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What happens now? Do we act like we did in the hotel room and go our separate ways now? I get dressed and go home, with plans for this to happen again?
As Ezekiel goes back to the bathroom, I get my first real look at the room. There are no personal touches, just the bed, a TV mounted to the wall with a dresser next to it, and a full-length mirror it's a shame we didn't use. For some reason, and catching me by complete surprise, jealousy rushes through me and my mouth is opening before I even give it permission to.
"Whose room is this?" I ask, and even to my own ears, there's a bite in my voice.
Jeremiah must hear it too, because his brows are drawn down as he answers. "It's a guest bedroom."
"Is this something that happens often in here?" I press, internally cursing myself for continuing.
"We just moved here barely a month ago, Lexa." Ezekiel chuckles.
My eyes narrow at him. "You know what I mean. Is this the room you bring all the women you fuck to?"
Ezekiel grins. "Would you care if we did?"
"You two might like to share, but I don't."
What. The. Fuck.Panic rises in me, not at what they must be thinking of me right now, but at myself. When have I ever been jealous, or possessive? Never, because then that would mean a man could be possessive over me, feel he had some right to me, and I have never allowed that. So, why the hell am I sitting here saying words I have never imagined in my life flowing past my lips? Why the hell would I, should I care if they've brought other women here? I need to go. I've been here long enough, too long, if my thoughts are anything to go by.
"Am I supposed to take from what you just said that this will be happening again?" Jeremiah asks.
I should be rushing to say no, especially with all the confusing emotions rushing through me right now, but instead I hear my own voice saying, "Yes."
Jeremiah smiles. "Good. And you are the first woman we've ever brought here, and the first to lay in that bed."
Why does that make me feel so good? And then makes me feel so anxious?
"Will you stay?" Jeremiah asks.
"I don't think that's a good idea," I answer, my mind finally deciding to get a damn grip.
"Why is that?"
"I feel like we have to have some boundaries, if we're gonna continue doing this. Sex rarely stays just sex if it happens enough. Sleeping over would just...complicate things, and you're just tempting feelings to get involved."
Ezekiel just hums, and I take that as his agreement, but Jeremiah keeps pushing.
"Would that be so bad, for feelings to get involved?"
My mouth opens, and any, absolutely any other time, my answer would have been an immediate, definite yes, but in this moment, no sound leaves my mouth. It shocks me. It terrifies me. Why can't I say it? Why don't I want to say it?
"Yes," Ezekiel states.
That chills me. His one word leaves no more for interpretation. It's the exact answer I should have given, and yet, hearing it from him makes something inside of me that I refuse to acknowledge just yet wither in disappointment.
"It would be bad," he continues.
Jeremiah's eyes cut to him, a clear reprimand in his gaze, but Ezekiel just stares right back at him. It at least gives me time to come to my senses a little without their eyes on me.
"I, uh, I should go," I say, beginning to get out of bed. I bring the sheet with me, covering myself with it.
"Stay, please," Jeremiah softly says. "We'll leave. You'll have the room to yourself again like at the resort. Stay."
But I'm looking at Ezekiel out the corner of my eye because while it's clear Jeremiah wants me to stay, it's not so clear if Ezekiel does. Then, he's walking toward me, his face losing its sternness it had gotten while when he and Jeremiah were having some silent conversation. His hand reaches out, pulling the sheet down.
"Don't hide yourself from us," he tells me. "I'm sorry. A moment ago, that was all me and nothing to do with you. Please, stay."
What does he mean? What even was the look they shared a moment ago? And although I should be glad that he agrees that feelings have no place in what we're doing, I find myself wanting to demand he tell me why instead.
