* * *
Abel’s house was a dream. A two-story piece of modern art nestled at the end of a long driveway lined with cypress trees that reached toward the sky. I got out of the car and gaped at it, not even caring about Cole’s amused laugh as he glanced back at me to see why I wasn’t moving.
Of course, Abel was rich. All of them must be. I just never considered exactly how rich.
The house looked like two enormous boxes, the top one turned at an angle on the bottom one. The windows were coated with something that prevented me from seeing inside. That was handy since the facade of the second floor was floor-to-ceiling glass.
I walked on the stone-paved path toward the main door—a single giant piece of rough gray slate. Like those fancy cheeseboards they sold in Home Goods, only four times as thick and… Well, door sized.
Someone’s steps sounded behind me, and I turned to see that Abel had caught up.
“Your house is stunning,” I told him. “I’ve never seen a place like this.”
“Thanks.” He shrugged and waved for me to go in. Ezra, Silas, and Cole were already inside.
The interior of the house was just as awe inspiring. Long, straight lines and a color palette of black, moss green, and warm wood brought different aspects of the space together. I followed Abel to the second floor, where the kitchen and the living room were, and placed myself gently on one of the kitchen stools, afraid to move anything out of place.
Silas seemed to have no such reservations, flinging one of the cupboards open and pulling out five beer glasses that clinked on the granite countertop.
Abel, happy to let Silas play the part of the host, grabbed an acoustic guitar from the wall and collapsed on the U-shaped couch in the living room. He started to strum a melody I hadn’t heard before, and I left the kitchen to come over to him.
He glanced at me when the couch dipped as I sat down, but he didn’t stop his playing. It was a loose melody, and he played the same part again and again, making subtle changes and humming along.
“Are you writing something new?” I dared to ask when he placed his hand on the strings and looked out the enormous window.
His expression was pensive, and a muscle that ran along his neck fluttered when he began to talk. “No. It’s an old song we never released. I’ve been revisiting it to see if there’s something there. I’ve had…trouble with new material lately.”
He strummed the guitar a few more times, then lifted his gaze to me, brushing his long hair behind his ear to reveal more of his face. The green of his eyes matched the moss-green peppered throughout his house, I realized. The color held so much depth and pain and longing that when I saw it, my breath caught.What does Abel long for?
“You haven’t felt inspired?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I try not to force it. Not that I could even if I wanted to. It used to be that inspiration would just hit me during the most inopportune times—when I’m cooking, running, sleeping… But it’s been a while. My muse has been staying away.”
I hummed in agreement, eager to keep the longest conversation we’d ever had going. “It’s the same with me. I’ve always thought that inspiration can’t be forced to appear, although sometimes I wonder if it’s just a convenient excuse for not being more disciplined. What if one day my muse stops her visits? Will that be the end? Or can I negotiate with her for a bit more time?”
The corner of his lips rose by a few millimeters, but it may as well have been an earthquake if measured by its impact on my heart. “If you find out, I’d be very curious to know.”
I stared at that goddamn corner, and as he studied my face, the air between us became charged. His right arm was slung over the guitar, while the other held the neck in a loose grip, and I took in the long, elegant fingers of his hand. What would those fingers feel like curled around my neck?
“Food’s here,” Silas called out, breaking the tension between Abel and I. We stood up, and with one cautious look at each other, we made our way to the rest of the guys.
* * *
After three spring rolls, one pad thai, and a papaya salad, I felt like I was about to give birth. The beers that Silas and Cole kept pouring me didn’t help. At first, I protested, telling them I still needed to drive home after this, but they insisted they’d call me a cab when I was finally ready to leave.
We played some card games at the dining table before migrating to the couch, where I ended up being nestled between Ezra and Cole as Abel flicked through Netflix in search of a movie.
My buzz and the proximity of the two gorgeous men was putting me in a mood. Again, for what must’ve been the hundredth time in the past two days, images of Cole and Ezra writhing over a naked woman flashed before my eyes. The woman looked suspiciously like me, and she was thoroughly enjoying whatever they were doing to her.
I pressed my thighs closer together, a pathetic attempt to relieve the pressure building between my legs. Cole sat to my right, his legs slightly spread and stretching his jeans just enough for me to see how muscular his thighs were. His arm was resting on the couch behind my back. I leaned in an inch closer, and picked up on a subtle smoky smell.
“Do you smoke?” I asked him.
He dipped his chin to look at me, his face mere inches away from mine. “No. Why do you ask?”
I blushed. “You just have a smoky smell.”
His lips stretched into a lazy grin. “Are you getting a good whiff?”
