Some spark of excitement in Verity’s expression collapses into desperation. “Because you're ours,” she says, plucking a wet kiss from his parted lips. “Aren’t you?” “I’m…” Wicker stutters, reaching back to clutch my thigh. “Fuck. Fuck, Pace, I’m going to—” “Wait,” I grunt, reaching around to hold him. My mouth slides against the curve of his cheek. “Come with us.”
