I had every intention of going back to the office after my meeting with Charlie, but I couldn’t face the staff, or the players.

I drove through the main gates of the McCade compound and wound around to the back of the property.

Zeus was waiting for me at the door.

“Hey, boy.” I scratched behind his ears. It was close to a hundred degrees. Not necessarily the best time to play ball, but I let him outside to give him a chance to run around.

I walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I needed a glass of chilled white wine. I closed my eyes, feeling the cold air wash over me. My skin was hot.

The wine glugged as I poured it into the tall crystal. I pulled open the French doors and stepped onto the patio. I had a reflecting pool that paralleled the length of the living room and kitchen. I turned on the overhead misters and planted myself in the shade.

The cold wine seemed to cool me from the inside out, while the frosty mist coated my skin. This felt amazing.

I laughed out loud when Zeus ran toward me, but jumped in the pool instead. I couldn’t blame him. It was Texas hot out here. The kind of heat that made grown men melt.

Shit. My men were out there in this heat. They had afternoon practice. Isaac had mentioned there were a list of complaints. At the top of the list, under money, was an indoor practice facility. The Warriors were the only team in the league who didn’t have one. Living and playing in Texas made that criminal.

I watched Zeus make laps in the pool, trying to snatch his tennis ball as it bobbed under the water and then resurfaced in a jerky pop. It didn’t look like he was climbing out any time soon. I wandered back inside, keeping the door cracked for him.

I refilled my glass, feeling the wine start to soothe me. Being in that bar today and listening to the singers talk about their song writing, their passion, reminded me I had neglected mine. I hadn’t made time for it.

I took the stairs, feeling the irresistible draw to my studio. My fingers were itching. Tingling almost.

The corner room upstairs was filled with natural light. I had a special thermostat installed to keep the room at an ideal temperature for my paints and the canvases.

Even with the sunlight streaming in, it didn’t feel like summer. It was like early spring. Cool and bright.

I moved from easel to easel. This was all I wanted to do. I wanted to paint. It was what I was trained in. I had studied in Paris and Rome. I had traveled Europe with my grandparents’ blessing because it was what their country club friend’s grandchildren did. To them it seemed young and bohemian. They didn’t take stock in how much I needed the culture and history of Europe in my art.

My own practice was a combination of all those experiences. Watching great painters. Spending nights staying up all night talking about art. And yes, some of those were incredible romances. Artists that took me to bed. Some who vowed to paint me first, but ended up painting me the morning after. I smiled, picking up a brush.

My life was on display in my strokes, but you had to know me. Know my soul to see it. I doubted anyone who looked at my work knew what was in front of them.

I positioned myself on a stool and dabbed the edge of the bristles into the blue water color paint. I brushed it on the easel, focusing on the edges the blue made as it came in contact with the paper. Everything changed when those two things came together.

The colors blurred and faded. The blues were hazier and yet more vibrant. I dipped the brush again, making another line.

I felt a part of me start to awaken. A part of me that had been sleeping ever since I was no longer McCade heiress and had become Warriors owner. I could never go back to the girl who locked herself in the studio for hours or wandered from museum to museum. From now on, I owned a team. And I was in the heart of the AFA.

At some point, the sun started to set. The hues in the room changed to orange and pink. My wine glass was empty, but I kept painting. Zeus had found me and was a sleeping wet mop in the corner on his bed.

“Vanessa? Darlin’?”

“George said she was here.”

I heard Isaac and Dylan’s voices, followed by their footsteps.

“Holy shit.” They stopped in the doorway.

I looked up. “Hi.” I smiled meekly.

“Baby, what are you doing up here?”

I rubbed my shoulder. I had a kink in my neck from sitting in the same position for hours. I hadn’t stopped for a single break.

“Working,” I answered.

“Are you drawing up plays for us?” Dylan teased, walking around the room full of easels.

They trailed from one painting to the next until they stood behind me.

I realized they were about to see what I had painted. It bared my soul.

“Is that?” Isaac crossed his arms, taking it in.

I nodded. “Do you like it?” I’d never been so nervous about anyone critiquing my work before. But the painting wasn’t only about me. It was us.

“I’m not going to pretend to know anything about art, but it’s incredible.”

They were anchored on either side of me, staring at the painting. It was everything about us. Colors of passion. Expression of desire. Tangled and tossed in the wind, just like we were. Holding on for dear life. Grasping at each other to stay grounded in the ecstasy we craved under our skin.

“I didn’t know how else to explain us,” I whispered.

Isaac swept the hair from my neck as he lowered his lips to my throat. Dylan covered the other side, dropping to his knees.

They worked quickly, undressing me. Taking turns, handing me over while one worked a piece of clothing. Their movements were coordinated. Seamless.

I was wrapped in Dylan’s arms, his mouth hovering over mine, while Isaac spread a drop cloth on the floor.

“You like my art?” I purred. Dylan pulled one knee toward him, while Isaac gripped the other side and widened my left leg in his direction.

“Tell us about it, baby,” he dared me. “We’re listening.”

My breath was already erratic. But I loved having them in my studio. I wanted them to see the painting. I wanted them to know this side of me. The real Vanessa. Not the woman who paraded in the façade of being an owner. This was me. Vulnerable and artistic. Free and creative. A woman who loved colors and vibrancy. A woman who wanted her soul to dictate what she did—not other people.

My hands lingered over my head. They kissed my legs, inching slower toward my heat.

“I-I wanted you to see how I feel…ohh…” My head rolled back and forth. Isaac had pushed me toward Dylan so I was lying on my side facing him. He placed my foot on the floor, bending my knee and dove between my legs.

“Oh shit,” I hissed as he pried my velvety lips and began lapping at my clit.

“Keep going,” Isaac groaned. “We want to hear about the painting.”

I panted. My hips jutted forward. Dylan’s tongue swirled, making a figure-eight pattern around my swollen clit. It was on fire.

“I-I always express myself in my art.” I tried to breath. “And I had to put last night on paper with paint.”

Isaac sat forward, peeling the T-shirt from his chest before he aligned his body behind mine. He kissed my ear and my neck. His hands plucked my tits, rubbing my nipples until they perked under his command.

“Maybe we should paint you,” he growled.

“Do-do you paint?” I gasped.

Dylan came up for air from between my legs. “I certainly have a creative side, darlin’.” He reached up, taking one of the paint canisters and tossing it to Isaac. Isaac quickly unscrewed the lid, dipping his finger in the blue.

I stared in disbelief as he began to coat my nipples with the watercolors. I watched the paint droplets pool on my navel.

“Fuck, she’s gorgeous.”

“Do that again,” I breathed. I was mesmerized. Hypnotized by how erotic this was.

Dylan choose another color. This time pink. He tossed the cap on the floor as he began to paint streaks inside my thighs. His fingertips grazed my skin, as I shuddered. He crossed an X over my heat and grinned wickedly.

He grabbed more colors, dividing the jars with Isaac. They were relentless. Smearing and painting. Stroking my body as if I was their canvas. I arched my back. Rocked my hips. While they watched their masterpiece come to life under their hands.

I was wild with desire. Eager with anticipation. I rolled on the floor needing their touches. Hungry for more paint. I rocked onto my knees as they painted my back. Isaac’s palm coasted over my bottom with streaks of pastel yellow.

“God, look at her, brother.” Isaac sat back on his heels.

The world floated around me. I was in a state of complete arousal. Drunk with paradise on the horizon. This was my world. My studio. And these were my guys. It might have been crazy, but I knew they were meant only for me.

“Shit, she’s a Goddess.” Dylan breathed.

I writhed between them, lost in everything they were giving me. Promising to give me.

Dylan undressed, throwing his clothes on the floor in a hurry.

I ran my hands over my nipples, feeling the paint starting to dry, leaving streaks of brilliant colors on my skin. I’d never felt as if I lived in my art. Lived in one of the paintings until now. I kneeled, facing Isaac. His mouth devoured mine, drinking in my lips.

“Oh, Vanessa.” His voice sounded broken. As if he was falling apart in my arms just as much as I was falling into his.

I was wet, soaked from Dylan’s tongue. Ripe with my own juices. I felt Dylan’s hand spread between my legs, coating my back side. I tensed for only a second when I felt him circle my ass and dip fingers inside to get me ready.

“Tonight this is mine, darlin’.”

I nodded. I leaned into his shoulder as Isaac positioned me on the floor to face him.

I was nervous. Thrilled to share something new with them again tonight. I didn’t know how Dylan would be. I didn’t know if he would be gentle or lose control like Isaac did.

I wrapped my hands around Isaac’s neck to prepare for whatever blinding joy came next. He hoisted my leg around his waist, giving them both the perfect angle to enter me. One from the front. The other from the back. Theirs to share. Theirs to fuck into perfect oblivion.

I hissed when I felt their cocks begin to penetrate. They hovered, stretching and widening me.

“Oh God,” I whimpered. It was intense. More intense than last night. They were both pushing inside me at the same time.

“I’ve got you.” Isaac stared in my eyes. I spiraled in the darkness. Lost my footing in the smoldering mystery of his gaze.

I seized when Dylan slammed into my ass.

“Oh yes,” I moaned. “Dylan.”

“Fuck, your ass is so fucking tight. So hot. Damn, Vanessa.”

Isaac thrust inside me, stretching the walls of my pussy to accommodate his massive cock. They fucked me over and over. Drowning out my cries with groans and grunts of satisfaction and passion.

My nipples rubbed against Isaac’s chest. My back was slick with sweat against Dylan. Their mouths covered me in kisses like a rain storm. And their cocks were the thunder and lightning, hitting me over and over until I couldn’t keep the damn from breaking.

“Oh God,” I pleaded. I didn’t know what I wanted. My release? Theirs? An eternity of feeling like this?

Dylan had a slow steady rhythm. He was so thick and hard, I could feel every inch of him as he moved inside my ass. It was mind-blowing how good it felt to have him there this time. Both of them filled me in new ways. Surprising me. Completing me with their bodies.

The orgasm catapulted through me, sending fiery rain tearing through my veins. I thought I would be torn in two as they pumped into me. But the warmth of flames engulfed me as we burned in ecstasy.

Dylan bit my shoulder as his orgasm claimed him. He pumped deep in my ass.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he growled.

I leaned into him, offering the depths of my pussy to Isaac. He thrust again, hilting himself so far. I thought I’d split in half. Dylan’s cock was still buried in my ass. He held my breasts in his palms while Isaac fucked me, until I saw it in his eyes.

“Vanessa,” he whispered. “Fuck.”

He shot his release inside me, before collapsing next to me.

I smiled. I’d never been happier. Even if it was only for a minute, I wanted it to stay like this forever. They were both inside me. Warm. Hot. Sexy as hell. And I had just shared my world with them.

I was tempted to sleep like this on the hard studio floor when Isaac’s eyes widened.

“Damn it. I fucked up.”

“What? What’s wrong?” I looked at him. The moment had been completely perfect.

“The condoms are still in my jean pockets.”

“Mother fucker,” Dylan sputtered.

“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m on the pill, Isaac. It’s ok.” I was slightly startled, but I wasn’t going to let one slip up ruin tonight.

“You were so damn beautiful. I didn’t think straight. I’m sorry.”

I grabbed his arm. “It’s ok.” I leaned up to kiss him. “I’m not worried about getting pregnant. And it felt good. Too good to put something between us.” I smiled.

I was covered in paint. I had just had sex with two men. There were a lot of other things to worry about.

He kissed my forehead. “Do you know a what rock star you are? About everything?”

Dylan laughed, collecting his clothes. “Watch out, or I might marry you.” He winked.

I felt a spark of jealousy fly off Isaac’s chest. Maybe it was a slight rumble I heard. But that would have to wait. Because just then. I heard the alarm buzz. It was the front gate.