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He nodded. “I talk with the guys about it all the time. Communication is key; that’s what Devan says. And I think the guys like the idea of being tied closer together, though I’m not sure they could get much closer without being naked.”
“Do they…?”
Rigby shook his head this time. “Nah, I don’t think so. They’re close, and they’ve shared women in the past, but I think that’s the only connection between them. They love each other, though—the kind of love that you only get by going through some serious shit together.”
Yeah, I got that. Sometimes, when they were doing something together, they moved like they were one person.
“Why do I get the impression you still have doubts?” Rigby asked, tilting my chin up so he could kiss me again.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m cheating on you guys, even though logically, I know that's stupid. What are the guys doing right now? Are they lying alone in their beds, listening to us fuck with steadily growing resentment?”
He laughed. “Well, that's oddly specific, but I see what you mean. You’re worried that you won’t carve out enough time for each of us, and that's how bad feelings are born?”
“Yes!”
“Okay.” Reaching over to the night stand, he grabbed his phone and shot off a text to the group chat. I tried to wiggle up his body to see, but he just moved the phone away. “Nuh-uh. Now it has to be a surprise.”
Tossing the phone onto the floor, he moved down my body. He was trapped between my thighs, his body pinning mine down, and he flicked his tongue across my clit until I forgot about the damn group chat and our conversation andanythingbut his mouth on me.
Two orgasms later—one of which was in the shower—Rigby was toweling me dry, spending a disproportionate amount of time on my boobs. His phone chirped from the bathroom counter. Checking it, he dragged me back into his room and threw one of his shirts over my body. Scooping me up into his arms, he skipped from the room. “Your surprise is ready!”
He headed to the media room, which was one place I’d never spent much time. There was always something to do, and if I wanted to watch TV, I did it down in the living room where Huey’s portable playpen was.
When he pushed through the door, I was surprised to see Devan and River there, both in just sweatpants. At their feet was a pile of mattresses and blankets. It looked like a giant nest of bedding, and I was in love.
“We’ll work on getting something a bit more permanent for this room, but I thought it might help ease some of those thoughts if we could all be in here together. Still on the same floor as Huey,” Rigby told me softly, his arms around my waist. “This way you won’t have to worry if the guys are lying there stewing about not being able to hold you.”
River raised an eyebrow at his words. “Come on, Tiny. Let’s go to bed. I’m fucking exhausted.”
I didn’t even know where to lie, but Rigby took the decision out of my hands. Dropping me softly onto the mattresses on the floor, he went and grabbed a bottle of water from the minifridge in the corner. River slid beneath the blankets beside me, Devan bracketing me at the back.
“You’re lucky I’m tiny, otherwise this would never work. I need a third side,” I grumbled, but Rigby was back, climbing along the bottom of the mattress and hugging my cold feet.
“Just sleep, Star. We’re perfectly happy just being close to you,” Devan murmured.
I snuggled further into River’s chest, while Rigby put on a movie, the volume down low. This was nice. I was warm and happy. When was the last time I could’ve said that? Not with my ex; although he was lovely, he never made me feel even a fraction of what these guys made me feel.
Rigby gripped my calf, his soft snores humming through the room before the movie had even begun. River laughed, kissing my forehead, and before I knew it, I was asleep, cradled in the arms of my boyfriends.
Plural.
ChapterThirty-Three
DEVAN
“Sir?”
Tom’s voice seemed hesitant, and that always meant bad news. Did the Marcello merger get rejected in the final hour?
“What is it?” I strode into my office, flipping through my messages. There seemed to be a lot, mostly from associates, and most of them nondescript. The hell was going on? “Did our stock crash overnight and I missed it?”
Tom shook his head. “No, sir. Have you seen the news?”
I’d lingered in bed for as long as possible this morning, my morning wood nestled against Nova’s ass. It was the best way to wake up. I’d sprinted through my morning routine, which would normally have included watching the Finance channel.
“Not this morning.”
Tom winced as he handed me his tablet. “You might want to check it out, sir.”
