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I slip into my shoes and smile at them. Sloan is standing by the door, his usual thundercloud of anger and irritation swirling around him, and Rory meets us as we head toward him.
He claps me on the shoulder, eyes bright with good humor, and I don’t shy away for a second. I can still feel Levi’s gaze on me, burning a hole into my back, and I’m so tempted to whip around and ask him what his problem is, but I’m too tired to get into it with him.
The temporary peace doesn’t last long though. We’re about halfway to the car when Levi finds his voice.
“So, Sloan and Mercy were fucking in the locker room,” he says mildly.
Rory’s head snaps around to stare at him. “They were what?”
“Fucking. Probably. When I walked in they were making out like a couple of horny teenagers at the prom.”
I glare at Levi for blabbing my business, and for being a fucking hypocrite. I don’t know why he gives a shit if Sloan and I hooked up, especially considering he likes to act like it doesn’t matter that he and I hooked up first. I don’t even know if the other guys know about that, and here he is running his mouth about things that have nothing to do with him.
The anger that was washed away by a good orgasm comes back to the surface. For fuck’s sake, it seems like I’m always going to be either pissed off or turned on around these assholes. Impulse takes hold, and I go with it, turning to face Rory and grabbing him by the shirt.
He has just enough time to give me a surprised look before I yank him closer and kiss him hard. For a second, he’s stiff and unyielding against me, like he’s not sure what to do with this new development. And then he’s kissing me back, leaning down into it with a pleased sound low in his throat.
It’s a good kiss, and it immediately reminds me of rolling around on the floor of their home gym, trying to get the upper hand and grinding against Rory’s cock at the same time. I can feel my cheeks flushing, the heat from earlier flaring up, and I can only hope that it’s dark enough out that none of them can tell. I already smell like sex anyway, so hopefully they won’t notice that my already soaked panties just got even wetter.
“All right, that’s enough. All of you, get in the fucking car.” Sloan’s voice cracks out like a whip to ruin the moment.
Rory’s grinning like a loon when I pull away from him, and I pin Levi with a look, hoping he got the message.
I don’t belong to anyone. Not to Sloan. Not to Levi. Not to Rory. I decide who I kiss and when, and none of these guys have the right to try to dictate what I do.
Levi stares back at me, his brown eyes burning in the darkness. I think for a second that he might say something, and I brace myself for whatever it might be. But he just turns away, opening the door and sliding into the front passenger seat of the car, and I roll my eyes. Of all the guys, Rory is the most easygoing, and he doesn’t seem to be all that upset about being used as a demonstration of my sexual independence.
His green eyes are a little heated when his gaze slides over me though, and I can see him adjusting his boner before he slides into the car, leaving me to climb in after him.
The drive back to the house is quiet, and I’m grateful as hell for that. I can feel a headache brewing, and the last thing I want to do is keep arguing with the three of these infuriating men.
Still, there’s some smug satisfaction in knowing that at least two of them have blue balls. Maybe even all three if Levi’s little tantrum is any indication. Good. They deserve it for being so irritating and not letting me have any privacy or agency or fun.
But then I lean back, getting comfortable in the seat, and I’m reminded of the ache in my own core, the need for more even though I already came earlier. I remember how hard Sloan was in his pants and how I really, really wanted him to fuck me in that moment, insatiable and eager for more, even though I didn’t want to be.
Just thinking about it kicks the fire in my veins back into a full blaze. Unfulfilled desire rages through my body, and my heart beats a bit faster, not letting me forget about it.
So, okay, maybe there are four people in the car who are sexually frustrated right now.
Ugh. I have to do better.
I have to keep my walls up and make that shit airtight. I’ve been letting them get under my skin way too easily, and that’s not acceptable. I can’t keep slipping up around them just because they’re hot and confident and too cocky for their own good.
That’s even more of a reason to keep them out and make sure they don’t get past my defenses or work their way under my skin. I’m trying to accomplish something, trying to make sure I can take them down, and I have to be strong. Not
hing is more important than that, and I’ll keep reminding myself as often as I have to.
I cross my arms and stare out the window, ignoring all of them. I can feel Rory looking at me every once in a while, but I don’t look back. I will the arousal flaring inside me back down, putting the lid on it because it’s not going to happen.
And I’m definitely not going to give in and touch myself in the shower tonight. That would be admitting defeat, and I never do that. I can be stronger than this, stronger than the low hum of need that seems determined to keep me on edge.
I have to be.
As soon as we get back to the house, I march past the guys and up the stairs, escaping to my room finally. I breathe a sigh of relief and slump against the closed door for a minute, glad to be away from them and on my own again. I think about showering to clear my head, but I’m too tired to make it all the way to the bathroom.
Instead, I change out of my dress and put on a fresh pair of panties and a tank top, happy to be comfortable. I text Scarlett that we’re back at the house, then put my phone on the nightstand to charge before turning out the light.
The bed is soft under me, and the pillows are calling my name. Maybe I just need a good night’s sleep, and I can try to forget this whole debacle of an evening ever happened. Or at least work on guarding myself against it ever happening again. I’ll definitely settle for that if it’s the best I can get.
