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But he didn’t know about Flynn and me, how our relationship had developed. I needed to explain it so he understood.
“Flynn has always been my safe harbour, just like you are.” I touched his cheek with my thumb and smiled, heat rising in my own at the same time. How was I shy in front of him? He’d literally just had his fist in my cunt. He’d fucked my arse only a few days earlier, or maybe a week—I was still all over the place since Monaco. He’d seen me at my best and worst, known me forever, and yet, admitting that he was special was enough to have me blushing like a schoolgirl. I huffed out a self-conscious laugh, and he smirked, tracing the colour travelling down my neck to my chest, smearing the drying cum on me.
“It was Tristan who made us face up to what was in front of us. That first time I met him, I wanted to kill him—drive the heel of my Louboutin straight into his eye.”
Ry snorted out a laugh and gave a half nod in agreement.
“Then he went all caveman on me but said, ‘Angel, kiss our kitten.’ Flynn stepped up in front of me, and it was as if everything that had been right there the whole time snapped into focus.” I snapped my fingers and shook my head in disbelief. I still couldn’t fathom how much had changed.
“I had no idea. I was so clueless. I hadn’t let myself think about you or Flynn that way other than in passing because I’d been too scared to lose either one of you. But I’d been hurting Flynn the whole time. And now you’re telling me that I was doing the same to you?”
“So I have Tristan to thank?” he asked before he pressed his lips together in a ghost of a smile.
“You never answered my question,” I reminded Ry. “Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”
He hummed. “Noticed that, did you?” He nibbled on his cut lip again and winced before swiping his tongue over the raw patch of skin. “I wanted all of you, and you didn’t see me the same way.”
“Ry—”
“It’s okay. It wasn’t our time. But maybe now… maybe we can try for something.”
“You know you have all of me, right?” I asked as I itched at the dried cum on my chest. I needed a shower, but I wasn’t going anywhere. It’d be a miracle if we hadn’t glued ourselves together by now anyway. “But I can’t be exclusively yours. I can’t—I won’t—give them up.”
“I’m still working shit out, Zali. I….” He shifted, pulling away from me until he was seated at one end of the couch with me at the other. He tucked himself in, zipping up his cargo shorts with short, sharp movements and then stood up, his back to me as he stomped over to the windows. “I don’t know how I’m gonna go with the others, okay? I need it to be just us.”
I tensed, my muscles going on high alert. Sitting up slowly, I shrugged off my torn dress and wiped myself down with it. “I need you to elaborate.”
He shrugged, but I saw straight through his attempt at brushing off his concerns. The tense lines in his back and the way he held his head rigid told me just how stressed he was about it. “The guys are together too.”
“And?” I asked, stretching out the word as I tossed the scraps of material aside and walked over to him. I held out my hands in supplication even though he couldn’t see me. “You’re not giving me much to work with, Ry.”
Ry tangled his hands in his hair, and he let out a frustrated growl. He slammed his fist against the window, the toughened glass rippling under the force of his hit.
The picture before me was a study in contrasts. Ry’s mood had turned dark and stormy, while outside, it was a picture-perfect night. Stars sparkled overhead, the moon low and full in the night sky, reflecting off the water and lighting up the surrounding bay.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath before repeating it louder.
I moved over to him and wrapped my arms around his waist, resting my forehead against his spine. Every muscle was rigid, his body practically vibrating with tension. Smoothing my hands over his abs, I tried to soothe him, but he didn’t relax. “It’s important that we’re all comfortable, Ry. If you’re worried about them touching you—”
“No!” he barked before groaning. “Yes…. No. Fuck.”
He’s not worried, but he is? He was so damn worked up, but he had been ever since my close encounter of the shark kind. Except maybe it wasn’t the shark that’d been the problem, but Ezra’s suggestion that I enrol in Tristan’s course. Things had changed pretty quickly after that. Was that what the issue was? Was he jealous?
But that didn’t make sense. If he was jealous, he wouldn’t be focussing on the guys being together. He’d have more of a problem with them touching me, not them touching him.
Oh. Oh. Was he saying what I thought he was? “This conversation goes no further than these walls. It’s between you and me, and it’ll stay that way. I’ll never share what you say with anyone, okay?”
His grunt of acknowledgment sent a shiver through me, and I tightened my grip around his waist.
“Do you want one of them to touch you?”
He shook his head, his forehead rocking against the glass it was pressed against. But his movements were too quick and too jerky. It was as if Ry was overcompensating. He was intense, yes, but he was normally a lot more laid back than this.
“Okay. But I want you to know that it’d be okay if you did.”
“I don’t, okay?” he roared, pulling out of my grip and pacing to the other side of the couch, his hands back in his hair and his face turning red. Woah, as much as I wanted to slap his outburst back into submission, Ry was really bloody worked up about this. He was stressed the fuck out. If he was reacting like this, there was no way he and Tristan would have talked about it.
“Ry, that’s okay too. Whatever your sexuality is, it’s you. I love you for exactly who you are. I just wanted to reassure you that regardless of whether you wanted anything with anyone else, it wouldn’t change my opinion of you. You’re one of the most incredible people I know.”
