“What about us being a train wreck?” I counter, even as my body yields to his touch.
“Heard that, huh? I’m willing to risk it,” he replies, his fingers dipping under my shirt and tracing patterns along the base of my spine.
“Why?” I inquire, trembling, because I’m about to dive over the cliff all over again. Risk another heart tied to mine.
“Because I think I love you too,” Donovan whispers, confirming what I already knew. His love is what guided me back to myself.
Our faces are close enough that I can feel the movement of his lips, but he still waits, his command hanging in the air for me to obey.
“Nolan,” I choke out, fighting against the draw of my feelings for Donovan. “What about him? Aren’t you together?”
My question seems to puncture the moment—his brows knitting together in a frown. “Why do you think we’re together?” he asks, but the question trails off as the answer already seems to occur to him. His frown turns to a wicked grin. “Now I know how you figured out my birthday.”
“I…don’t know…what you’re…” I stammer, a blush burning along my skin. I try to make another escape, but his wandering hand turns into an iron band around my waist, flattening me against his body.
His mouth runs along my jaw to my ear and he purrs, “Nolan left the door open, didn’t he? Did you enjoy what you saw, Angel? Did it turn you on?”
“I didn’t watch,” I blurt, heat already pooling low in my belly from what little I witnessed. “I mean, I didn’t see much. Once I realized what was happening, I left. I promise.”
He releases a dark chuckle. “Next time, walk in.”
“Next time?” I squeak, the air suddenly too thick to breathe. “You would…Nolan would…you both would want me…at the same time?”
“Only if you want to,” he informs me, reclining against the tree that caused this whole mess, giving me some space to breathe.
“Huh,” I utter, the wheels in my head turning, but unsure what they will eventually unfold.
Since we’ve moved on from such uncomfortable topics like feelings and on to his more favorite ones like sex, Donovan seems overall more content. He tucks strands of my hair behind my ear, seemingly comfortable to wait for me to figure out how I feel on the subject.
“And that wouldn’t make you jealous?” I question, scanning his face for any expression of discomfort.
“Nope,” he answers easily, his fingers back to exploring my hips and lower back, teasing along the edges of my ass. “Would you be jealous?”
“Well, no, but I’m the interloper in this scenario,” I reply just as easily, choosing not to attempt to understand why I turn into a stuttering moron when he teases me about watching, but I’m fine discussing the hypothetical situation of me joining them.
“I don’t know how much of that dance you remember since you were hopped up on vampire bite, but trust me, you’d be welcome,” he assures me with a heated stare.
Vampire bite or not, that would’ve been impossible to forget.
“Are you sure about Nolan?” I press, yawning and dropping my head against his shoulder. “He’s been pretty adamant that we are ‘just friends.’”
Donovan sighs, and his exploratory touches go back to gentle strokes in well-known safe zones. He nabs one of my hands and laces our fingers together. “Ignoring the fact that there’s nothing wrong with friends fucking, Nolan strikes me as more of a man that protests too much. I don’t think it’s you he’s trying to convince.”
“Shit,” I groan, burying my face against his neck. “Not another one.”
“Another one?” he echoes, squeezing my hand. “How many of us do you have tied around these fingers of yours?”
He doesn’t sound angry, just curious, which leaves me strangely worried. Unlike Connor, I don’t have a hidden empath barometer on Donovan to tell me if he’s faking calm. Not that he’s really known for faking anything, let alone calm.
“It’s been a weird couple of months. A lot has happened, you know?” I begin, hoping that his calm isn’t fake and I won’t have to zap him to keep him from punching one of the others or something. “And with so much happening…”
“Spit it out. You know how much I hate dancing around the point,” Donovan urges, then shortly after adds, “I promise not to get mad.”
I gather my courage and sit up enough so I can look into his eyes. So I can see the truth and how much it hurts him. With our gazes locked, and as fast as the words will come out, I confess, “I’ve kissed or have been kissed by the others. Except for Felix, but that probably has more to do with the fact he’s a ghost.”
Not that I haven’t defiled the poor guy in my dreams.
“Leaving the best for last, I see,” he croons, sounding completely and unbelievably normal. “Well, mostly last. I’m not waiting for ghost wonder to get his first.”
