15. Skylar
Chapter 15
Skylar
T he last of the cardboard boxes seals with a satisfying press, the tape gun whisking across its seams. I survey the now-bare carriage house, stripped of my existence within its walls. It's a strange feeling, like uprooting a tree that's spent years entwining its roots into the soil. But it's time for new ground.
At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. Maybe if I repeat it enough times, it will feel true.
"Need a hand with that?" Cohen's voice ripples through the space, his easygoing presence a comfort I hadn’t expected.
"Thanks, but I've got it," I reply, hoisting the box under my arm. I follow him outside where Theo is methodically organizing the SUV's trunk, his green eyes focused, yet always holding that spark of mischief.
"Looks like we're playing Tetris with your life here," Theo comments, sliding a box into an impossibly small gap. "You sure you need all this stuff?"
"Each one carries a piece of me," I shoot back, not in the mood for his teasing. It's too close to the bone today, when everything feels fragile and momentous.
Once the car is packed to the brim, the boys climb in, and I'm left to make the short journey on foot. Theo had offered to let me ride shotgun while he made the trek between yards, but I craved a moment of solitude.
I stride across the backyard, the familiar path now a bridge to a future uncertain and thrilling. The weight of change settles on my shoulders, lighter than expected. Even if the idea of confining myself with the men who have me twisted up inside sounds like an absolute nightmare.
Austin’s mansion looms ahead, grand and imposing. I never get tired of looking at it. You’d think it would be garish and over the top given its size, but it’s not. It’s done really tastefully, and if I had the opportunity to design my own dream home, I imagine it would look a lot like this one.
I push through the back door planning to head toward the foyer to wait for Cohen’s SUV to arrive. Of course, life has other plans because he's there. The man is a statue of composure as always. The heat in his eyes could almost be mistaken for that brooding intensity he exudes, but I know better. He slipped and showed me his hand. He wants me as badly as I want him.
"Hey," Austin greets me, his tone neutral, but those dark blonde locks and tailored suit strike an image that's anything but. "Everything go smoothly?"
"Smooth as can be," I answer, trying to ignore the way my skin prickles with awareness at his proximity. "Lead the way, Mr. Rhodes."
He nods, stepping aside to let me pass, and I catch the faintest scent of his cologne—clean, crisp, with a hint of something spicy that makes my heart pick up its pace for reasons I won't admit. Not out loud, anyway.
He places a hand on my lower back—which sends a spark through my nerve endings that I am most definitely going to ignore—and leads me toward the back hallway. After what seems like an eternity, he pulls his hand back and steps in front of me, leading the way.
He doesn't look back to see if I'm following; it's as though he assumes I wouldn't dare stray from the path he's set. I'm led not to the grand staircase that leads to the upstairs bedrooms but toward a door on the main floor. A door I know all too well.
"Your room," he states, gesturing with a hand more accustomed to commanding boardrooms than showing guests their accommodations. It's separate from the rest of the bedrooms, which are on the upper floor, an intentional placement that doesn't escape me. Privacy, or perhaps a buffer zone from the rest of his perfectly ordered world? I can't be sure.
"Thank you," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. My attempt to sound gracious is betrayed by the tightness in my throat. The memories attached to this room—or the wall outside of it—are too fresh, too potent. That evening, still dripping with the water from the pool, when lust and longing nearly tipped the scales—when I almost succumbed to the magnetic pull that Austin exerts.
I pause at the threshold, my gaze fixating on a particular spot on the wall. It would be innocuous to anyone else, just part of the structure holding up the mansion. But to me, it's where he had pressed me close, where his fingers traced secrets onto my skin, igniting a flame that still burns beneath my skin. His touch lingered long after our bodies parted, an imprint that time and Theo haven't erased.
A shiver courses through me, involuntary and revealing. My breath hitches as I recall the feel of his fingers slipping between my thighs, the way he tasted my arousal with a satisfaction that bordered on smug. He was right about this dangerous game we're playing, teetering on the edge of control and chaos.
"Skylar?" The sound of his voice pulls me back to the present, and I force a smile, willing my body to calm its riotous response.
"Sorry, just...thinking about where to put everything." It's a flimsy excuse, but it's all I have.
The air shifts as he steps out of the room, his impatience palpable like a tangible force. But then he halts, his eyes following my line of sight to the wall—a silent witness to our near surrender. A moment hangs between us, heavy with unspoken questions. Is he thinking about the way his hands mapped my body? The stifled moans against unspoken pleas for more?
He clears his throat, a slight shake of his head disrupting the stillness. It's as if he's mentally closing the door on those fevered moments, putting them back in their secretive box. "Let's focus on getting you settled," he says, the CEO taking the reins once more.
I nod, chastened, and step past the threshold with him trailing behind. The room is spacious, the afternoon light casting a soft glow over the muted colors.
"If there's anything else you need...new sheets, or any other furnishings, just let me know." His words are casual, but I catch the slight emphasis, an undercurrent of something more. Is it an offer of comfort, or another layer of the control he wields so expertly?
"Thanks, Austin. That's very generous," I manage, trying to keep my voice steady despite the tumult of emotions inside me.
"Of course." He nods once, sharply, as if signing off on a business deal rather than discussing the intimate spaces where I'll live my life.
"Is there anything else I can help with?" His tone suggests duty rather than genuine interest, but I find myself strangely grateful for the distance he maintains.
The air between us crackles with an electricity that's hard to ignore, charged with the weight of unspoken words and heavy glances. I can feel the heat emanating from Austin’s body as he stands close, too close, in the doorway of what will be my new room. The space suddenly feels smaller, more intimate.
"Anything else?" His voice is low, each syllable a soft brush against the silence.
"Actually—" The rest of my thought scatters as the front door bangs open, its sound like a gunshot ringing through the mansion's halls.
"We're here!" Theo's voice booms out, rich with unchecked enthusiasm. It's the disruption I didn't know I needed, pulling me back from the edge of something dangerous.
"Right. Let's get this done," I murmur more to myself than to Austin, slipping past him with a swiftness that betrays my eagerness to escape the tension-filled room.
Outside, the sun dips lower, casting elongated shadows across the lawn. My feet find their rhythm on the familiar path, but my heart still hammers from the almost-moment left hanging unfinished in the air behind me.
"Skylar, over here!" Theo waves from the trunk of his SUV, his curls catching the fading light. Beside him, Cohen lifts a box, his muscles flexing under the strain, tattoos crawling up his forearms like ivy on old stone.
It’s not helping. No, it’s not helping at all. The fire that Austin stoked is still burning strong. I want all three of them and that’s not fair.
"Hey." I force a smile, reaching for a box labeled “Books”. "Thanks for helping."
"Of course," Cohen replies, his voice a soothing balm to the chaos of my thoughts.
We shuffle back and forth, our arms laden with pieces of my life packed away in cardboard containers. It’s quiet and methodical, thank fuck. I’m not sure I’m able to form coherent thoughts anymore. Being surrounded by them is a lot, too much, maybe. How am I going to survive living with them through the end of the summer?
"Where do you want the rest of these?" Cohen nods toward the pile that's rapidly outgrowing the confines of my new room.
"Umm..." I glance around, seeking a solution.
"Use the garage for now," Austin's voice cuts through the confusion, steady and sure. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes hidden behind the veil of dusk. “Anything you don’t need day-to-day can be stored there.”
"Thanks," I say, though it feels inadequate for the sanctuary he’s offering, even if it's just a corner of his garage.
"Let's move them before it gets too dark," Theo suggests, ever the pragmatist beneath his carefree exterior.
I nod, feeling the strain in my muscles as we shift the less essential items into the cavernous space of the garage. Everything has its place, ordered by Austin's unerring sense of structure, yet he's granted me this small pocket of disorder within his world.
"Looks like that's the last of it," Cohen says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
"Thank you both, really." My gratitude is genuine, a warmth that spreads through the fatigue.
"Anytime, Skylar." Theo grins, but there's an edge of something else in his gaze—a promise or perhaps a warning.
The cardboard flaps give way beneath my fingers as I peel back the seal of yet another box, the scent of dust and old paper mingling in the air. My hands work methodically, unpacking books and trinkets, each item adding to my new space, taking it from a blank slate to something that more closely resembles me.
I try to pretend that Cohen and Theo aren’t lingering, watching, waiting—for what, I don’t know. My skin feels heated and too tight. Their eyes follow my every movement, and I’m nearly ready to combust. It doesn’t help that my dirty, filthy mind has wandered into dangerous territory. I know what both of them look like naked, what they feel like moving inside me, the noises they make when they come.
What if they shared me? What if, instead of this tense, unspoken staring contest, they decided to take what they both clearly want—together?
Heat coils low in my stomach, my mind rocketing at the thought. It’s reckless, ridiculous. And yet, the idea lingers, wrapping around me like a slow, sultry whisper. I shake my head, forcing myself back to reality, but the damage is done.
I can’t unthink it. Can’t unfeel the way my body reacts to the mere possibility.
And worst of all? I don’t know if I want the thought to disappear.
"Need a hand with that?" Theo's voice is smooth, the smile on his face more than obvious in his voice.
"Thanks, but I've got it," I reply without looking up. "Really, you guys should go enjoy your evening. I'll be fine here."
“You’ve got a lot to unpack, Skylar. We don’t mind helping.”
“And I appreciate that, I do. But, it’s been a long couple of days. I’m…I honestly wouldn’t mind the time alone to unpack.”
“Okay.” Cohen's footsteps retreat, his acceptance quiet but clear.
Theo, however, remains—a silent figure lingering on the edge of my periphery. His presence weaves a thread of tension through the calm I am desperately trying to maintain.
"Skylark," he starts, and there's something in the way he says my name, a depth to his voice that resonates with memories long locked away. "I can't tell you how excited I am to have you close."
His words hang in the air, weighted with implications I'm not ready to confront. I stiffen, every muscle coiled tight as I force myself to meet his intense green gaze.
"Being in the same house doesn't change anything, Theo," I say, my tone clipped. The walls around my heart stand firm, impenetrable. "There are still boundaries. This is still casual."
He studies me for a moment, those eyes trying to peel back the layers I've worked so hard to build. But then, with a nod, he concedes, stepping back.
"Of course," he agrees, though the curve of his lips suggests he's not entirely convinced. "Just know that I'm here. Whenever you're ready."
He steps closer, the air between us charged with an undeniable energy. His gaze roams over me like a caress. "Maybe," he murmurs, the corner of his mouth quirking up suggestively. "But I can't wait to be inside you. Do you think you can be quiet for me? We wouldn’t want to wake anyone."
Heat floods my cheeks, and I'm torn between indignation and arousal. It's a game we play—a dance of desire and defiance. "You're incorrigible," I manage, my voice steady despite the quickening of my pulse.
"Only for you," he teases, taking a step back, leaving me with the ghost of his touch and the promise of more.
He turns and follows in Cohen’s footsteps, leaving me alone with the rest of my boxes. Alone—just as I wanted, just as I always am. The silence settles over me, a shroud of solitude that's both comforting and suffocating. I sink to the floor amidst the boxes, surrounded by everything and nothing all at once.
I’m just about finished when the kids come rushing into my room to tell me dinner is ready. I force a smile, pushing aside the hollow ache that’s settled in my chest.
“Thanks, you two, I’m coming,” I tell them, brushing off the dust from my jeans as I stand.
As I follow them down the hall, their laughter echoing around me, I try to shake off the weight of my own thoughts.
By the time I reach the dining room, I’ve tucked the feeling away, locking it up tight. But as I take my seat, Cohen’s eyes meet mine from across the table, unreadable yet intense, and I know—whatever this is, whatever we are—it isn’t over. Not even close.
Living here is not going to go well, I can just feel it.
The hours slip by, filled with the clink of cutlery and the chatter of conversation. For a moment, I allow myself to belong—to be part of this mismatched group—and it feels dangerously close to contentment.
"Sky," Theo nudges me gently, passing the salt. Our fingers brush, sparking a silent conversation that says more than words ever could.
"Thank you," I murmur, keeping my gaze fixed on the crystal shaker, avoiding the knowing smiles that might lurk on the faces of our companions.
When the meal ends and the kids scuttle off for a bath and bed, I linger for a moment, watching the easy camaraderie between the men who have unexpectedly become a part of my life. They're clearing dishes, bantering, sharing a bond I'm only peripherally a part of.
I push back from the table, the scrape of my chair against the floor breaking the comfortable hum of conversation. “I think I’m going to call it a night,” I say, stretching to mask the sudden tightness in my chest.
Theo doesn’t hesitate. “I’ll walk you.”
I open my mouth to protest, but the knowing glint in his eyes tells me it would be pointless. He’s never been one to hide what he wants, and apparently, I’m no exception. I should be mad; I laid clear boundaries, and keeping this quiet was one of them. But I'm not angry. And I don't know why.
As we move down the hall, Theo falls in step beside me, his presence a steady warmth against my side. When we reach my door, he stops me with a gentle hand on my arm. Before I can react, his lips brush over my shoulder, then my neck—soft, lingering, deliberate.
“You’ll get used to having me around again,” he murmurs, his breath sending a shiver down my spine.
I don’t get the chance to respond. The weight of another gaze prickles against my skin, drawing my attention down the hall. Austin stands at the entrance to the hall, his posture rigid, his jaw clenched. But it’s his eyes that hold me in place—dark, intense, burning with something unspoken.
My breath catches.
It’s not anger. It’s something else. Something dangerous.
And it sends a whole different kind of shiver through me.