Chapter 160
Emily's POV
Alex followed us down the hall, and Mason trailed behind after setting the dishes in the sink. They were all moving with that same unified purpose, like they'd silently agreed on the plan and now they were just executing it.
Ethan set me down on the bed gently, and I realized with a start that at some point that morning they'd stripped the sheets and remade it with fresh linens. The room smelled clean and faintly of lavender, and I wondered who'd thought to do that—who'd taken the time to make this space comfortable while I was falling apart.
"Sleep," Alex said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "We'll be right here."
"You don't have to—" I started, but he just raised an eyebrow.
"Yes, we do."
I wanted to protest. Wanted to tell them they were being ridiculous, that I wasn't going to shatter if they left me alone for five minutes. But the truth was, I didn't want them to go. I wanted exactly this—the three of them close by, solid and real and safe.
So I just nodded and let Ethan pull the covers over me. Mason sat down on the other side of the bed, his hand finding mine under the blankets, and I looked at them—all three of them arranged around me like guards, like anchors, like everything I didn't know I needed.
And then something shifted inside me. A realization that cut through the fog of exhaustion and fear.
I didn't want to sleep. I didn't want to close my eyes and sink back into nightmares. I didn't want the next few hours to be defined by what my father had done to me, by the terror and the helplessness and the sick weight of old trauma settling back into my bones.
I wanted something else. Something that would rewrite the ache in my body. Something that would replace the memory of violence with something infinitely better.
"Wait," I said, and all three of them went still, attention snapping to me with that focused intensity. "I—I don't want to sleep right now."
Alex's eyes narrowed slightly. "Emily, you need rest—"
"I know what I need." The words came out stronger than I expected, and I pushed myself up to sitting, ignoring the way my ribs protested. "And right now, what I need is—" I looked between them, my pulse kicking up for an entirely different reason. "You're all here. The three of you. That doesn't happen often. And I don't want to waste it hiding under covers and letting him win."
Ethan's hand came up to cup my face, his thumb stroking gently over the bruise on my cheekbone. "What are you saying?"
I met his eyes, then Alex's, then Mason's. "I'm saying we shouldn't let him ruin this. Our lives. What we have together. And I need—" I swallowed hard, forcing myself to be honest. "I need you to help me forget. I need the ache in my body to come from something good. From pleasure instead of pain. From being worshipped instead of hurt."
The air in the room shifted immediately. I watched understanding dawn on their faces—Ethan's eyes darkening with heat, Alex's expression sharpening with focus, Mason's breath catching in a way that made my stomach clench.
"Are you sure?" Alex asked quietly. "Emily, you've been through—"
"I'm sure." I reached out and took his hand, pulling him closer. "I need this. I need you. All of you. Please."
For a long moment no one moved. And then Ethan stood in one fluid motion, scooping me up into his arms with that easy strength that never failed to make me feel small and protected and utterly safe.
"Then that's what you'll get," he murmured against my hair as he carried me the few steps to lay me back down in the center of the bed. "Whatever you need, Em. Always."
They surrounded me then—Ethan on one side, Alex on the other, Mason kneeling at the foot of the bed—and I felt my breath quicken in anticipation. This was what I needed. Not sleep. Not rest. But this—the three of them focused entirely on me, ready to take me apart and put me back together in the best possible way.
Alex leaned in first, his mouth finding the curve of my neck with devastating precision. He kissed the spot just below my ear that always made me shiver, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before his tongue soothed the sting. "We're going to take care of you," he whispered. "Going to make you forget everything except how good we make you feel."
Ethan's hand slid under my shirt, his palm warm against my ribs as he carefully mapped the unmarked skin. "Tell us if anything hurts," he said softly. "We'll go slow. We'll be careful."
"I don't want careful," I breathed. "I want—I want to feel good. I want to feel alive."
Mason's hands were on my ankles, sliding up my calves with reverent attention. "You are alive," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You're here. You're ours. And we're going to show you exactly how much that means."
They moved in concert then, stripping away my clothes with practiced efficiency. Ethan lifted my shirt over my head while Alex worked my pants down my hips, and Mason hooked his fingers into my underwear and slid them off with aching slowness. Within seconds I was bare beneath them, exposed and vulnerable and wanting.
Alex's mouth found mine in a kiss that was both demanding and worshipful, his tongue sliding against mine with deliberate slowness. His hand cupped my breast, and I gasped into his mouth as his thumb began to circle my nipple—light at first, teasing, and then with more pressure as it hardened under his touch. He rolled the peaked bud between his fingers, tugging gently, and I felt the sensation shoot straight down to my core.
"Already responding," he murmured against my lips, his voice dark with satisfaction. "I can feel your heart racing."