Ryker’s already soaping up his hair when I join him. Liam closes the door of the cubicle, and it’s a tight squeeze for all three of us. Sandwiched in the middle, it’s best I let my arms hang limp rather than elbow Liam while he’s pouring shower gel into his palm. This turns out to be the cue for Liam and Ryker to soap me up and wash me down. I squirm beneath their hands, but when Liam massages my scalp, I’m lost to the sensation. Ryker rubs my shoulder, and the top of my chest, and they’re both touching me with firm hands. It feels incredible.
“What was that about keeping your hands to yourself?” I ask.
Ryker hums. “I need to clarify. Wecankeep our hands to ourselves, you know . . . if we want to, but right now we don’t—correction, we can’t.”
My fingers twitch involuntarily, then I tentatively reach for Ryker’s waist. I hold on to him and let my eyes slip shut. I don’t fear I’ll fall over with Ryker as my anchor, and that means I can concentrate on the sensation of them touching my skin, strokingand caressing. I groan and their touches get harder. Four hands work me over until I’m practically purring.
I’ve had massages before, but never standing upright, naked, with soap suds running down my legs, and never from my two best friends. Ryker’s hands cup my arse; his fingers rub down my crack and brush my hole. I don’t react how I thought I would. I’m far too relaxed, and kitten weak. I let him touch me, clean me, but his fingers get firmer, more insistent. I think of the sex toy. I think of pushing it in while Ryker rubs my hole.
He withdraws his fingers with a curse.
“What?” I whisper.
“You know what,” Ryker replies.
“Do I?”
Liam pinches me.
“Ow!”
The shower shuts off abruptly.
“Hey,” I whine. “Why did you do that?”
Ryker laughs. “Liam and I are getting a little overexcited about having you in our shower.” A rare blush hits his cheeks.
Liam yanks the shower door open, and I shiver as the steam escapes. The shiver, the steam . . . I don’t know what exactly, but it triggers a coughing fit. I muffle it with the towel Liam holds out to me, then pop my head up to apologise.
“There’s no need,” Liam says. His eyes flick to Ryker, who’s still standing in the shower with one hand rubbing his back as he watches me choke on my lungs.
“I’m fine,” he says.
“Bullshit,” Liam replies.
Ryker sighs as he gets out and catches the towel Liam throws his way. After a quick rubdown, he grabs one of the gowns hanging from the peg on the back of the door.
“I’ll go take some more ibuprofen.”
Liam turns away from the door, missing the wink Ryker directs my way as he leaves. Liam wraps a white fluffy towel around me and pats me dry. I’m still holding the first towel, the one I coughed all over. When I try to keep eye contact with Liam, it’s he who breaks it.
Ryker told me about what Liam said in the hospital while I was sleeping, the suggestion that’s he’s not good enough for me and the fear he’ll let me down. That thought has settled in Liam like a stone on the ocean floor, but I’m the hand that’s going delve down to grab it.
With Liam, his defences need to be lowered for me to breach him, but tired or not, I’m going to try.
“Nine years old,” I whisper.
He pauses, then continues to pat me down. Maybe I should be offended at being treated like a wet dog, but I can tell Liam likes that he’s got something to do, otherwise we’d both be standing here waiting for Ryker to return with this odd tension in the air.
“That’s a long time,” I say. “A long time to think, and fantasise, and hope . . .”
Liam’s nostrils flare. He lays the towel over the top of my head, then squeezes my hair to get the moisture out.
“What if . . .”
I let the two words hang there for what feels like minutes.
“If?” he says, and I’ve got him hooked, now it’s time to reel him in.
