Chapter 17: Chapter 17: Way Off Target

Avery

Something was definitely wrong with me. Had to be. I was flirting with the enemy, squeezing my thighs together under the table to keep from walking over and planting myself in Darrius' lap. His copper-colored hair and beard caught each flame in the fireplace. My entire body felt hot that had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with the Fae warrior across from me.

And Malcolm. Holy fuck, I'd been near to bursting with need while both of them were at the table with me. It took every bit of discipline and strength I had not to rip off my dress, hoist myself up on the table and beg them to take me.

This was ridiculous. I shouldn't be attracted to either of them, much less both. They had to be part-incubus or something. Or had delved into my secret fantasies since Darrius looked like a Scottish warrior and Malcolm like a Viking come to life from all those historical romances I read.