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That wasn’t part of his rules. “I’m not interested in a relationship,” he made himself say. “But I can do sex.”
“You were pretty okay,” Peyton said, full of cheek.
“I was ‘pretty okay’?” Jericho said. “That sounds like a barely passing score.” Peyton was being a brat and lying—Jericho was a fantastic fucking lay.
“We could always try again and see how you do this time?” His tone was mocking, but Jericho could hear the thick lust in it. It turned him inside out.
“I love a good challenge.” That sounded like the best challenge he’d ever heard. Marathon sex with a scorecard? Sign him up.
“Blueberries don’t go with the bananas,” Will mumbled.
Their gazes fixed on Will in surprise. He hadn’t moved from where his head was buried. Jericho did what he’d been wanting to from the moment Will had curled up down there. He threaded his fingers through his hair, letting the weight of the strands slide across his skin, making it sensitive and tingling.
“We can keep them separate,” Jericho murmured.
“His fruits aren’t allowed to touch,” Peyton said with a chuckle.
“Why?”
“No idea. He’s always been anal about it.”
“Just fruit?”
“Yeah. Other stuff is fine. He mixes his peas in with his mashed potato and has this weird habit of spreading zucchini between two thick pieces of cooked pumpkin and eating them like a sandwich. If you ate a sandwich with a knife and fork.”
Jericho needed to see that. For… research… purposes. “You’ve known him a long time.”
“Six years? Roughly, give or take. I don’t have a calendar with hearts on it on the day we met.”
Something in Peyton’s eyes told Jericho that maybe he didn’t have the exact date down, but the memory was deeply entrenched. There was a story there. Those kinds of memories were hard to shake.
“I bet he’d be sad to hear that,” Jericho said.
His eyes flitted momentarily to the doorway as Sebastian and Quinn came through. Sebastian had two mugs in his hand, and Quinn was juggling three with ease.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if hehadone,” Peyton said with a quiet chuckle.
“With stickers.” Jericho was definitely going to ask.
“Who has stickers?” Sebastian asked. He handed one of the mugs to Peyton, taking a kiss in return. He carefully sat on the two-seater that was diagonal from the couch, bracketing in the coffee table.
Quinn put one on the wooden surface and handed one to Jericho, forcing him to let go of Peyton’s hand—Quinn glanced at where they’d been joined without a word—before settling next to Sebastian. Sebastian immediately turned, curling his back into the corner and tucking his socked feet under Quinn’s thighs.
“We think maybe Will,” Peyton answered.
“I can see that,” Sebastian said, nodding. “I bet he put love hearts above his i’s as a kid.”
“You’d have to ask Nate or Misha,” Peyton said. “They’re more likely to know than his brothers.”
“Who?” Quinn asked.
“His two best friends growing up.”
Quinn frowned. “I’ve never seen them before?”
“They don’t live in Sydney, and they don’t get a lot of chances to visit. Nate is an officer in the Navy, a submariner diver stationed in Perth. Misha is an air force fighter pilot, currently in Darwin. His three years there are almost up, and I think he’s ready to come home for a stint, so you might meet him soon.”
“That’s… an eclectic trio,” Sebastian remarked.
