The two violins started the intro. Bull felt like a proud father. Regan was getting damned good. “Go, Caz. I’ll jump in.”

Caz grinned, and when the violins reached the part for vocals, he sang, “To dream the impossible dream…”

Bull came in, hitting the low notes.

After a minute, Gabe handed a guitar to Audrey, picked his up, and they strummed an accompaniment. Over the winter, Audrey had discovered she loved playing the guitar.

Her clear soprano, then JJ’s alto blended with the melody.

When Bull gave Frankie a jump in gesture, she hesitated a bare second and joined with a rich, beautiful alto. Unlike Audrey, she wasn’t shy—and he loved that.

After a few measures, Gabe grinned at Bull in approval. The little Italian had a lovely voice.

They sang that song and a couple more before Hawk declared Regan’s lesson to be over and strolled into the kitchen for a glass of water. None of Mako’s sons drank much; alcohol greased the way for flashbacks.

“The yorkie’s a pretty woman.” Hawk leaned on the island beside Bull, watching Frankie in a way that Bull recognized. A man-woman way.

Oh, hell. While here, Bull had restrained himself from a lot of touching—partly because of the crap with Harvey earlier. But his restraint might have led Hawk to think Frankie was merely an employee to Bull.

“She’s beautiful, yeah.” And he should have made his interest obvious. “I plan to lure her back into my bed after this is over.”

A muscle tensed in Hawk’s cheek. “Back into bed?”

Frankie laughed at something JJ said, the rippling sound running over Bull’s skin like sunlight.

Bull shook his head at Hawk. “Sorry, bro. I’m calling dibs.”

“I might have known.” Hawk lifted his hands, palms out, acknowledging Bull’s claim, the gesture bringing back their younger days when they’d worked out their bro-code protocols. In their family, up until sex occurred, competition was fine. Once a guy got physically involved, the woman was off-limits to his brothers.

When it came to Frankie, it needed to be clear he was damn well invested.

How in the world did I end up in Bull’s bed? Not only in his bed, but on top, with him throbbing and hot and huge, inside her.

As another rush of excitement lashed her body, Frankie pushed her damp hair from her face and glared down at his hard, carved face. “Either I move, or you move.”

He was half-sitting, propped against the headboard, and his muscular hands were curved around her hips, holding her immobile. “No.”

She didn’t…quite…scream.

A dimple appeared in his cheek, and his hands rotated inward. Something touched her pussy—on each side of her exposed clit—vibrating fast. Buzzing. She looked down.

Ring vibes over his thumbs were just barely brushing her sensitive nub.

“Oh, ohhhhh.” The sensations intensified, and the need to come grew and grew. She tried to wiggle, to move.