Liam's hand was cold under hers.

Ellie’s fingers, guided by Jaxon’s unyielding grip, wrapped around her brother’s wrist. His skin was cool from the rain-chilled air of the doorway, a stark contrast to the feverish heat of her own. She felt the rapid flutter of his pulse against her palm. Jaxon didn’t let go, his larger hand sealing hers over Liam’s flesh, a binding.

“Here,” Jaxon growled into her ear, his breath scalding.

He moved their joined hands, pressing Liam’s palm flat against the damp skin of Ellie’s stomach. Liam jerked as if burned, but Jaxon held firm. Ellie gasped, the sensation foreign, seismic—her brother’s touch, hesitant and cold, over the place where Jaxon was buried deep inside her.

Jaxon’s hips rolled, a slow, possessive thrust that made her spine arch. “See?” he said, his voice rough with exertion. “She needs it.”

Liam’s hazel eyes were wide, locked on his own hand splayed across his sister’s belly. Horror was there, bright and sharp, but beneath it swam something darker, a pull that made his fingers twitch against her skin. He didn’t pull away.

“Look at me, Liam.”

Jaxon’s command cut through the humid air. Liam’s gaze dragged upward, over Ellie’s shoulder, to meet the intense blue stare holding him. Jaxon’s face was a mask of sweat and raw intent. He drove into Ellie again, a harder stroke, and Liam’s hand rode the motion, feeling the tension in her abdomen, the proof of the violation happening just beneath his palm.

“She’s shaking,” Liam whispered, the words torn from him.

“She’s close,” Jaxon corrected, his voice dropping to a dark, intimate rumble. His hand left theirs, finally, tracing up Ellie’s side to cup her breast. “Aren’t you, Ellie?”

She couldn’t speak. Her head was thrown back against Jaxon’s shoulder, her breath coming in ragged pants. Her own hand, now free, remained over Liam’s, pressing it harder against her. A silent plea, or a condemnation.

Jaxon’s pace began to change, losing its controlled rhythm for something more urgent. The wet, sliding sounds of their bodies filled the small space. Liam could smell it now—sex, sweat, the rain on their skin. His own body betrayed him, a hot, aching pull low in his gut that had nothing to do with disgust.

“Touch her,” Jaxon said again, the command a ragged breath. “Or I stop. I leave her right here, just like this.”

The threat was a blade. Ellie whimpered, a broken sound. Her hips pushed back against Jaxon, seeking more, even as her fingers dug into her brother’s hand.

Liam’s resistance shattered. His hand moved, not away, but upward, his callused fingers sketching a trembling path over her ribcage. He felt the frantic beat of her heart. He was touching his sister. The truth of it was a lightning strike behind his eyes, blinding and final.

Jaxon watched the surrender unfold on Liam’s face. A grim, triumphant smile touched his mouth. “Good,” he breathed. He wrapped an arm around Ellie’s waist, anchoring her, and his thrusts became punishing, driving her forward into Liam’s space.

Ellie cried out, a raw, unfiltered sound as her climax hit her. Her body clamped down around Jaxon, shaking violently. Liam felt the convulsions through his hand. He was holding her through it, bearing witness to it, his own breath caught in his throat.

Jaxon rode out her pleasure with rough, grinding strokes, his own release a sharp groan against her neck. He pulsed inside her, his big body shuddering. In the heavy silence that followed, broken only by their panting, he kept his grip on her.

Slowly, Liam tried to pull his hand back. It felt welded to her skin.

Jaxon’s voice was low, saturated with exhaustion and power. “No.” He shifted, still buried deep within Ellie, and reached for Liam’s other hand. He brought it to Ellie’s hip, placing it over a red mark his own fingers had left. “You don’t get to leave the fire once you’ve touched it.”

He leaned forward, his lips brushing Ellie’s sweaty temple, his eyes never leaving Liam’s shattered gaze. “Now you both burn with me.”