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As he pulls out of the parking lot he says, “Let me add you to my plan.”
“What?” I glance at him. “No. I can—”
“Hear me out. If I add you, it’ll cost me less than ten dollars. You save money, plus, they won’t be able to find you.”
He has a point. My parents have no idea that I’m dating Matt. “Okay, but you’ll let me pay you for that.”
“Why don’t you buy me lunch?” he suggests. “That should pay for the first month and the fees. Are you still up for the trip of a lifetime?”
I open my mouth and close it.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to go. We understand you prefer to avoid California.”
“Thank you,” I mumble. “For being so understanding with me.”
I sigh with relief, but is this the end of Martin? Will he try something else?
ChapterTwelve
Thea
It’s beena long week and it’s Wednesday.
First, I had to give up my phone number. Then, a client returned her jewelry order because the stones had some discoloration. There’s a note in my website that I’m not responsible for the stone coloring, but I had to reimburse her everything—including the shipping she paid to return the pieces.
Then, I found some undesired roommates.
Thankfully, Mason Bradley is fumigating the apartment this weekend. The number of spiders began to creep me out when I killed number thirty-seven. For the next seven days, I’ll stay at Matt’s place.
Coincidentally, my two boyfriends are in town. Since I didn’t fly to California, Tristan flew back from Connecticut to stay with us. The three of us being in one place is a rare occasion, as both of them stay busy.
For Tristan, October through December is a heavy season filled with events. Matt’s company is filming the pilots for the fall lineup and some movies.
“Anybody home?” I lift my gaze as Tristan steps into the house. “Hey, my beautiful butterfly, how are you?”
I look down at my phone screen to check the time. Eleven. I narrow my gaze, waiting for some sort of explanation. This is my work space and time while he and Matt are working. His left arm is behind his back, and his silly smile draws me to him.
“We wanted to share lunch with you.” He grins and then shows me his hand. He’s holding a plush owl and a paper bag. “I found this at the store next door, and it made me think of him and your new obsession with collecting owls.”
“I like what you’re wearing.” His fingers trace my naked back.
I try to recall what my therapist and I spoke about in the last session about physical contact. I see her twice a week because I’m working hard to break myself from the past. For me. For them.
My body is getting hungry for their touch. Frightened about the outcome, each time we hug or touch, I want more than what I’m willing to do, but also fearful of taking a step that will make me want to drink. It’s hard not to desire them.
Like now, my crochet top only stops at my midriff. The touch of his fingers on my bare skin makes me sizzle with desire. I close my eyes, imagining what it would be like if his fingers traveled north, and my nipples tighten as my lower part clenches with desire.
“Coop.” I let the four letters out with a soft breath.
His forehead leans against mine, and as I open my eyes, his are filled with sadness and desire. I want to replace that look with joy. One of his hands tightens around my back and the other weaves his fingers through my hair, resting on the nape of my neck. My heartbeat gains momentum, pounding hard.
And I dare.
I place my mouth on his, parting my lips for him. He doesn’t wait. His tongue takes charge, deepening the kiss, frantically searching for something within me that I want to give him. Our breaths become labored.
My skin heats with every second that passes. And I let them. I let my hands explore him—his torso, his face—and I hope this never ends. My head pounds, my heart is about to break through my chest, and nothing else exists at this moment except us. If only Matt were here, I’d be complete.
Where did that come from?I have kissed them both separately, but as this becomes more heated, it’s as if there is a burning need to have Matt here—with us.
