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I sigh happily, wiggling a little in the afterglow, feeling all kinds of intoxicated. “You were right.”
“Just wait till you see what we’ll do tomorrow night,” Rhys adds.
They’re already making plans for a next time. That’s presumptuous in ways I like.
But it’s also risky. Plans can lead to expectations. Expectations can lead to hurt. After the way Steven tossed me out like I was trash—literally—I don’t want to put my heart on the line again. “I want tomorrow night,” I begin, looking to Rhys, then Hollis. “But this is just for this week, right?”
There are a few seconds—no, several, where the whole earth seems to go still. I can almost hear a commentator whisper awkward. But then, Hollis chuckles. “Of course.”
“Right. Yeah. I mean, we have a stretch of away games starting at the end of next week. The break is a bit shorter this year, so we start up again sooner. And we’re actually leaving town a little early for a charity thing in Chicago. Where our next game is,” Rhys says, then quickly adds, “And there’s so much going on. Contracts and trade rumors and whatnot.”
I flash back to Hollis’s remarks from our dog walk—his family responsibilities, his focus on his mom and sisters. Rhys has his laser vision too.
“Totally,” Hollis adds.
Do they mean it? But then these guys have meant everything they’ve said so far. They meant it when they helped me with the cat. They meant it when they offered to share this cottage. I take this offer at face value too.
It’s safer this way. Nothing lasts anyway. And besides, next week I have to return to the city, find a place to live, and keep putting one foot in front of the other with my yoga plans.
“It’ll be a good week then, and next week we’ll be…friends again,” I add.
“Friends again,” Hollis repeats, and Rhys echoes the promise saying friends again too.
I smile, grateful for this plan. I’m eager, though, to return to the fun and games of this bed. I look to one guy, then the other, my tone light and flirty as I say, “I guess you guys really don’t mind sharing.”
Rhys slides his hand down my bare arm. “Not with a friend. Not with a toy, and never with you and your fantastic fingers.”
That’s a relief. I wasn’t sure if Rhys would be annoyed that I called for last-minute backup—from me.
I meet his heated gaze, then Hollis’s before my eyes drift down their bodies. “Let me take care of you two.”
They don’t protest. They shed their underwear, but before I can enjoy their cocks, I hear a noise outside. My mind snaps back to reality.
The sound of a car door slamming shut carries across the yard to the window. Tires crunch along gravel. I move quickly, turning to the window, pulling back the curtain a sliver.
Gavin’s gone.
29
INSTAGRAM BOYFRIEND
Gavin
Are you kidding me?
It’s seven-thirty. She got banged six ways to Sunday last night. And she’s outside doing yoga this early?
What does a guy have to do to be alone?
I clench my jaw, hissing out a breath as I dip my spoon into the carton of yogurt, then take a bite at the kitchen counter.
I’d thought everyone was asleep when I returned from my morning run a few minutes ago. The house was still so I padded in quietly, sneakers off, and headed straight for the fridge to grab my yogurt.
Now that I’ve got a view of the deck, I can see Briar outside, set up at the far end of it on her yoga mat with her faithful dog at the top. Briar’s back is to me as she lifts her arms to the sun, her long, lush golden waves cascading down her spine. She folds her body forward, then glides like water into a plank, then an upward dog.
Fuck me.
She looks too good like that. Too sexy. With her black yoga pants and some strappy little sports bra, and her pup watching her.
