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I turn off the tap before I get totally pruney and wrap a towel around myself. Then I step back out into the bedroom.
Chase and Dax are both still in the room. Dax is sitting on the bed, and Chase is leaning against a large dresser nearby. They’re talking in low voices, so quiet I can’t make the words out, and the sight of them makes my heart squeeze.
I’m envious of the bond these two boys share. I don’t think most people in the world have that kind of connection to another human being—not to their parents or siblings or lovers. This is something beyond closeness, beyond brotherly affection. It’s like they’re two sides of a coin, each boy a whole, unique individual while at the same time a part of something bigger than himself.
They look up as they notice the bathroom door swing open, and their gazes catch on me—on the soft towel wrapped around my body, and the expanse of bare shoulder and strands of wet hair above it.
Dax clears his throat and gestures to the bed beside him, where I notice a pair of men’s athletic shorts and a t-shirt are laid out. “We got you some clothes.”
“Thanks.”
I step forward to collect them, and as I grab the two items, something occurs to me. I’ve seen the t-shirt on Chase before, but I’m pretty sure the shorts belong to Dax. Lifting a brow, I glance up at the two of them.
“Are these… from both of you?”
Chase’s grin is a little bashful. “Well, we each wanted to contribute something to the cause, so to speak.”
A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth even as a flush of warmth spreads through my body. I grab the t-shirt and shorts and return to the bathroom, hanging up the towel before slipping them on. They’re both huge on me. I probably could’ve gotten away with just the shirt, since it hangs down past my ass, but I like the way the clothes surround me with Dax’s sweet clove scent and Chase’s bergamot aroma. They make me feel cozy and safe.
Wiping the steam from the mirror, I glance at my reflection. The bruise on the side of my head is a real whopper, deep purple and blue. It hurts when I poke at it, but the throbbing headache has receded. I comb my fingers through my damp hair, separating the dark strands, then head back into the bedroom.
This time, Dax and Chase are both sitting on the bed, and my heart gives a little flutter when I see them. They stand up as I pad over, and Dax pulls back the covers for me without a word. They changed while I was in the shower and are now dressed in clothes similar to mine. We could be a matching trio, except for the fact that what I’m wearing barely fits. I had to roll the waistband of the shorts a couple times to make them stay up.
I glance at the two boys but don’t hesitate, crawling into the middle of the bed and letting my head fall back on the pillows. The twins share a look, then slide onto the mattress on either side of me.
Dax flips a switch on the wall near the headboard, and the lights go out, plunging us into near-darkness.
Two large, firm bodies settle in next to me, encasing my body from either side. I lie on my back, gazing up at the shadowy ceiling as Dax’s hand rests on my stomach and Chase’s palm rests on my hip.
I could probably fall asleep right now—in fact, I can feel my body tugging me toward unconsciousness—but I suddenly find that I don’t want to.
I’m acutely aware of every inch of my body, of every place Dax or Chase brushes up against me, of the feel of their breath and the heat of their skin. It takes effort to keep my own breath from speeding up as I whisper into the darkness, “Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“Anytime.”
Dax’s lips brush against the shell of my ear, and my breath hitches. I can feel their bodies relax next to mine as they drift toward sleep, and I try to let myself go with them, try to let their comforting presence slow down my whirring brain.
But every time my eyelids droop closed, they pop back open again a few seconds later.
“Low.” Chase’s whispered voice holds an edge of amusement when he speaks up ten minutes later. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Uh…” I turn my head slightly to peer at him in the dim light. “Sleeping?”
“No, you’re not. You’re stiff as a fucking board, and you’re definitely not sleeping.”
“Oh. Sorry.” I shift a little on the soft mattress, willing my body to relax.
“Don’t be sorry.” He rises up onto his elbows to peer down at me, and I feel Dax move on my other side, indicating he’s awake too. “You had a crazy fucking day.”
“Yeah.” I let out a noise that can’t decide if it wants to be a laugh or a groan as I nod. “I just can’t stop thinking about it all.”
“Want help?”
“With what?”
“To stop thinking about it for a while. We could distract you.”
The room is dim, but my vision is adjusting to the darkness enough to make out his shadowy face. His eyes gleam in the moonlight that slips through the blinds, and there’s a rough edge to his voice that makes a slow burn of arousal spread through me.
