Chapter Forty One
Nora's P.O.V
“Because to us,” Killian finished, his tone rough, “you’re everything.”
Killian stepped in behind me without a word, the warmth of his chest pressing to my back as his hands found my hips—steady, grounding, possessive. His
breath tickled my neck, low and even, but I could feel the restraint in him like a storm on a leash.
Then Leo stepped forward, his eyes locked on mine, fierce and burning. He reached out, his hand cradling my jaw with surprising tenderness, thumb brushing
my cheek. “You have no idea,” he murmured, “what you do to us.”
And then he kissed me.
His mouth claimed mine like I was something he’d ached for—something sacred and stolen all at once. Behind me, Killian’s fingers tightened just slightly at my
waist, like he felt it too, like the connection between us was being carved into the moment.
I felt surrounded—not trapped, not overwhelmed—but held.
Leo pulled back only a breath. “Still sure?” he whispered.
My answer was in the way I leaned in again—wanting.
Killian’s voice rumbled behind me, low and dark. “Then let us show you what it means to be ours.”
Killian’s lips brushed my shoulder, slow and deliberate, the heat of him a steady presence behind me. His hands slid from my hips down to the curve of my
thighs, fingers tracing the edges of my dress like he was memorizing every line, every inch.
Leo’s eyes didn’t leave mine. He wasn’t smiling now—he was watching. Reading me. Making sure I was still with them, still choosing this.
“I’ve never shared,” he said, voice rough around the edges, “but for you… I’ll learn how.”
The honesty in that hit me harder than the heat in his gaze.
Killian leaned in, his breath against my ear. “We don’t take from you, Nora. We give. Everything. So, if you say stop—”
“I won’t,” I whispered, cutting him off.
And I meant it.
Killian’s hand moved with purpose, his fingers brushing the base of my spine as they found the zipper at the back of my dress. The sound it made—slow,
deliberate—seemed impossibly loud in the charged silence.
I didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.
His other hand stayed at my waist, anchoring me to him as the fabric loosened and slipped lower with every inch he drew down. Each motion was patient,
controlled—but his breath against the side of my neck told a different story.
In front of me, Leo’s gaze followed every shift in my posture. Not possessive—present. His hand still held mine, thumb stroking over my knuckles like he could
calm the rush of blood just under my skin.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
“Not from fear,” I whispered.
Killian’s lips ghosted over my shoulder, and the dress fell to my waist.
“This isn’t about control,” he said low against my skin. “It’s about surrender—and not just yours.”
Leo stepped closer, brushing hair from my face. “We’re giving it too,” he said. “All of it.”
And between them—caught in the heat, the weight, the intensity of two men who saw every inch of me—I didn’t feel small.
I felt chosen.
The fabric slipped past my hips, whispering against my skin as it fell. A hush, and then the soft sound of it hitting the floor.
Killian’s hand stayed at my waist, firm, unmoving. Like he needed the contact just to breathe right. His mouth hovered near my ear, his voice a growl barely
held back. “You undo me.”
In front of me, Leo’s eyes dropped, dragging slowly down my body, the hunger in them unmistakable—but what struck me more was the awe.
He reached out, fingers skimming my bare side, not rushing, not taking—just feeling. Like he wanted to be sure this was real.
Standing there in nothing but my bra and underwear, I smiled. “ I feel a little underdressed.”
Killian’s smirk was slow, wicked, but his eyes—his eyes were molten. “Then we’ll level the playing field,” he murmured.
Leo didn’t say a word. He simply tugged his shirt over his head in one clean motion, tossing it aside. The lines of his chest caught the light—tattoos, muscle,
and tension coiled beneath every inch of him.
Killian followed, shrugging off his jacket with a fluid motion, then unbuttoning his shirt like every movement was calculated to drive me mad. His body was
sculpted and scarred—strength without apology. And both of them looked at me.
“Still feel underdressed?” Leo asked, voice low, teasing—but laced with heat.
I tilted my head, biting my bottom lip. “Not anymore.”
They stepped closer again—bare chests, bare intentions—and I felt the air between us shift.
Killian’s fingers found the clasp of my bra, and with one practiced motion, it came undone. The straps slid from my shoulders like silk, falling away without a
sound.
Leo was already there, stepping into the space between us, his hands on my waist, his mouth claiming mine before I could draw my next breath. The kiss was
deep, consuming, a slow burn that had me leaning into him before I even realized I was moving.
Killian’s hands moved with purpose, sliding up my sides until they found the curve of my breasts. His touch was confident, knowing exactly how to coax a
response from me. A sharp breath escaped my lips as his fingers brushed over sensitive skin, teasing, testing.
Leo didn’t stop kissing me—his mouth moved to my jaw, then down to the hollow of my throat, his hands still holding my hips like he was anchoring us all in
this moment.
I was surrounded by heat, by control barely restrained. Every brush of skin against mine sent a new shockwave through me.
Leo’s lips brushed my ear, breath hot. “On the bed, Nora.” His voice was low, firm—not demanding.
Killian stepped back with him, both of them watching me like they were starving, like I was something holy laid bare just for them.
I didn’t hesitate.
I turned, climbed onto the bed, the silk sheets cool against my skin as I settled onto my back, hair spilling out around me. My breath came shallow, chest rising
and falling with anticipation.
I looked at them—both standing at the edge of the bed now, shirtless, eyes dark, fierce, locked on me like I was something they’d both kill for.
And I was.
The silence stretched, heavy and electric, and then Killian’s voice—cut through it.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “You have no idea what you do to us.”
And I smiled—because I did.
Killian stretched out beside me, his hand finding mine, grounding me with the rough heat of his palm against my wrist. His other hand slid to my waist, thumb
brushing slow, steady circles into my skin.
Leo moved with silent purpose, settling between my legs, eyes never leaving mine as his fingers traced up the inside of my thighs—slow, teasing. When he
reached the lace, his touch lingered there for a moment, a silent question in the way his fingertips curled around the fabric.