“No.” Ricky laughed. “That would be awkward.”
“Good, because if you’re asking me what I want…”
“I am.”
“I want to live in your kisses. For the next hour. For the rest of the night. For as long as we’re here. Watching your mouths move together…” Her breath stuttered. “It’s freeing. Makes me forget I’m in prison.”
The electricity in her words fueled the fire inside him. A fire that burned for his best friend.
His gaze lifted, but Martin was already leaning in. Bent over her chest, he grabbed Ricky’s neck and slammed their lips together.
Their tongues met and retreated. Then they clashed again in a possessive duel, whipping and licking and cutting with teeth.
Martin went wild, feeding the flames that roared between them. His fist pulled Ricky’s hair as his tongue thrust frantically, relentlessly, fucking Ricky’s mouth with brutal strokes. Desire rose and swelled, untamed and ravenous.
Then he broke away, his chest heaving, and his face contorted in torment.
His distress was a knife through Ricky’s heart.
“Are you okay?” She reached for Martin.
“Yeah.” He let her touch his jaw, and the contact seemed to chase his demons back to wherever they came from. The shadows in his eyes receded, and the cords in his neck relaxed.
No wonder he was celibate. He was navigating around a switch inside him. When it flipped on, it went full throttle, barreling him into a vicious sexual rage.
Ricky wanted him rough, ruthless, and out of control, but not if it caused Martin pain. He needed to figure out how to ease Martin forward without taking too many agonizing steps back.
“I know you said you don’t have an issue with touching.” She leaned up on an elbow, her brows knitted as she searched Martin’s face. “But you have a past like mine, don’t you? It helps to talk about—”
“No.” Martin glared at her.
She drew back, her shoulders hitching toward her ears.
Ricky shot Martin a disapproving look. “It’s not you, Tula. He hasn’t told me anything about his life before I met him. He keeps that shit locked down.”
“Until he’s in an intimate situation.” Her eyes darted through the room before returning to Martin. “Does it affect all your sexual relationships? Or is it just us?”
Martin’s nostrils flared, and Ricky held his breath.
“I’m sorry.” She cringed. “That was too personal.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Martin softened his expression and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s not you. But there’s definitely something about you. I don’t know what it is…” He stared at her as if utterly gobsmacked. “I haven’t had sex in seven years, and I can’t for the life of me figure out why I just told you that.”
Compassion soaked her quiet eyes, her face a portrait of unguarded trust.
“That’s why.” He trailed a finger along her cheekbone and looked up at Ricky. “You see what I see?”
“Yeah, I see her.”
She was too trusting. While it was a trait that made overprotective guys like him and Martin want to throat-punch any man who looked at her, it didn’t belong in a place like this.
Trusting the wrong person in Jaulaso would get her killed, and she put a helluva lot of trust in Hector La Rocha.
“See what?” Her voice lowered with suspicion. “What do you see?”
“You’re an inherently good person.” Ricky stroked her hair. “Because of that, you see goodness in others, even when it doesn’t exist.”
Her eyes flared. “That’s another way of calling me naive.”
She sat up and started to scramble out from between them.
Martin gripped her leg and yanked her down to her back as Ricky bent over her.
“Don’t overreact.” He nipped at her lips.
“I’m not,” she growled, twisting her hips in Martin’s hold.
“You’re overreacting.” Ricky curled a hand beneath her jaw. “No one said you’re naive. I’ll reserve that label for our conversation about Hector’s sex trafficking operation.”
Anger sparked in her eyes, and her mouth opened. He silenced her with a finger against her lips.
“Not tonight.” He slid his hand down her neck and traced the hollow of her throat. “Tonight, we’re going to give you what you want.”
Her swallow bobbed against his touch. “You think you can subdue me with kisses?”
“Totally.”
She flung a questioning look at Martin.
“My money’s on Ricky,” Martin said.
“Do you even have any money?” She cocked a brow.
They had millions in the bank because of Van, but that was a detail they couldn’t share.
Martin answered her with a mysterious smile. He didn’t share those smiles often, so when one appeared, it was disarming.
She sighed beneath it. “I don’t understand how the two most attractive men on the planet ended up here, in prison, with me. It defies the laws of the universe. Can you explain it to me?”
She would lose her mind if she saw all the Freedom Fighters together.
Van Quiso and Liv Reed had handpicked every single one of them based on the slave buyers’ specifications. Physical beauty was always a requirement.