Brad kissed her again as they stepped into the main room. Cain had turned out the lights, leaving only the flickering candlelight. Forest sounds played in the background—the soft swish of wind, an owl hooting, and for a moment the haunting cries of wolves howling.

It reminded Cherry so much of her dreams last night, she broke out in chills.

“Are you cold?” Brad wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her close.

She shook her head, unwilling to speak. How could Cain possibly have known to duplicate her night of amazing dreams? It was almost as if he’d read her mind.

Or had been there with her.

Impossible. It was just an amazing coincidence. It had to be.

Cain waited patiently beside the table, bare chested now, still wearing the pair of black sweats he’d had on when he arrived. They hung low on his hips, soft and clinging, faded almost gray. His feet were bare.

Candlelight sent a soft glow across Cain’s chest while shadows emphasized the beautiful musculature of his upper body. Where Brad’s chest was mostly smooth, Cain had a dusting of dark blond hair that caught the flickering light. She stared at the line of hair trailing down from his navel, leading her imagination beneath the waistband of his sweats.

Then Brad took her hand and her concentration shifted as he walked her over to the table and helped her lie down on the soft flannel sheet covering the leather. She’d never felt so aware of textures before—his hands were rough and callused, the flannel so soft it felt almost silky. The air in the cabin was warm, drifting over her bare shoulders. Cherry lay on her stomach with her face cushioned in the ring at the end of the table.

She closed her eyes. One of the guys—Cain, she thought—twisted her long hair into a knot and pulled it forward so that it hung over the end of the table. She scooted around a bit to make herself more comfortable as Brad gently tugged the towel out from under her.

She was naked with two men looking at her. If this had happened with anyone else, she would have been freaking out, blushing multiple shades of red, and trying to cover herself.

But not with these two. For whatever reason, she trusted them. Completely.

Instead of feeling humiliated and embarrassed, she listened as Cain whispered to Brad. “She’s even more beautiful than you said.”

“She is, isn’t she? I think she’s absolutely perfect.”

Had they really said that? Or was she just hoping they had? Probably wishful thinking. She’d had a lifetime of doing that, and tonight? Everything had taken on a dream-like quality. The illusion of fantasy was a powerful aphrodisiac, and with the cushion that supported her face deadening the sound just enough to give their voices a faraway, almost mystical quality, it was so easy to relax and just let whatever happened, happen.

“I’m warming the oil with my hands, Cheraza, but please let me know if it’s too cool for you.”

“Hmmm.” She loved the way he said her name. She rarely heard it. She’d been Cherry since before she could remember.

Cain’s hands were slick with the scented oil. More vanilla, but subtle. He was right—the vanilla was soothing even as her skin shivered beneath his sensual touch. She wondered where Brad was, if he was watching while Cain touched her.

Would that bother him? She and Brad had been as close to intimate last night as two people could be without actually having sex, and now Cain was touching her, his hands working the knots in her shoulders and the sore muscles in her calves and … no. Two sets of hands. Brad was obviously helping. She sighed and relaxed even more as both men made magic happen to her tired muscles. Drifting, she lost herself in the recorded forest sounds, the haunting cries of the wolves, the ultimate fantasy of two totally sexy men with their hands all over her.

She wasn’t sure if she’d fallen asleep or merely drifted under the sensual massage, but Cain leaned over and whispered in her ear that they were going to turn her, and it made her smile, picturing a big spatula flipping her over like a pancake, but she was really too limp and relaxed to care how they did what they did.

One minute she was lying on her stomach and the next she was on her back. She flashed on how exposed she was, her breasts and belly, even her sex, openly displayed, but the magic of Cain’s fingers massaging her scalp and Brad gently tugging and rubbing her toes and feet left her sighing and relaxed once again. This was even better. They’d found the rhythm of the forest sounds Cain was playing, moving in time with the wind in the trees and the soft hoot of an owl.

Cain’s massage moved lower, his fingers working along her jawline and then to her neck, while Brad had moved up along her legs to the muscles in her thighs. Quadriceps. That’s what those big muscles were called, and hers were really sore from today’s hike.

Brad was gentle, so very gentle, though it was hard to imagine that strong man with the big hands treating her this tenderly. But Cain was every bit as gentle, rubbing her arms, massaging her biceps and then her forearms.

She already felt like warm pudding, her body so relaxed and fluid she could almost imagine dripping off the massage table into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Not a pretty image, but at this point did it matter?

Cain finished her arms and she heard him reaching for the bottle of oil while Brad used his thumbs to ease the tension in her groin muscles. She’d been sore there this morning, probably from all the climbing uphill to the lake, and the smooth press of his thumbs and the palms of his hands had her sighing with pleasure.

Then Cain began massaging her hands, and she forgot everything else. Stretching her fingers, putting the perfect amount of pressure on her palms, working each finger individually—it was heaven. Absolute heaven.

After he finished her hands, he arranged her arms alongside her body, palms up. She really didn’t want this to end, but when Brad paused she knew the fantasy was over. She’d totally lost track of time and had no idea how long she’d been lying there.

Cain’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Cheraza, Brad and I would like to continue, but we want to ask your permission. Will you trust us enough to give you a more sensual massage? Our touch will be more intimate, and we don’t want you to hesitate to ask us to stop should you feel at all uncomfortable. Brad’s going to blindfold you if that’s okay. It might not sound like it, but the blindfold will help you relax.”

She didn’t have to consider his words at all. Two men she liked, one who’d already brought her to an absolutely mind-blowing orgasm with his hands and mouth? She’d obviously gotten past the fact that she was lying here naked in front of them, so yeah, she could get on board with more. Even so, she kept her eyes closed, easily re-entered her fantasy world, and nodded.

Brad slipped the blindfold over her eyes, and Cain was right. She relaxed even more.

She wasn’t ready to watch what they did. She only wanted to feel.

Cain kissed her forehead. She knew it was him because his short facial hair tickled. It was much softer than it looked and she really wanted to rub her face against his, but his kiss had been so quick, there hadn’t been time. The recording he’d been playing changed. The wild sounds were there, but the long, sad howls of the wolves were different, more upbeat, if that was at all possible, and there was a subtle but sure tempo behind the natural sounds. It had to be a drum, but it was timed precisely to the beat of her heart.

Or was her heart syncing to the beat of the drum?

At first, nothing felt different. The massage continued, though Cain and Brad’s pacing was smoother, as they worked in time to the steady tempo filling the background more with each passing moment. The sound had been muted earlier, but now it filled the room, a low thrumming that could have been blood flow or a beating heart. She felt the sound deep inside, a primal beat that turned her body liquid, warmed her inside and out.

Cain’s big hands cupped her breasts, and she thought of Brad’s touch last night, the way he’d pinched and tugged her nipples until she saw stars. Cain massaged her, though, almost as if he purposefully ignored her nipples. It took all her willpower not to arch into his warm hands.

Not to beg for more.

Cain moved to her right side and she sensed Brad at her left. The two of them stroked her from shoulders to toes, their hands slick with oil. Hands along the outside of each leg moved slowly inward, sliding gently over her calves, her sensitive inner thighs, following the crease between her thigh and groin.

She thought of them as if they were disembodied things—not Cain and Brad, but two powerful sets of masculine hands stroking her body in a graceful dance of sensation. They massaged her breasts, teased her nipples—stroking, brushing, and then gently pinching. She wanted more, wanted that pleasure-pain that transferred so easily to her clit, but they teased her until she was slowly writhing on the table.

Strong hands pinned her ankles, and she arched her back in frustrated response.

The tempo of the drums beat faster, the thrumming deeper, invading her bones. Her heartbeat leapt, racing to catch the drums, her body slowly twisting and arching in response to the seduction of touch. Strong fingers pinched her nipples harder; other disembodied fingers traced her labia, barely connecting with her greedy body as they circled her clit, driving her insane with featherlight touches that led her close to but not over that precipice of orgasm.

She sucked in a breath as a mouth covered hers. Brad’s lips. She recognized their fullness, the smooth upper lip where Cain’s was prickly from his moustache, the taste that was all Brad. His tongue thrust against hers as fingers drove deep between her legs and her inner muscles clamped down, clinging in spasmodic response to such an intimate invasion.

She was still on the edge, her body straining to reach the precipice, but they held her there—Brad with his deep kisses and his fingers working the nipple on her left breast while Cain’s fingers filled her sheath, his thumb circled her clit, and his other hand tugged at her sensitive nipple.

She tried to picture them, two powerful, sensual men pleasuring her while her body bucked and writhed beneath their expert touch, but the drums in the background hammered harder, faster, and her body followed, so close, so damned close, wiping everything else from her mind.

She sensed a shift in the air and the hands disappeared. Sensation fell away and she wanted to scream at the lack. The drums beat just as hard, pounded every bit as fast, and she lay there, alone and panting.

Lips pulled at one nipple; fingers plucked the other. She groaned and clutched the sides of the table to keep from arching right off the thing. Strong hands parted her thighs, holding her down, opening her wide. A tongue stroked from her perineum to her clit, circled that sensitive bud, and then drove deep.

Was it Brad? She couldn’t tell. Honestly? She didn’t care. All that really mattered was that he didn’t stop!

Mouth at her breast, mouth between her legs, and they worked together, sucking and licking, pinching and stroking as the tempo increased and the drums grew louder, as her heart raced and tiny lights flashed behind her blindfolded eyes.

Her body raced the drums and there was a thundering in her heart, in her blood, until the tongues stroking and hands touching coalesced into a single firestorm of need, of desire and sensation, and then it was too much, too perfect.

Too amazing to be possible, and yet she was flying, screaming out as wolves howled and drums thundered, her body tensed, her back arched, and she lost herself amid a climax unlike anything she’d ever known, a celebration of her body that shredded her soul and repaired it, better, stronger, more complete, than she’d ever been before.

Soft touches brought her down. Sweet kisses led her into a quiet pool of sensation where she needed only to relax, to let her mind and body melt away, suffused in pleasure, enervated, entirely complete.

Cain pulled the blankets back on Cherry’s bed while Brad carefully wiped away the oil they’d rubbed over her body. She slept soundly, the culmination of a long day hiking, a good meal, spectacular wine, and the best sensual massage Cain knew he and Brad had ever given anyone. She was exactly the woman they wanted, and if she didn’t want them it was going to be tough to get over her.

He hardly knew her, and already she fit into his life—their lives—more comfortably than he could ever have imagined. Was one week going to be enough to convince her?

Brad carefully scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. He laid her on the clean sheet and Cain pulled the covers down so they could tuck her feet inside. The nights here could be cold. He moved toward the head of the bed and lightly worked the knot out of her hair.

The long, dark tresses felt like silk between his fingers. His eyes burned with the thought of not keeping her forever and he wiped away a tear he refused to let fall. Raising his head, he caught Brad watching him.

“Well?”

Brad whispered, but Cain clearly heard him. He shook his head. “I never imagined … Damn, Brad. She’s beautiful and smart and funny, and she loves wolves. It really couldn’t get any better. She’s almost too good. Scary good.”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Cain. You’re starting to sound like Trak. He’s all about doom and gloom, though it’s nice not to have you teasing me about falling so hard and fast for her.”

Cain laughed softly. “Yeah. I take it all back. C’mon. Help me clean this stuff up so we can get out of here and get some sleep.”

They had the table folded up, the candles extinguished and stashed in their container, and all of Cain’s equipment ready to go. Brad stood by the bed for a moment, watching Cherry sleep. “I don’t want to leave her,” he said.

“Help me carry this stuff back to the lodge.” Cain walked over to stand beside Brad. “I don’t think she’d mind a bit if the wolves spent the night.”

“Do you think it’s safe? What if she makes the connection? How will we explain how they got inside?”

Cain could tell Brad really wanted to believe it was okay. “We’ll just tell her we weren’t comfortable leaving her alone sleeping so soundly, the wolves were waiting for us outside, and we asked them to stay. I think it sounds believable.”

Brad’s soft laughter had Cain grinning in response. “Good,” he said. “Then if Trak gets pissed, I can blame you.” Brad picked up the massage table and waited by the open door.

“He blames me for anything bad that happens anyway.” Cain grabbed the tote bags. He took a quick look around the dark cabin, but his gaze lingered on Cheraza, sleeping so soundly.

They had a lot of mountains to climb with this one. Then he followed Brad out the door.