Chapter 22
" I still don't understand how none of this, like, bothers you."
I'm lying on my back in Cayden's bed, staring up at the ceiling. His head rests pillowed on my thigh. I idly run my fingers through his soft, sandy hair, occasionally dipping to scratch them through his beard. It's calming. Soothing.
But my head is still kind of a mess.
Turning his head to look at me, he shrugs. "Why should it?"
"I don't know. Male pride? Caveman instincts? I've just never heard of this kind of thing working out before."
If anything, society feeds us all the idea that one man and one woman is the only way to go. Obviously, that's not entirely true. I know a decent number of happy gay and lesbian couples, too—but that's the key word. Couples.
Groups? Much less groups of guys, all sharing one girl?
I remain skeptical to say the least.
I can't deny the evidence, though. Cayden literally walked in on me getting fucked by another guy, and he just smiled and waited patiently for us to finish.
Deandre eventually pulled out, then turned around to wave at Cayden, his dick still out, my legs spread and my used pussy on display, and everybody was fine with it .
I got cleaned up and dressed, and we all went back to work without so much as having a conversation about it.
At dinner, Adam kissed me, and Sergio gave me a little backrub while we were watching TV, and now I'm here, in Cayden's room, naked and recovering from another round of fantastic sex, and everything seems…normal. Too normal?
"Look," he says, shifting his head off my lap. He lies on his side, braced on one elbow and regards me. "I know it's unconventional, but we all talked it over. We're fine with it."
"When exactly did this talk happen?"
"Originally? In Afghanistan. I mean, we were just shooting the shit, you know? But then when these guys agreed to move up here and help me get the business going again, we made a pact. We'd never let anything come between us." He chuckles, smiling crookedly. "Well, except maybe literally…"
I swat at him, but I don't really mean it. "Focus."
He strokes a hand up my thigh, gaze dark. "Believe me. I am very, very much focusing."
A shiver hums through me, but I brush the low thrum of arousal aside. "Focus on something other than sex."
He pouts. "Well, that's no fun."
"Try. For me."
His gaze softens. "For you? Anything."
A different kind of heat warms me, less sexual and more emotional. This guy is just so sweet sometimes.
But I have to think this through. We didn't really have much of a chance to talk about stuff last night, other than for him to confirm that Jax hadn't been full of shit. I have questions.
Some of them aren't easy ones, though. "So this has always been your plan, then? Come home and find some girl who's willing to sleep with all of you?"
A tight knot of anxiety forms in my lungs. I can't entirely explain it, except I don't want that to be what this is about.
Cayden reaches out. He takes my hand and stares deep into my eyes. "We were waiting for you . We didn't know it yet, but we were."
He sounds so sincere, is the thing. But there's this unhappy brain cell in the back of my mind that says it could have been anyone. They all seem to like me well enough, but I'm disposable.
For a moment, Richard's frowning face swims before my vision. For him, I really could have been anyone.
And here, I'd imagined he could be the one .
"Okay," I finally say. But it's less because I believe Cayden's promise that I'm special and more because I'm paralyzed by my own conviction that I'm not.
He senses at least a little of my doubt. "I don't expect you to accept this all at once. None of us do. But soon enough, you'll see. You fit here."
I nod again. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss to my lips. That helps—it really does.
It just isn't quite enough.
We settle in for the night soon after. Maybe it's a little weird that I've slept with four of the five men in this house, but I always end up here. Cayden keeps extending the invitation, though, and I keep accepting. He feels safe. Comfortable.
Even his presence can't quiet my mind tonight, though.
Exhausted as I am, physically and emotionally, I can't seem to settle. Long after Cayden has slipped off to sleep, I lie there, my mind going a hundred miles an hour.
Finally, I give up. I manage to sneak out from under Cayden's arm and dress in the dark. Grabbing the book I've been reading, I pad to the door and out into the hall.
It's late, but there are still signs of life in the house. While most of the closed bedroom doors I pass are dark, the muted sounds of some sort of action flick drift through the air. A mindless movie holds a certain appeal, but in the end, I'm craving solitude more.
Funny, how I left my grandmother's house in part because I was afraid to stay there alone. But after a few days of almost constantly being surrounded by people, I'm ready for a little alone time.
Avoiding the big den where the TV lives, I head for the living room.
I pause right at the threshold, though. Turns out, I don't have this space to myself, either.
And its occupant is a decorated ex-military sniper.
At the tiniest, barely audible squeak of a floorboard beneath my feet. Sergio lifts his head. His dark gaze settles on me. Wordlessly, he lifts his brows.
His calm quiet flusters me. I trip over my words. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt."
"You're not."
His voice washes over me, honey warm.
"I just. Couldn't sleep. So." I hold up my book helplessly.
To my surprise, he holds up one of his own.
It's a big, thick one, too—non-fiction from the look of it.
My cozy mystery suddenly feels about as thin as the paper it's printed on.
My reading's been about fun and comfort, lately, though.
I'm just glad I didn't bring down one of my steamy romance novels.
He points to the low fire crackling away in the hearth and the blanket draped over the side of the couch. "Plenty of room, if you want."
It's an awfully tempting invitation. I thought I was craving solitude, but maybe it was just quiet. Sharing silence and a nice warm reading nook doesn't sound half bad. "You don't mind?"
"Not at all." When I waver, he flashes a crooked, self-effacing smile at me. "Promise I won't talk too much."
I chuckle at that. Yeah, too much chatter is definitely not what I'm worried about when it comes to hanging out with Sergio.
"Thanks."
I pick my way over. Hesitating, I glance between the recliner in the corner and the other end of the couch where Sergio is parked. As if he can sense my dilemma, he scoots over a little, leaving a nice open spot. He grabs the blanket off the back of the couch and unfolds it, holding it out.
Well, that's definitely too much to resist. I smile gratefully and settle in opposite him. An entire couch cushion separates us. Somehow, it's both too much space and not enough.
"C'mere." He motions for me to come closer. I look at him, confused, until he reaches into my space and pats my knees, then makes another gesture, beckoning me to swing around.
Oh. I put my back to the arm of the sofa and stretch my legs out in his direction. Firmly, he takes my feet and places them on his lap. He spreads the blanket out over my lower half, and just like that, I'm cocooned in warmth.
"Comfy?"
"Yeah. Perfect."
He smiles, squeezing my ankle, then turns his attention back to his book.
Something antsy and anxious inside me smooths over. I breathe out a deep exhalation, and the tension in my shoulders bleeds away. I open my novel and relax for real for the first time in days—maybe months.
Sergio's been a bit of a mystery since I met him, but as we settle into an easy, companionable silence, it's easy to forget that we're basically strangers.
He rubs my ankles and shins through the blanket, and his thighs are warm beneath my feet.
But other than that casual, intimate contact, we're just two people reading together.
And it's…nice.
For all that I thought Richard could be 'the one', we never had easy, quiet moments like this. He always wanted to be doing something, be it having sex or going out places I could barely afford or watching high definition movies on his state of the art entertainment center.
This is better. Much, much more my speed.
Thankfully, the book I brought is fairly fluffy, because it only gets about half of my attention. Sergio's face in the flickering firelight is even more beautiful than I realized. He keeps his gaze on the slowly turning pages in front of him, leaving me free to study him in more detail.
His dark, silky hair shines in the warm glow. He has those masculine brows and deep eyes, a fine, aquiline nose, and full, sultry lips. In profile the way he is, I can't see the scarring that I know graces half of his cheek on the other side. Without it, he looks younger. More at peace.
The dark scruff of his stubble just makes his deep tan skin look all the more smooth and touchable, and part of me wants to do just that—touch.
But do I really need to? I've been passed around between the men of this house enough in the past few days. I've had so much sex, I'm sore. I never really imagined that a person could have too much of such an incredibly good thing, but I'm appreciating the break, honestly.
Am I leaving him out, though? I said at the beginning of this that I didn't want to cause any conflict among this band of brothers, only—what if I am, and I just don't know it yet?
Finally, I can't hold it in any more. "Aren't you going to try to fuck me or something?"
The only sign that he's so much as heard is a subtle flick upward of his brows. I instantly feel silly. Jeez, what a thing to blurt out there. But that's what I did. And there's no taking it back now.
Carefully, he places a bookmark between the pages of his book, then sets it aside. He turns to me, and the full power of his stare pins me in place.
"Do you want me to fuck you?"
Well, when he puts it like that… I lick my lips.
For a second, I indulge the fantasy. I imagine pulling him on top of me, wrapping ourselves up in these blankets and stripping down.
Exploring every inch of his rich, deep skin with my hands and mouth until he took me slowly, powerfully in front of the crackling fire.
My pussy throbs.
But not one hundred percent in the good way. I swallow hard.
"Like, existentially, or right this second?"
A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his lips. "Whichever."
"In theory, hell yes." And maybe that's too much to admit, but what's the point in pretending?
I've already been invited to a long-term orgy with these people.
There can't be much harm in admitting that I think this last member of the team is incredibly sexy.
"Right this second? Not particularly." I wince. "Sorry."
He shrugs. "Then, no. Right this second, I'm not going to try to fuck you."
"But some other time?" A hint of insecurity makes my voice waver, because I hadn't fully considered that part of the equation, had I?
Jax and Cayden had both assured me that everyone was into it, and Sergio himself has given me enough heated stares to make me assume he'd want to do the deed with me at some point.
But he's kept his distance so far. Maybe that's a sign.
Before I can get myself too worked up with wondering, he smirks, that same heat burning in his gaze. "Hell, yeah, chica."
I inhale, lightness entering my chest, warmth tickling my skin.
"Okay. Cool."
I want to cringe again, because I sound like an idiot, telling this strong, scarred man that it'd be cool if he wanted to fuck me some time.
Good Lord.
He squeezes my ankle reassuringly. "Figured if you wanted me to touch you, you would let me know. Until then, I can be patient."
"Ah."
"But don't you doubt for a second that I want my hands on your body."
Nodding, I clench down inside.
"Glad we had this little talk." He smirks and reopens his book.
I move to do the same. But before I can, the sound of the television in the other room clicks off. I snap my neck around to find Jax of all people coming down the hallway.
And just like that, the easy quiet intimacy of my late night reading with Sergio fades away.
Great. Just great.