He wanted to spend all night there. Instead, he shoved the silk aside, and—

“Oh, God, Selena,” he hissed.

Slick and hot, tight and vital, the penetration rocked him and kept him standing at the same time. As he began to move, he held on to her ass and rocked her back and forth. Her hair was in his face; her scent was in his nose; she was an overwhelming tide that made him want to drown.

Faster. Harder.

She came first and he loved that, her rhythmic grips juicing him even further. And then he jumped on the one roller-coaster he was willing to ride for infinity, his cock kicking inside of her, the orgasm bringing them soul-close.

When it was over, he panted against her until he worried he was crushing her. “I’m sorry—”

“Mmmm.” She went for his mouth, sucking his lower lip in and nipping at it. “More.”

Instantly, he was ready to go again, but even as his hips started to pump, he had to stop. “Home,” he grunted. “We need to do this at home.”

“Still concerned about the cold?” she drawled, running a fang down his jaw to his jugular. “And here I am, feeling so hot.”

Trez moaned and wobbled in his boots. “I’m greedy. I want more access to you than I can get here.”

Her laugh was like a caress over his bare flesh. “Then by all means, take me to your bed.”

It was treacherous getting her fully back into those slacks. Particularly as he bent down to the ground and went eye-to-eye with her sex.

Gritting his teeth, he somehow managed to get her dressed and have him restuffed into his fly without going caveman on her. And then it was a case of nonchalantly strolling out of the shadows, all nothing-doing as he pulled her back in close to his side.

“That was so amazing,” she whispered. “I can still feel you inside of me.”

Trez started to walk funny. It was either that or break something you couldn’t put a cast on.

By the time they made it to the car, he was calculating the exact ETA for his bedroom—assuming he was going a hundred and fifty miles an hour.

Hey, it was a Porsche, right?

Opening her door for her, he sat her down and closed her in, and then all but wide-receivered it around to the driver’s side. The second his ass hit that bucket seat, he fired up the engine.

“Oh! Cold!” she shouted.

The heater had been going when he’d shut things down, and now that powerful blower was kicking out arctic everything. They both reached forward, slapping at various buttons and knobs—

Music exploded out of the Burmester sound system, thanks to the Sirius dial, and before he could turn the stuff off, DJ Khaled’s “Hold You Down” came on.

“Wait,” he said. “No, leave it on.”

Getting out, he hopped around to her side again, opened the door, and offered her his hand. “Dance with me.”

“What?”

“Dance with me, my queen.”

Sweeping her out of her seat, he led her to the front of the Porsche, into the headlights, pulling her close. Together they moved, bodies shifting, fingers intertwining, the beat transforming the parking place and the wide-open amusement park into a private dance hall.

“Forever . . .” he murmured against her. “I’ll hold you down . . .”

Trez curled his head onto her shoulder so that his much larger body was all around her, encompassing her, protecting and loving her.

Together, they danced in and out of the headlights.

Up in the security tower, iAm watched his brother take Selena back out of the car and bring her around to the front grille. There was no knowing what song was playing, and it wasn’t like it mattered. Just watching the two of them come together and move as one, shifting to the music, holding each other close, was enough.

iAm found himself having to brush at both of his eyes to clear them.

It was too damned hard to look at.

Turning away, he paced around the tight space and thought of how much Trez would hate being so high up in the air, nothing but the wide-angle view and the drop to the ground to focus on. The male had always hated heights, to the point where it had been a miracle to get him to agree to a place on the eighteenth floor of the Commodore.

He was staring at the roller-coaster when, a few minutes later, his phone let off a wiggle in the pocket of his leather jacket. He took the thing out.

Time to go, was all the text said.

Almost immediately a second one came in from his brother. Thank you so much.

Trez never spelled out words in text. So he must have really meant it.

iAm hesitated with his response. Then he sent: Glad to help. Will c u home.

He went to put the thing back into his jacket when he hesitated. Thn ima go to check on thgs.

It was a text he’d sent a million times over the last couple of years. And in fact, he meant it. He was going to go see about the restaurant and the clubs—how they were functioning, if anyone needed anything.

That was exactly what he needed to do next. And exactly what would keep him from going to that damn cabin.

Time to head out.

With no one else around to play witness, he was free to dematerialize down to where he’d parked the BMW X5 that he and his brother had been sharing. A moment later, the Porsche was released through the side gate and he followed the leader at a discreet distance across the two-acre empty parking lot—as did Manny, in a conventional ambulance.

The entire way back to the Brotherhood compound, iAm had that picture of his brother and Selena in his mind, the pair of them dancing in the headlights like a pair of teenagers.

Too bad they were in a John Green novel.

How many more nights did they have, he wondered.

Shit, he felt morbid thinking like that, but there was a clock running here. With every hour that passed, it was more likely instead of less that Selena was going to collapse again.

And then what the fuck was he going to do with his brother?

Jesus Christ, Trez was going to be unmanageable.

With happy thoughts like that running through his head, he lost track of time, and before he was aware of having covered any distance at all, they were mounting the mhis-covered rise up to the mansion, Manny having broken off to head in the back way with the ambulance.

Hopefully, Selena was never going to know the precautions they were taking on her behalf.

It would have been a buzz kill. How could it not be.

iAm was careful to keep his distance as the last turn before the mansion approached, giving Trez time to get her inside. When he finally did pull into the courtyard, he went around the fountain and parked next to Rhage’s GTO.

Which wasn’t going to be out there much longer. The Brother always moved it into the garage during the winter months.

Manny’s Porsche was at the base of the stairs, its top up, its key no doubt making its way back to the doctor so he could bring it to the training center’s underground lot, too.

iAm shut the BMW off. Got out and locked it even though he didn’t need to.

And stalled out.

Staring up at the sky, he watched the breath leaving his mouth drift off and disappear. That image of Trez and Selena dancing was like a dog with its fangs in his gray matter, the memory refusing to budge—and not, he was ashamed to admit, because he was thinking of everything his brother was in danger of losing or because he was stressing about how to peel the sad bastard off the pavement when things came to a bad conclusion.

Instead, he was wondering . . .

Shit, he was wondering what that felt like. To hold a female close to your body. Have her scent in your nose and your hands on her shoulders, her waist, her hips. He wanted to know what it was like to turn her face up to yours and—

Okay, he needed to pull back from all that.

Because none of it was happening for him. Not now. Not in a half hour if he went to that cabin. Not in a week or a month or a year from now—