Complete Abandon by Julia Kent Page B

living it. With Mike’s intense eyes raking over her nearly-nude form, Dylan’s hands effortlessly unclasped her bra, sending shivers down her spine as he moved the lingerie across her shoulders and let it slide, useless and unwanted, to the ground.
    She froze, and it wasn’t from cold. Looking at Dylan, Mike frowned and reached down, one arm going under her knees, the other under her neck and then—she was in his arms.
    “Put me down!” she gasped, impressed by the feel of hard muscle against the back of her knees. You would think she weighed nothing, the way he held her, as if she were a hundred pounds lighter.
    “I’m about to,” he murmured in her ear, eyes closed off, making her feel unsettled. What was this? Depositing her on the bed, Mike nodded to Dylan, who appeared at the headboard with a small box, the size of a laptop computer.
    “What are you doing?” she asked.
    And then silk scarves appeared, the same color as the netting that surrounded her now that she was on top of the down comforter. The feel of the feather bed beneath her nude skin was like being reborn, the comfort and sensuality a balm that cut through her trepidation.
    “What’s this?”
    “You tell us,” Mike said, sitting on the bed next to her. A chill poured over her exposed skin, knees bent and thighs pulled up against her waist. One nipple stretched, lazy and languid, toward the bed spread, her body on display for her fully-clothed and—she now saw—very determined men.
    “Tell you...what?” she asked, sitting up, pulling her knees to her chest. This felt wrong. Different. Not what she’d expected.
    Dylan fingered a silver silk scarf, pulling it between his fingers, the action so powerful and suggestive she found herself licking her lips for no conscious reason. “Shall I be Gideon?” he asked, looking at Mike.
    “Sure. And I can be Cooper.”
    Fuck.
    They knew.
    “Been reading my eReader?” she squeaked, taking a stab in the dark.
    Dylan snapped the silk like a cord, making not so much a sound, but a gesture that left her confused. He didn’t answer her question, but instead asked one of his own, dark hair mussed, mahogany eyes bold and in control. “Do you want a contract?”
    “Contract?” Laura repeated, brain on fire.
    “And a safeword?” Mike crooned.
    “A what—?”
    “Because Laura,” Mike said, interrupting, his own hands now filled with a different silk scarf, this one bright, China red, “we’re the ones who should be your book boyfriends.”
    “And only us,” Dylan growled.
    Book boyfriend ? How did they know that term? How did they know what she’d been reading? Did they read her eReader and find all those erotic romances on it? Gideon? That meant they’d read Sylvia Day’s BDSM books. Cooper? The extraordinary Dom? Oh, God—they’d found Their Virgin Princess —and oh, holy mother of— what was Mike pulling out of that box?
    Was that a vibrating butt plug and a bottle of lube?
    Uhhhh . Her mind went blank. Completely, hopelessly empty.
    Both men now sat on opposite sides of her, twenty throw pillows in various hues of cream piled around them, the netting thrown back so that they lived in a little bubble. A tense, sexually-charged bubble of her own making.
    “So, I can draw up a contract if you’d like,” Dylan said.
    “Why would I want—”
    “Because, Laura.” Mike cut in, his face serious. “You’re getting every fantasy tonight. Right now. Here. You get to have ultimate control by handing over every shred of it to us.”
    Every cell in her body turned from hot to cold, her skin like a live wire.
    “I don’t—they’re just books,” she laughed, her voice tinny and utterly unconvincing. The promise of what they were offering was readable on their faces, both men hard and ready to play out what she’d only read. What they, too , had read. It made her wet to think about it, and she squirmed, trying not to be obvious. “Just something to read while I’m bored,” she choked