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“Don’t worry. I sleep like the dead,” Briar puts in.
“Me too,” Hollis says.
“Same here,” Rhys offers.
And I’m glad they can’t see my expression in the dark—a stupid smile.
In the morning, I wake with my arms wrapped around Briar, my face in her hair, and the energy you get after having the best night of sleep ever.
It feels too good. Too right. That’s a problem. I can’t get used to her. I can’t get hooked on her.
This is just sex.
That is all.
No matter how much I like sleeping with her.
It’s time we refocus things on just sex. I leap out of bed, head to the kitchen, and make some coffee. We have three more days, then we’re gone. A twinge of something like missing lodges in my chest, but I dismiss it quickly. No time for that. No space for missing. In seventy-two hours we’ll be out of here and on our way to Chicago, then Detroit, then St. Louis.
But first, coffee.
A little later, when everyone’s wandering into the kitchen, no doubt lured by the aroma, I go first, before anyone else can get a word in: “Anyone up for a round of morning Never Have I Ever?”
47
NEVER HAVE I EVER
Rhys
All things being equal, I’d rather be drinking scotch for this game.
But it is eight in the morning, so it’s tea for me as Briar taps her chin, then goes first. “Never have I ever gone bungee jumping.”
Hollis gives her a curious look. “Don’t you know? This game is supposed to be dirty?”
“Bungee jumping is foreplay,” Briar says with mischief in those blue eyes. “I mean, the adrenaline, guys. The adrenaline.”
“Oh,” Hollis says, nodding. “Good point.”
But Briar is the only one who drinks, which surprises me. “You don’t seem the type to go bungee jumping.”
“Oh, I’m not. But my brother goaded me into it once. He is the type, and I’m a sucker for him. So I did it,” she says.
I add that nugget to the Briar intel file, her affection for her brother. It’s getting bigger, the file. I like it too much for my own good, and yet I can’t stop adding to it. “Never have I ever had a foursome,” I say.
Hollis shoots me a doubtful look. “Was that a foursome though? Our guy Worthy fucked his own hand.”
In no time, Gavin darts out said hand and thumps Hollis on the head.
“Ouch,” Hollis says, rubbing the spot.
“Good. I hope it hurt,” Gavin grumbles.
Hollis places his palm against his chest. “You hurt my feelings.”
“You don’t have any.”
Briar grins like she’s posing for a pleased meme as she lifts her mug. “I’ll drink. It counts.”
