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Shiloh lets out a sigh and drops his head back. “You’re my Atty. And yeah, I…” He swallows hard, eyes trained on the ceiling. “I think I’ve always been in love with you. Just too confused to see it. I’ll get over it. I want you to be happy, and if my brother makes you happy—no matter how gross the thought is—then I want that for you.” He gives us both a strained yet playful smile. “Maybe this mini-vacation will help me reboot those pesky feelings.”
Atlas throws an arm around him and noogies his bed head until Shiloh grumbles, and then they both fall into a fit of laughter.
“I do have one question, though,” Shiloh says, and there’s a sneaky glint in his eye that makes me wonder if he’s about to throw one of those Top or Bottom questions out, which I will one hundred percent veto. “What about your thing with Noah? Aren’t you two like… kissing cuddle buddies or something like that?”
I chuckle, dropping my eyes to the blanket before searching out Atlas’ honey stare. Before I can find words, he beats me to it.
“I’d never make Blair give up what he has with Noah. It’s intimate, sure, but it’s special to them.” He reaches over the bed to grab my hand, slotting our fingers together like a perfect puzzle. “I firmly believe that there’s too much love inside of us to say that we can only ever have one loving relationship at a time. And it’s not my place to tell Blair how he’s allowed to love someone.”
“So by that logic,” Shiloh cuts in with a shit-eating grin, “you, Atlas Huxley, could be my kissing buddy when I get out, right?”
All three of us crack up at the same time, only catching our breath when Shiloh breaks out in a coughing fit. Somehow we manage to fit us all lying on Shiloh’s bed together: Shiloh in the center against the pillows, Atlas tucked around him on one side, and me with my arm around Shiloh’s middle and head hanging off the bed.
“I love both of you,” Shiloh says after a few minutes of comfortable silence. “But if I have to watch you make out, I’ll gag.”
This is what I think happiness is supposed to feel like.
This is what I’ve been chasing with strangers behind closed doors.
It’s the passionate way my love for Atlas flares with every innocent touch, combusts with each intent for more. It’s the pure—sometimes overbearing—love for my brother that has been like a lifeline to all the pain I’ve harbored inside.
These are the connections I’ve been searching for.
The family I’ve needed.
Not one that hurts and takes.
One that heals. One that gives and forces me to let go.
To share the burden.
Because as much as they matter to me, I matter too.
Chapter 27
Atlas
We’ve found that my most erogenous spots are my thighs. Blair’s favorite thing is hiking my legs around his waist and dragging his nails over them, finding every hidden spot that makes me twitch and moan.
That’s why I’m lying on my back in the middle of Blair’s mattress, legs spread as I drag my fingers through the creases and over the quivering skin. I’m not fully hard, but my cock is sitting in a nice in-between state that makes my body buzz and drives Blair wild. He loves to touch and tease me, getting me started but stopping so I stay in a semi-aroused state, and it’s a beautiful form of bliss.
My avoidance of orgasms hasn’t gotten in the way of our intimacy; it’s made it more intense. We don’t touch one another with the intention of getting off; we do it because it deepens our desire, feeds the love we both feel until it’s overflowing.
“Blair,” I moan, dragging my hands up my body and fisting them into my hair. “Bumble B.”
“Yes, handsome?”
I open my eyes and spot Blair in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe like he doesn’t have a care in the world. My cock pulses, wanting the only touch it’s ever craved. Blair grins and pushes off the doorway, and I swear it takes actual self control not to grow fully hard at how sexy he looks.
Every single tattoo on his body is on full display, but he isn’t naked. I don’t know where the idea came from, but I can’t say I have any complaints: Pink lace cups his bulge, extending down his thighs into garters. His hair is down but pinned away from his face, and he’s wearing that eyeliner that I want to make a mess of.
He stops beside the bed and leans down, tipping my chin up with a finger and brushing his lips on mine. “You green?”
I answer by threading a hand through his hair and dragging him on top of me. He chuckles but willingly moves, letting me grip his hips and guide him to straddle mine. He drops his weight down for the briefest second, stroking my cock with his covered one, but then he’s back to hovering, focusing on the battle of power between our mouths.
Usually I give in, because Blair likes the control, and I like the peace it provides. Once he’s made a wreck of my mouth, he pulls away and plants his hands on my chest, resting his hips on mine in a tease of friction.
“You want this?” he asks, and I slide my hands from his hips to his ass where the g-string rests between his cheeks. I squeeze him firmly but gently, and he moans and rocks forward. He gives me a halfhearted glare, but it’s washed out by the smile on his face and the heat in his eyes as he slides a hand down his body to grip his soft cock through the lace. “Want to do me a favor?”
