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Chapter Thirteen
She made the last hundred meters of the walk at peace with herself and her decisions and felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. The spring day suddenly felt lighter and brighter. She was aware of the sweet trill of birdsong and the promise in the air that spoke of new beginnings. The cloud she had been living under had finally been lifted and knowing how close she had been to death, she suddenly felt alive and bursting with energy.
Coming here had most definitely been the right decision.
She pushed open the door with a smile on her face. She wanted to get those curtains hung and she’d brought a tool kit to try and fix the sofa bed, so it could be used properly. Plus, she was eager to see what all had been delivered.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open when she walked over the threshold and came face to face with two of the men she’d just been thinking about.
She hadn’t expected them to be here. Thought they’d just had stuff delivered the same as she had.
Lazarus and Jericho stopped what they were doing and looked at her. For the longest time none of them moved or spoke, but Shyla couldn’t help glancing around the room and feeling a pang of disappointment that Dante wasn’t here too.
Her feelings were complicated.
Shyla’s first reaction had been one of sheer joy at seeing them. That was closely followed by caution.
As much as her heart soared at the sight of them, she needed to remember everything that happened between them had just been a moment out of time. An illusion which had no basis in reality.
And they had… partners.
Recalling that was like a bucket of ice water thrown in her face and she stiffened and reached inside herself for polite indifference.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were going to be here. Perhaps I should come back another time. I don’t want to get in your way.” Shyla winced at the way the words sounded. She might be trying to hold back, but despite whatever else had occurred, these men had still saved her life. She could sound a bit more grateful.
“No!” The words shot out of Jericho’s mouth like a bullet, and he was in front of her before she’d taken more than one step back.
He grabbed her hands and tried to pull her in for a hug, but her bulky backpack got in the way. He pushed at the straps with little ceremony, so it fell off her shoulders, and then he was on her again. Pulling her close, burying his face in her neck, threading his fingers through her hair whilst the other arm banded her waist and held her tight.
Shyla basked in the moment, her pulse running riot and her heart squeezing painfully. She closed her eyes and allowed herself a minute to savor this. Just one moment before she pulled away and put the necessary distance between them.
Jericho was having none of that. When Shyla tried to move, he brought both hands up to cup her cheeks. No words were uttered as he searched her face, his expression earnest. She didn’t know what he was looking for, but the next moment his mouth was on hers, forceful and insistent and despite all her good intentions, Shyla didn’t have the will to resist him.
He plundered her lips, forcing them open as his marauding tongue met hers and demanded it dance with his own.
She felt the warmth at her back and knew Lazarus was there. Sandwiched between them might just be her favorite place to be.
When he lifted his head, Jericho didn’t invite any conversation. He seemed content to let actions speak louder than words and Shyla was too befuddled to find her own.
He looked at her kiss swollen lips, then into her eyes before grasping her shoulders and turning to face his brother. Then Lazarus’s lips were on her too and Shyla felt a curious sense of homecoming.
She tried her best to remind herself none of it was real. But she was weak. Here in this cabin, for one stolen moment, all she could do was submit to their insistent lips and her own desire.
When Lazarus finally lifted his head, they were both breathing heavily, and the level of Shyla’s desire had been ramped up even further by Jericho’s insistent fingers exploring the sensitive skin of her midriff and the nips and nuzzling kisses he pressed to her neck.
But she was no home wrecker and she refused to help them cheat. Not now she knew they both had a significant other. So as much as it hurt, she forced herself to pull away and put some distance between them.
“We can’t do this,” she said, her voice weak and husky, still dripping with the remnants of desire when she really wanted it to be forthright and forceful.
Jericho had taken a step towards her to try and pull her back, but her words had stopped him.
“You… don’t want us?” he asked. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet and flat, and she hated hearing it that way, but the words themselves irritated her. How could he think this was okay? If he was unconcerned about cheating, then he wasn’t the man she thought he was.
Shyla shook her head. He’d already proved that by pursuing her the first time, but if she had to spell it out to make him understand, then she would.
She was no man’s mistress.
“It doesn’t matter if I do or not,” she shot back. There was no point in pretending she wasn’t attracted to them; that would just prove her a liar. So she opted for the truth. “Neither of you are available, so pursuing something between us is not on the table.”
