“I guess that would be okay. Football’s on tonight,” Royce replied.
Wes was still watching her with far too much interest. Her body was all too aware of it. She was naked beneath the sheets, her wrists were chained to the headboard, and she’d been left alone in a room with two completely masculine men, both of whom made it clear they were interested in her. Why hadn’t Emery given her time to get dressed before he’d chained her to the bed if he knew these guys would be coming over?
She hadn’t forgotten Royce’s comment about a ménage. She tried not to think about what it would be like trapped between him and Wes, sweaty bodies straining, and the soft rush of panting breaths. But as soon as the image was there, it faded beneath a more powerful image of Emery. His hands on her, his body trap
