Leander’s car smells like him. Clean, sharp—sweat and soap and something darker underneath that I can never fucking name but always crave. I’m half-sprawled in the passenger seat, head tipped back against the leather, while Jax groans like death in the back.
My buzz hasn’t worn off yet, but the world feels steadier now that Lee’s behind the wheel.
Every time his hands tighten on the steering wheel, veins flexing, tendons sharp in the dim glow of passing streetlights, I want to bite them. Want to suck the breath out of his lungs until he can’t even think of anyone but me.
“God,” Jax groans from the backseat, breaking my spiral. “You two think you’re slick, huh?”
Leander glances at me, just the twitch of his eyes from the road, but I see it. That flicker of panic.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I mutter, twisting around halfway, squinting at Jax.
He laughs, weak and sloppy, his head thunking against the window. “Don’t play dumb. You hate driving, Phoenix.Hateit. You’ve made me drive us everywhere since we were, what, seventeen? And suddenly you’re chauffeuring this guy everywhere? Practically glued to his hip?” He groans again, clutching his stomach like the sound itself hurt him.
“You hate driving?” Leander says with a shocked tone.
My head lolls to the side to look at him. “Not when you’re in the car. I like to take care of you.”
“Ooooh, so he’s obsessed with you, rookie. That makes more sense,” Jax quips.
Leander’s knuckles whiten on the steering wheel, and my lips curl, teeth catching on the inside of my cheek. Obsession. Yeah. He’s not wrong. But no one gets to say it out loud.
“Shut up, Jax,” I growl, sinking lower into the seat, eyes dragging back to Leander. My Leander. His jaw’s tight, lips pressed into a line, but his ears are pink.
Jax chuckles, his words slurring slightly. “You don’t fool me. Whole team thinks you’ve just taken him under your wing, but I knew.” Jax puts his chin on Lee’s seat. “Leander’s too pretty for you to leave him alone.”
I shove Jax’s forehead back, almost growling.
“Phoenix,” Leander snaps.
I pull back, crossing my arms.
“Yeah, totally whipped,” Jax mumbles.
Leander exhales slow through his nose. Doesn’t bite, doesn’t snap. That control of his drives me insane. I want to ruin it, tear it down until he’s panting and raw. But not with Jax watching.
The rest of the drive is quiet except for Jax giving every speck of proof of how he knew we were together.
By the time we stumble into my house, I’m dragging. The buzz feels sour, like it’s eating holes in my chest, leaving nothing but hunger behind. Leander herds us down the hall, steady as ever, and I let him because—fuck—I’d follow him anywhere.
“Bed,” he orders, pointing at my room like he owns the place.
Jax pulls off his shirt and jeans revealing the ugliest pair of pink donut boxers. Then, collapses face-first onto my mattress, groaning like he’s been shot.
I laugh low and peel off my shirt, letting it drop. “You’re not even gonna argue, huh? Thought you hated sleeping at mine.”
“Too drunk to care,” Jax mutters into the pillow.
Leander sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. He looks exhausted, but he still hovers like he’s the one responsible for keeping us alive. Like he didn’t already do that by showing up tonight.
I climb into bed next to Jax, then curl my fingers around Leander’s wrist before he can pull back. My grip’s sloppy but desperate.
“Stay.”
He hesitates. I see the war in his eyes, the urge to keep that perfect line between us. But he doesn’t win it. Not tonight.
“Fine.”
Lee goes over to his pile of stuff in the corner, quickly pulling on one of my old high school t-shirts and some basketball shorts. He slides onto the mattress, stiff at first, then warm when I tug him closer.
