he guessed? Though her head was full of landmines exploding with pain and regret, she managed to nod.

He sighed. “Come with me.”

She followed because he really left her little choice. When he didn’t lead her immediately back to Javier and Xander, but rather down another hallway and through a door he unlocked with a key, then up a flight of stairs, London was more puzzled and relieved than worried.

“You’re obviously upset. Would you like to talk about it?”

The room was dim, but she caught sight of a plush chocolate velvet sofa. It invited her to curl up and sob her eyes out, but the man standing in front of her demanded an answer with nothing more than his direct stare and a raised brow.

“No, Sir.”

What else could she say? She was a coward who’d failed the two men she loved. She lacked the courage to believe that anyone could overlook her flaws enough to care for her, scars and all. She didn’t have the strength to risk seeing the horror on their faces. Maybe she wasn’t giving them enough credit. Maybe it wouldn’t matter to them. But it mattered to her. She wanted to be perfect for them.

And she never would be.

The thought caved her chest in until she thought she would implode. She curled her arms around herself and couldn’t quite stand upright as another sob wracked her.

Suddenly, warm arms wrapped around her, and Thorpe crooned in her ear. God, he even smelled expensive. The inane thought came from nowhere as he led her to a sleek leather club chair near a huge wall of tinted windows that overlooked the interior of the club.

He set her in the chair, then rose and poured a crystal decanter full of an amber liquid. He handed it to her. “Drink.”

Clearly, he spent a lot of time in this room, overseeing Dominion.

London clutched the glass. She really wasn’t supposed to drink with her medication, but the whole night was irrevocably in ruins, so what the hell? She lifted the glass to her lips and gulped down the contents, barely tasting. It smelled like alcohol, soft spices, with a hint of something floral. It burned gently going down. Best of all, it infused her with warmth right away. A moment later, it made her head slightly fuzzy. And it relaxed her. Ahhh . . .

“Thank you.” She glanced up at him gratefully.

Thorpe smiled wryly. “You’re welcome. Most people savor a glass of Cuvée 1888, but if the cognac calmed you, that’s good enough for me.”

She winced. Chugging very expensive booze was a no-no. “Sorry, Sir.”

He waved her off and looked out the window, into the leather – and latex-clad crowd below with an overseer’s stare. “Did they hurt you or force you past your limits?”

“No.”

“Good. If you’d rather not talk, I respect that, but for your safety, I can’t let you wander the dungeon floor without a Dom at your side or a collar around your neck. You’ll be eaten alive.”

London flushed and was thankful the room was probably too dark for Thorpe to see. She should have thought of that. It was a sex club, and with this many potential predators roaming about, she should have realized that some Doms might construe her as prey.

“Of course. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Neither were Xander and Javier. Clearly.”

“I ran out and—”

“They allowed it.”

Yes, they had. Because she’d disappointed them—probably for the last time. Worse, if she had to make the choice again, nothing would change. A crushing sadness pressed down on her shoulders. It wasn’t as if they loved her or anything even close. Somehow, she needed to move on. They would.

And not for anything would she confess all this to the elegant, perfect stranger before her.

“I should go. Would you escort me out?” She rose to her feet on wobbly knees.

Thorpe zipped a pointed stare directly at her. London sat again, and he nodded with satisfaction.

“Would you like me to call a taxi for you?”

She’d left her purse—her phone, her meds, her money—back at the hotel room. Stupid, stupid, stupid. “No, thank you. I’ll walk.” Where to, she had no idea.

“You’re not walking alone in this neighborhood.” His stern expression backed that up. “And contrary to what you’re thinking, Xander and Javier don’t appear willing to leave without you.”