Chapter 22 #2
“I like you. But I already knew I would. I’ve heard so much about you, Amelia.” Oliver groans audibly, dragging a hand down his face, which only makes Morgan laugh harder. “Come on, let’s sit down.”
She walks toward the couch, and I glance at Misha, who nods in her direction to make me follow. When I turn, he mutters under his breath to Oliver, “Not so excited for them to meet anymore, are you?”
As I sink into the plush cushions of the couch, a slight grimace escapes me before I can mask it.
Morgan catches it, her brows knitting together in concern. “You okay?”
“Sure, I’m just sore and… crampy,” I admit, immediately regretting my bluntness. I know women talk about their periods with each other, but probably not within minutes of meeting.
Morgan doesn’t seem phased. “Oh, have you already taken some Midol?”
I shake my head, a bit embarrassed. “I’m not big on drugs, so I mostly just sit in my agony.”
“That sounds tough,” she sympathizes. “Midol is usually very well tolerated, though. Do you have any allergies besides peanuts?”
Her question catches me off guard.
How does she know about my peanut allergy?
I dart a glance at the guys, catching them in the act of quickly diverting their eyes.
Great, now everyone probably knows I’m menstruating.
Internally groaning, I wish I knew how to make small talk that didn’t broadcast my personal medical history. “No, no other allergies. Just the choking-on-peanuts thing.”
She grins and reaches out to squeeze my knee before she gets up. “Be right back.”
As Morgan leaves, Oliver sits on the other side of the couch, his expression sheepish. He gives me a lopsided, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, she’s…” he starts, his voice trailing off as he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“… amazing. I like her,” I reassure him and notice the tension visibly drain from his shoulders.
He exhales a sigh of relief. “I was worried she might come off a little too strong. She’s… extroverted, not like us,” he admits, glancing down at his hands, then back up at me with a tentative smile.
A comforting warmth spreads through my chest, buoyed by his inclusion of me in his us. “She seems lovely,” I affirm just as a glass of water appears suddenly before me, hovering in the air.
Startled, I turn to find Grey standing just behind the couch, a gentle concern etched across his features. He hands me the glass. “Thank you?” I query, confused.
“For the Midol,” he clarifies, then pivots back toward the kitchen. I watch him retrieve the bowl of popcorn and gather a selection of snacks before returning to place them carefully on the coffee table in front of us. “Need anything else, Princess? Strawberry ice cream?”
I shake my head, “Maybe later, thank you.”
I’m too nervous to eat right now. Morgan, being in their home, having Grey so close while feeling shitty.
It’s a little much.
Grey nods and settles beside me, his body sinking into the cushions.
Morgan bounds back into the room carrying a heating pad. She places it in my lap, plugs it into one of the outlets on the coffee table, and hands me a pill. “Here.”
I blink, surprised by her thoughtfulness. “Oh, that wasn’t necessary, but thank you,” I murmur, accepting the Midol and chasing it down with the water.
“A heating pad is the only thing that really helps me, and it’s super cozy,” Morgan explains as she plops down beside Oliver. “Because these guys don’t even have blankets.”
“I have some. Should I get you one?” I ask, ready to stand.
She laughs, waving me off. “Next time.”
“So, what brings you to Seattle?” I venture, taking advantage of the relaxed atmosphere to learn more about her.
Morgan smiles wryly, a hint of melancholy flickering in her eyes before she responds.
“I work as a live-in nurse, or at least I did until recently. My last client passed away, unfortunately. It was quite sudden, and his family… well, they didn’t take long to rush me out of the house once everything was settled.
” Her expression darkens for a moment. “I was a bit stranded after that,” she continues, shrugging as if to minimize the disruption it caused in her life.
“Luckily, Oliver and the guys let me crash in their guest room.”
“That sounds really tough,” I sympathize. “It must have been hard to adjust so quickly.”
Morgan gives a small nod, her smile returning. “It was, but I’m taking a few weeks to myself now to think about what I want to do next. Maybe where to go next. But I’m enjoying being here. Having my little brother back for a while. It’s nice to have him close, even if it’s just temporary.”
She turns to grin at Oliver, who smiles back. “It is.”
They’re cute, and even I can see how strong their bond is. It makes me miss August even more. “It sounds like you’re making the most of the situation.”
Morgan chuckles, leaning back against the sofa. “I try,” she says. “It’s all you can do, right? Roll with the punches and see where you end up.”
As we all make ourselves comfortable, Grey starts to fuss with the remote. “Okay, folks, we’re watching Forbidden Planet.”
Morgan groans. “I forgot you guys have no taste in movies.”
Grey shoots her one of his scowls, and I have to suppress a laugh.
Misha returns from another room, a small bottle in hand. He plops down on my other side and grabs my ankles, pulling them onto the couch, which turns me sideways. I don’t even complain—being casually manhandled by these guys is something I’ve grown to enjoy far too much.
Grey turns slightly behind me, allowing me to lean back against him. His familiar scent fills my nostrils, soothing me further.
“Got something that might help,” Misha murmurs, shaking the bottle. He unscrews the cap, and a sharp, medicinal scent fills the air, making my nose wrinkle at its intensity.
I want Grey’s buttered rum scent back.
“Hope that works better than it smells,” Morgan quips, scrunching her nose.
Unfazed, Misha lifts one of my feet onto his lap, carefully rolling up my sweatpants to my knee.
Thank God I shaved my legs this morning.
As the movie starts, the room darkens, the only light now emanating from the projector and the screen. Morgan munches loudly on popcorn, prompting Grey to turn up the volume.
Misha’s hands are warm, almost hot against my skin, and the way his fingers press into the tight muscles of my calves sends a complex cascade of sensations through me—pain mingling with relief.
God, that feels so good.
Each stroke of his hand seems to draw the ache out of my limbs, and I close my eyes, letting out a slow breath. I can’t help but think about what else those hands could do.
Dammit, I’m way too horny since I started hanging out with them.
Feeling a jolt of electricity run through me, I breathe deeply, trying to sink into the comfort of the couch, into the sensation of being cared for, which I never really had.
“Is it hurting good?” Grey’s low, husky voice whispers against the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine.
When he drapes his arm around my waist, his hand coming to rest on my thigh, the touch is possessive and protective. He begins to massage gently, his fingers skillful and reassuring.
I nod, unable to speak, my voice caught in my throat, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of Grey’s touch on my thigh and Misha’s persistent, soothing manipulations on my calves. So much so that the cramps get overridden by fanny flutters.
Holy.
Misha’s eyes, dark and intense in the dim light, occasionally meet mine when I open them for a moment, and there’s a lingering intent in his touch that makes my heart race a little faster.
The room around us fades to a blur of sounds and dim lights, the movie playing to an audience half-attentive at best.
Grey’s fingers dig a little deeper, coaxing tension from my muscles, and the blend of firmness and gentleness in his touch is exquisitely balanced.
It’s strange and wonderful, this feeling of being cocooned between them, cared for in a way that’s both comforting and exhilarating.
Misha finishes his massage, carefully pulling my sweatpants back into place, but as I start to shift, intending to pull away, he grips my feet, keeping them in his lap. His touch is gentle, reassuring, and I relax even deeper into Grey’s side as the old sci-fi movie flickers on the screen.
“Better?” Grey’s breath tickles my ear, his whisper blending with the hushed sounds of the movie.
“Much better,” I whisper back, just above the hum of the projector, as my hand finds his on my thigh, and our fingers link together.
The peace of the moment wraps around me, a soft, comforting blanket that soothes deeper than the ointment on my skin.