Page 57
“You don’t need to prove anything.”
“I know.”
“Then tell us what you need.”
Sloane looks at me.
“Slower.”
I nod.
“At first.”
I smile beneath the mask.
“There’s my greedy girl.”
She pushes my shoulder.
“Your confidence is annoying.”
“You screamed my name twice.”
“Rhys made me scream louder.”
“Callum practically shook the roof.”
The Scarecrow pulls her against his chest.
“She screamed my name.”
I rise between her legs.
“Are we keeping score?”
“Yes,” they answer together.
Sloane starts laughing again. That fucking sound. It makes the chapel less haunted. Makes the night feel like something that could continue after our masks come off. I touch her cheek.
“Ready?”
Her laughter fades into desire.
“Yes.”
Rhys retrieves three foil packets and the bottle of lubricant from the altar. Callum’s attention moves toward him. The atmosphere changes. Playful hunger becomes something heavier. This is the fantasy Sloane described in detail before she knew which men would fulfill it. Rhys places everything within reach. Then he looks at her.
“You decide who.”
Her eyes travel over us. The Reaper. The Devil.
The Scarecrow.
Her choice comes slowly.
“Rhys in front.”
He nods.
