Chapter 20: Two Hands, Her Rules

Lena's POV

At ten that night, both of them stood in my attic doorway.

Florian had showered and shaved. Vincent had not changed his shirt.

Neither of them said a word.

"Come in," I said. "Shut the door."

They did.

I sat on the end of my bed in a long t-shirt and nothing else, with my knees crossed.

"Here is how this goes," I said. "You don't touch me unless I tell you where."

"Yes," Vincent said.

"And you don't talk, Florian."

"I can't promise that," he said, and then he caught himself. "I'll try."

"You'll be quiet unless I ask you something."

He pressed his lips together and nodded. It was the funniest thing I had seen in a week.

"Take your shirts off," I said.

They did.

Vincent was lean, with a long scar along his ribs.

Florian was freckled from collarbone to belt, with a sunburn line at his waist.

I looked at them for a long time.

"Florian," I said. "Come here. Kneel."

He knelt in front of me on the rug.

"Put your hands on my knees."

His palms were hot. They shook.

"Slowly," I said. "Up my thighs."

He slid them up, and I watched him swallow.

"Stop there."

He stopped.

"Vincent. Behind me. On the bed."

He climbed up and sat at my back, and I leaned against his chest.

His arms stayed at his sides until I took his wrists and set his hands on my ribs.

"Yes," I said. "There."

His breath was warm on my ear.

I looked down at Florian.

"Pull my t-shirt up," I said. "All the way."

He did. The cotton went over my head, and Vincent lifted it away.

Florian stared at me.

Keep reading free with an account. Start Four Men Thought I Was Unconscious, Now They Wait for My Yes from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.