The bed dips suddenly, and I sit upright to see Conan crawling upthe bed. He throws himself back to the mattress, resting his head on my shoulder and slinging one leg over mine, his arm across my stomach.
I gape until the bed dips again, and I watch in shock as Noah tosses himself down on my right side. He drags me closer, covering my other leg with his and resting his head on top of mine as his hand slides down my chest.
Their hands must touch because they slap each other over my chest and stomach, and I narrow my eyes. “If you don’t stop, I’ll leave,” I warn.
They stop, and I close my eyes again. “It’s your fault,” Noah grumbles.
“Yours,” Conan argues.
“Both of you, go to sleep,” I order.
“Good night, baby.” Noah kisses my head, and all my annoyance flees at his soft, loving tone.
“Night, Mack.” Conan sighs against my throat. “Dream of us.”
THIRTY-THREE
I’m warm and so comfortable. Mackie feels incredible in my arms, so I scoot closer, breathing him in, but something tickles my nose. He smells wrong. I sniff harder as my consciousness returns, invading my half-asleep state. My head aches, my body is too hot, and my stomach feels like it’s ready to empty itself, but that smell . . .
My eyes open then widen.
Noah is turned toward me, his mouth open and eyes closed. I’m curled into his side. That’s why he smells wrong.
Glancing down, I find us tangled together in the bed, cuddling each other, and a yell erupts from my throat as I scramble back, only to get tangled in the bedding before I plummet off the edge. Groaning, I land on my ass and sprawl on the floor. I see Noah sitting up in confusion before he blinks, realizing what happened.
“Why the hell were you spooning me?” he roars, gripping the covers to his chest like he’s worried I’m going to take advantage of him.
“You were spooning me!” I shout as I climb to my knees, wincing at my aching head.
“You!” he retorts.
“You,” I argue.
“Where’s Mackie?” we say at the same time, and I rush to my feet, slipping as I hurry from the strange bedroom. Noah is right on my heels as I look down a corridor before hurrying down some stairs. When I freeze at the bottom, Noah slams into me and grumbles before pushing me. I fall off the last step and almost hit the floor again. I glare at Noah then meet Mackie’s eyes with a sheepish smile.
He’s wearing an apron, and his hands are pressed against the counter as he watches us. “I guess you two are finally awake.”
Shuffling over, I sink onto a bar stool. “Have you been up long?”
“A few hours. You were both loud and kept fighting over me in your sleep,” he mutters.
Noah sits, and we share a look.
“Did you sleep well?” Mackie asks, and we stare at him. “What happened?” he asks innocently, his head tilted to the side.
Noah and I share a narrow-eyed look. “Nothing,” we answer, a silent agreement in place.
“No?” he presses as he pushes two plates of food toward us. “So you weren’t cuddling?”
“What?” I scoff. “Not a chance?—”
“We weren’t,” Noah begins, and Mackie laughs. Picking up his phone, he turns to show us a picture, and horror washes through me.
It’s Noah and me twisted together in the sheets, cuddling and fully asleep. My eyes meet Mackie’s in panic, and I search his gaze for hurt or jealousy, but there’s just amusement there and a tad bit of evil intention.
Smiling happily, he looks at it before locking his phone. “I think I’ll keep it in case I need to blackmail you.”
I gape at him, but Noah looks proud. “I thought you were so sweet and kind,” I remark.
