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Joy, happiness, laughter, pleasure.
With a smile playing on my lips, I shake my head as my thoughts return to the two men in the bed beyond the door.
Having Mav’s hands on me, his lips on mine… and other places, is everything I’ve dreamed of for five-long frustrating years. And if all that comes out of this is that we’ve broken down that barrier then I’m okay with that. If we achieve a few other things along the way then even better.
After brushing my teeth and splashing my face with water, I step back into the bedroom.
Both men are in exactly the same position as when I left them and I stand there for the longest time just watching them, studying their ink, their expressions, and their bodies before I manage to convince myself that I need coffee more than I need to perv over them.
Okay, I’m not sure that could possibly be the case in any universe, but I’m happy to lie to myself in order to leave them in peace.
The house is silent as I make my way downstairs and into the kitchen. And for the first time ever, the scent of rich coffee doesn’t permeate the air.
Could I have beaten Reid to the machine?
The morning sun streams in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, any evidence of the storm the night before long gone.
My eyes linger on the table as the image of dancing up there with JD comes back to me, my blood heating as I think about how it must have looked to Mav and Reid.
Shaking my head, I push those images aside and make a beeline for the coffee machine, getting it started. I might be awake and seemingly functioning, but that doesn’t mean I’m not suffering from overindulging the night before.
I can’t remember the last time I drank that much and my dehydrated body knows it.
Pulling a bottle of water from the refrigerator, I down the whole thing.
I repeat my actions from the other morning and pull a couple of frozen part-baked pastries from the freezer and throw them into the air fryer. And once everything is done, I decide to make the most of a different room in the house, seeing as I’m alone.
The living room is much cozier than the kitchen. The couches are huge, the soft cushions look like they’d swallow me whole.
Curling my legs beneath me, I settle into the deepest corner of the sectional and breathe a happy, sated sigh.
Ignoring my coffee for a bit—because I’m not as hardcore as Reid—I focus on my pain au chocolat. I devour the first one, hunger from my exertion the night before taking over, before I start on the second one.
Regretting not cooking more, I abandon my plate on the cushion beside me and reach for my coffee.
I enjoy it in a way I don’t think I have since the morning before my fateful date with Kane over two weeks ago now.
It was a lovely late summer morning and I took my coffee and breakfast out to our deck after Mav left for the clubhouse to meet with his father.
Hell, what am I saying? It was way before that I sat and drank my morning coffee without the weight of the world pressing down on my shoulders. The morning of the day I found myself in the back of one of Victor Harris’s goons’ cars being driven out to a secret location so the man himself could steal my soul and sell it to whoever he felt corrupt enough to manhandle it for an hour or so.
Anger churns in my stomach as I think about that day. As he laid out every single reason why I couldn’t argue. Being in the middle of nowhere with four armed assholes was the least of my worries.
I knew the second I was dragged into the back of that car that I was fucked. If Victor wanted me then I knew he’d have enough dirt to ensure I did exactly as he wanted.
Although I have to confess, I didn’t ever expect to end up here.
A laugh bubbles up, spilling easily from my lips, and it doesn’t stop.
It feels good, freeing to let it flow. And before long, I’m reaching up and wiping tears from my eyes.
Am I still drunk and stoned from last night? Yeah, there’s a really good fucking chance.
Feeling on top of the world, despite everything that’s happening around me, I climb across the couch to grab the remote for the massive TV Reid has strapped to the wall opposite me.
Turning it on, I find his apps and scan through what he’s got.
“No fucking way.” I gasp when I find one that steals my attention. “Who really are you, Reid Harris?” I mutter, opening the app and scrolling through to find what I want.
