Chapter 3
T urns out I forgot one little detail about the Tuckers' old pickup truck. Namely, that it has no backseat, and the bench seat is narrower than it looks. Even if there was any chance that Cayden would let me ride in the bed the way I used to, it's too stormy out.
So here I am, squished in the middle between these two lumbering hulks of men.
To avoid the gear shift, I have to keep my legs spread, so the outer edges of my thighs are plastered to Cayden's and Jax's.
The corded muscles of their legs press to mine, and heat pours into me even through cotton and denim.
Their broad shoulders crowd me, and their rich, masculine scents surround me, and suddenly my recent dry spell is becoming a deluge as my panties go damp with wanting, my breasts tingly and my skin too tight.
Cayden spins the steering wheel, taking us around one of the mountain road's hairpin turns.
His body leans into mine, and the momentum of the truck throws me up against Jax.
Jax puts a hand on my thigh to steady me, but it doesn't help.
I'm still a ragdoll, tossed about by the motion of the cab.
Am I just imagining things, or does his hand linger a little too long, his fingers edging toward the seam of my jeans?
My clit twitches, and I suck in a breath at the surge of heat in my blood.
But then his hand is gone. I chance a glance up at him to find him staring pointedly ahead, hard eyes blazing. His dark, stubbled jaw clenches, and there's that sense of danger again, but I'm not afraid.
I'm turned on.
Jeez. As soon as I can get myself behind a locked door, I'm going to have to take matters into my own hands.
I spare a moment to regret that I didn't have time—or the nerve—to grab my vibrator when I tossed a toothbrush and a spare set of clothes into a bag to take with me.
Cayden had been looming, unwilling to let me out of his sight.
What would he have done if I had gone ahead and slipped that monster rabbit vibe out of the nightstand of my childhood bedroom? I've always been a bit of a size queen. I like to feel nice and full when I'm getting fucked—even if I'm the one fucking myself.
Would he have seen that big fake cock and offered me another way to scratch my itch?
My gaze darts to the fly of his jeans, and I lick my lips. He certainly looks like he could be packing some heat in there.
God, what am I thinking? This is Cayden, my childhood friend.
My teenage crush. Sure, we have a spark, but this is madness.
He's not the kind of guy who would ever go for me—and even if he did, I'm not in a position to be getting into a relationship.
Hell, I don't even plan to stay here beyond the couple of months I have left of my sabbatical.
And if there's one thing I know, it's that there's no way Cayden Tucker is leaving this mountain. Not ever again. Not for anything.
Definitely not for me.
It's a short ride from my grandmother's house to the Tucker place, but between my raging hormones and the two guys pressed against my sides, it feels like it takes forever.
When Cayden finally turns into the driveway, I say a silent prayer of thanks.
He parks beside a van that looks like it's seen better days and turns off the engine.
Jax opens his door immediately and all but leaps out of the car, like he can't get away from me fast enough. I try not to be hurt by that, even if it's basically par for the course.
It helps that Cayden takes the time to hold out his hand to help me out of the cab. The instant I set my feet down on solid earth, I feel better, my head clearer for the blast of fresh, cold air. I take my hand back and hitch my bag on my shoulder, then steel myself as I follow these men inside.
As promised, the house is warm—cheery, even. A fire blazes in the main room, and there are candles burning all around. Cayden ushers me in with a hand between my shoulder blades, while Jax brings up the rear, closing the door against the wind and chill outside.
I glance around. I haven't been here in years. Superficially, it's unchanged. There's still the big old comfy sofa and the leather chairs. The built-in bookcases and the solid brick of the hearth.
But some things are different. Most of the feminine touches are gone, and I swallow hard.
Cayden lost his mom and dad a few years after I'd left the mountain.
I heard about it too late to go to the funeral.
I sent a card and even tried to call, but he'd already been gone.
To hear my grandmother tell of it, he'd barely waited for them to be put in the ground before signing up for the army and shipping off.
He couldn't bear to be here without them.
But he's back now. And he's not alone.
I'm reminded of that fact by the gruff sounds of voices coming from the kitchen. I knew there were other men living here, but the reality still makes the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
"Come on," Cayden says, leaning in close, his breath warm against my ear. "Let me introduce you to the guys."