If Dillon wasn’t holding so tight to her head, she would have torn herself away and screamed her climax. It rolled over her and through her with excruciating force. She flew in about forty directions and lost awareness of everything but her endless release.

She slumped into Dillon, but he held her, his fingers gently stroking over her cheek as his thrusts gentled. She became aware of the two men still driving into her, Seth more urgently than Dillon.

With a guttural shout, Seth came, his fingers dug into her hips as he held her against his throbbing, pulsing cock.

Below her, Dillon stiffened and began thrusting upward, holding her firmly. Warm semen spilled into her mouth, spurting with each push.

She swallowed rapidly, taking everything he had to give, wanting more as his erection slid over her lips.

Then to her surprise, Michael was back, this time pushing into her swollen pussy, his erection not as rigid as last time, but still hard and forceful. How could he recover so quickly?

She moaned as Dillon’s cock slipped from her mouth and once again he cradled her head on his lap, soothing and caressing her face with gentle hands as he waited for Michael to finish.

Michael didn’t last nearly as long this time. He pumped against her without the patience he’d exhibited when he’d fucked her ass. After several more thrusts, he forced himself deep and held onto her as his body convulsed and his hips spasmed.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to the center of her back before carefully withdrawing.

Dillon immediately pulled her from the arm of the couch and into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She sucked in air, trying to catch her breath after such a volatile ride. She huddled against Dillon as he pressed kisses to the top of her head and smoothed his hands up and down her body in gentle strokes.

After a moment, the dreamy euphoria started to fade and she gained more awareness of her surroundings. The reassuring thud of Dillon’s heartbeat against her ear comforted her. Made her feel safe and secure.

Then she moved, pushing her legs up so that she was snuggled a little closer to Dillon, and she felt warm stickiness between her legs.

Panic raced through her chest, and her pulse ratcheted up, kicking and pounding at her chest. She twisted free of Dillon and reached down, sliding her hand between her legs. Then she brought her hand up to see semen glistening from her fingers.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “No. No, no, no!”

Chapter Thirty-One

Lily scrambled to her feet, still holding the hand in front of her, unable to look away.

“Lily, honey, what’s wrong?” Seth demanded as he stepped to her.

Dillon bolted from the couch, reaching for his pants.

Her hand shook as she stared dumbly at the moisture, slick on her fingers.

“Did you use a condom?” she demanded in a nearly shrill voice. She turned to Michael. “Did you?”

Oh God, she was going to be ill. Her entire body shook now, and Dillon wrapped his arms around her, trying to pull her close, but she twisted away, her gazed fixed on Seth and Michael.

“Yeah, I did,” Seth said. “Of course, I did. I wouldn’t do that to you, Lily. You said you wanted them.”

“I did too,” Michael said in a strained voice.

“Then what is this?” she asked, thrusting her hand forward.

Seth swore. “One of them must have broken.” He hurried toward the trash can just a few feet away and stared down. Then he gingerly pulled one out and stared back at Lily with regret and apology in his eyes.

“It broke, honey,” he said in a low voice. “One of them broke. I’m sorry.”

She bolted for the bathroom, went inside and locked the door. She turned on the shower, knowing in her heart it didn’t matter, there was nothing she could do now. But still, she climbed into the shower and scrubbed until she was nearly raw, wiping away as much of the semen as she could.

How could she be sure the birth control was already effective? It was why she’d insisted they wear condoms. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—take the chance. What if it didn’t work?

Oh God, she couldn’t be pregnant. Surely fate wouldn’t be that cruel.

As the water poured over her, she sank to her knees, her tears mixing with the heat and steam. She weakly gathered the washcloth in her hand and scrubbed again in a futile effort to remove the semen deposited into her body.

She bowed her head, her shoulders shaking as long-held grief and guilt boiled to the surface, exploding outward.

“Lily. Lily!”

“Dear God.”

“Get her out of the shower.”

“Lily, honey, you have to stop. You’re rubbing yourself raw.”

Strong hands gripped her shoulders and another hand gripped her wrist, pulling upward and forcing her to drop the soaked washcloth.

They carried her from the shower. Someone turned off the water, and she was enveloped by warm towels.

She didn’t know who had her, who dried her or who spoke to her. She was lost. Adrift in mind-shattering pain and grief that had been too long locked under a shield of numbness.

They dried her body and her hair. One even dressed her in a loose fitting T-shirt. All the while they spoke in low urgent tones, asking—pleading with her to tell them what was wrong.

“I just want to be alone,” she finally managed in a voice ravaged by tears. “Please,” she whispered. “Just leave me alone for a little while.”

They weren’t happy. She sensed their frustration and their helplessness, but at the moment, she couldn’t think about comforting them when she herself was inconsolable.

One by one they disappeared, and she wandered into the bedroom, closing the door behind her. She curled onto the bed, her heart so heavy and broken that she closed her eyes and prayed for oblivion.

“Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch,” Seth swore as he paced back and forth in the living room. He balled his fist and rammed it into the wall in helpless fury.

“What the fuck just happened here?” Michael demanded.

Dillon swore and rubbed his hand over his hair then over his face as he blew out his breath. “This is bad. This is really bad. She was so adamant that we wear condoms. She said she didn’t want to get pregnant. I accepted that. But this goes much deeper.”

“She’s never once hinted at her past,” Michael said. “We haven’t pushed her—haven’t wanted to. I think I was afraid to. And maybe I thought we could just move on and if we made her happy now it was enough. But goddamn it, we can’t go on like this.”

Seth shook his head. “I was content to be patient. I know she’s had a lot of hurt in her life. I told her I’d wait until she trusted me enough to tell me what happened and why she was homeless.”

“We can’t go on like this. She can’t go on like this,” Michael said again. “We have to know what we’re dealing with here. We can’t go forward until we’ve addressed the past—whatever it is.”

“Did you see her?” Seth asked hoarsely. “Did you see her? She’d checked out. She was here but wasn’t. She was caught in some horrible nightmare that only she knows about. And goddamn it, I can’t help her if I don’t know how.”

“Give her time. Just a little. We’ll do as she begged. For now,” Dillon said grimly. “But tomorrow this stops. If I have to sit on her, we’re going to find out what’s hurting her so much.”

Lily stared out the window from her position on the bed. Dawn was slowly creeping over the horizon. She hadn’t slept. Hadn’t been able to do anything more than lie there and exist in another time and another place. Her sins lay at her feet. Unavoidable.

She stirred and her full bladder protested. She considered lying there longer, but her need became more persistent until finally she got up and shuffled into the bathroom.

When she was done, she walked back into the bedroom and dismissed the bed, suddenly hating it and the comfort it offered. Quietly, she walked toward the living room, stopping a moment when she saw the three men sprawled at intervals on the couch and in the chairs.

The ache inside her heart intensified, and she crept by on soundless feet, still clad in only the T-shirt they’d put on her the night before.

At the back door, she pushed at the sliding glass door and shivered as the cool morning breeze blew over her skin. She stepped outside, her feet bare, and looked around with disinterest.

Her focus sharpened as she saw the wooden bench perched under an aspen tree several feet away from the deck she stood on. She walked mechanically, stopping in front to stare at the faded wood.

She turned again and eased down, her hands sliding across the rough surface before curling around the edges so tight her knuckles went white.

How long she sat there, she wasn’t sure. She focused on the distant mountaintop and the rugged terrain surrounding her, trying to absorb the peace that seemed so prevalent no matter which direction she looked.

Then she looked heavenward as tears she didn’t think she had to shed stung and crowded the corners of her eyes. “Please,” she whispered. “I can’t go through that again. If you’re listening, please. I’m so sorry. I don’t deserve forgiveness, but please give me your mercy.”

The sun gleamed, a bright orb that hung over the horizon, creeping higher with each passing second. The rays bathed her in warmth and yet nothing could fill the empty, aching void inside her.

“Lily, my God, what the hell are you doing out here?”

She turned to see Dillon hurrying out, Seth and Michael hot on his heels.

“You’re going to freeze to death,” Michael bit out. “You aren’t dressed, for God’s sake.”

Seth knelt in front her and took her cold hands in his. “Honey, you have to come inside. Please. We need to talk about this. We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on.”

He went blurry in front of her as tears streaked silently down her face. He rubbed them gently away, his eyes so filled with worry that she flinched.

Without another word, without asking or demanding, he simply scooped her into his arms and carried her back toward the house. He took her into the living room, placed her on the sofa and immediately enveloped her in the warmth of a blanket.

Dillon and Michael stood a mere foot away, concern etched into their brows.

She hugged her legs to her chest and rocked back and forth, praying for the strength to tell them what she’d hidden so deep inside her heart for so long.

They deserved to know. She should have told them long before now. They might not want her after they knew the truth. She’d been too involved in the fantasy—in the utter joy and contentment she’d found in their relationship.

But it couldn’t last. The past always caught up no matter how hard or fast you ran.

Michael slid onto the couch beside her. Dillon took the other side and Seth hunkered down in front of her, his gaze imploring her to talk to them.

“I was married before,” she began in a faltering voice.

She saw the surprise in their expressions, but they remained quiet, waiting for her to continue.

“I was an art student, not far from graduation. I was different. Did my own thing. Loved painting and drawing. Didn’t pay a lot of attention to the world around me. I met Charles in my senior year. He seemed wildly attracted to me. Loved my quirks and my idiosyncrasies.”

She took in a deep breath. “Before I knew it, I found myself pregnant. I was young and irresponsible. I was scared to death to tell Charles. He was older. Had an established, well-paying job as a financial planner. I needn’t have worried. He was thrilled. He wanted to marry me, and I thought it was the right thing to do. I was half in love with him and warmed to the thought of us being a family.

“He insisted I quit school. He didn’t approve of my career choice or my desire to paint and said there was no need since he could provide for me and the baby. He wanted a housewife. The perfect wife and mother to keep up his home, cook his meals and be a companion to dinners and parties.

“I loved to cook and was too young and infatuated to balk at putting aside my art. The few times I dabbled at home, he was dismissive of my efforts and frowned upon it taking time from my real duties.”

“He sounds like a first-rate jackass,” Dillon growled.

She smiled faintly. “I had a good pregnancy until the end. I was diagnosed with preeclampsia and had to be on bed rest the last few weeks before I delivered. I was tired and worn out and worried sick that something would happen to my baby. Charles was working long hours and so I was alone a lot in the house.

“I went into labor and delivered a perfectly healthy baby girl. Rose,” she said softly. “I named her Rose because she was like a perfect bloom in the spring when the petals are so vibrant and start to unfurl.

“I had a long delivery and was exhausted. They sent me home after two days but I never seemed to catch up. It was a whole new world to me. Suddenly I didn’t just have the house and the cooking. I had this new baby who was dependent on me twenty-four, seven. I breastfed her and sometimes she ate around the clock, it seemed.