Ava's POV
The footsteps outside the dressing-room curtain stopped right as Lucas’s fingers hovered at the top of the slit.
Marcus’s hand tightened on my hip, his breath warm against my neck. “Don’t move,” he whispered, voice low and rough. “Not until we’re ready.”
Lucas’s fingers finally traced higher, slow and deliberate, the satin sliding under his touch like liquid heat. “She’s already shaking for us,” he murmured, eyes locked on mine in the mirror. “Look at you… our perfect woman getting ready for the world.”
The footsteps resumed, fading down the hall. Relief washed over me, but the ache between my legs refused to fade.
The gala was in full swing when I stepped into the ballroom.
Crystal chandeliers dripped light across the polished marble floor. Live jazz filled the air with s
