Chapter 10
HAZE
THREE’S COMPANY, FOUR’S A CLIMAX
The water is way too calm for how loud the elephant in the room is.
Shallow. Clear. Controlled. Nothing like the mess quietly unravelling inside our minds, caused by the beautiful woman sleeping upstairs in what was supposed to be our private island upgrade.
I mean, what are the chances that things have unfolded like this?
Well, I'm not mad about it. Quite the opposite, actually.
I’ve never seen West this wound up before.
Not about anything. He’s always been solid and steady.
The kind of man who carries the weight of fucking everyone without a single complaint about it.
Sure, he can be broody, but never to a point he’d rather read a romance novel of all fucking things than watch Beau and I swim shirtless in a luxurious pool before breakfast. The man’s at war, and the look on Beau’s face tells me that he and I are on the same page.
West has it bad for Jovi.
He knows better than to deny it because we know him better than anyone.
She’s gotten under his skin and he’s not sure what the hell to do about it.
He’s got to get in line because at some point, we’ve all been there.
Jovi was the girl back in high school. She was the star in every guy’s fantasy, though she’d never know it.
She was always way too invested in her classes than to humor any of us assholes drooling over her from the sidelines or to notice us basically throwing ourselves at her feet.
She was completely oblivious to how fucking beautiful she was, which only made us want her more.
When it became clear to everyone with a dick that she wasn’t interested, we backed off.
I think Beau had it the worst, though.
Both he and Jovi were nerds, for lack of a better word, which meant they shared the same classes and were in study groups together.
Yet, he was always way too chicken shit to talk to her.
Not that it would have mattered, because Jovi would have rejected his ass faster than an arrow to the chest. The Jovi we witnessed yesterday, on the other hand, is very much interested.
I know what I saw in her eyes on stage with West the other night.
It was the same look she had when she jumped into Beau’s arms and practically undressed me with her eyes.
The shy teenager we once knew and obsessed over is long gone.
In her place is a gorgeous fucking woman who knows exactly who she is and isn’t afraid to show it.
The woman’s got fire.
I like it. Beau likes it… West likes it, even if he won’t admit it.
We may as well be walking around on eggshells where West is concerned at the moment because there is one giant, self-sabotaging, fucking honor complex standing in the way of what he truly wants.
We’re not idiots. He knows we see it. There’s something between him and Jovi.
It’s as if his jaw is wired tight. He’s been this way since she showed up yesterday.
Scratch that. Since the accidental handjob debacle the other night.
Which, by the way, I’m both pissed and grateful I wasn’t there to witness, because…
damn. Watching Jovi on her knees for our guy would be a fucking dream.
Only, that dream would have been short-lived because if the night played out the way West said it did, I don’t think I would have put up with any more of Theo’s bullshit.
I stay out of their family shit out of respect for West and to keep the peace, but learning that Theo was cheating on Jovi like that…
I would have lost it. Or was he cheating on Tamika with Jovi?
Those details are unclear. Either way, none of it is acceptable.
Tamika and Jovi are good people, and they both deserve better.
There’s a good man buried in Theo somewhere.
A version of him almost no one ever gets to see.
Beau and I have seen it. But it’s hidden beneath a truck-sized chip on his shoulder and it’ll stay there until he decides to deal with his shit.
In some ways, I relate to him. But only he can fix himself.
Not his father and certainly not the trail of women he’s leaving behind.
He’ll work it out. He’s just got to face himself first. Until that happens, our relationship with his father is not up for discussion.
He’s not ready for that fucking bombshell.
In the meantime, my priority is West’s happiness.
He comes before anyone else, and I’ll be fucked if I let him continuously deny himself the life he deserves.
Sure, it’s not a perfect scenario where Theo is concerned, but like he really gives a fuck.
His pride is wounded. That’s all there is to it.
If this vacation pans out the way that I think it will, Theo will have no fucking choice but to get over it.
West wants Jovi. And if what I saw on stage has any fucking merit, Jovi wants him too.
I sure as shit won’t stand in their way and neither will Beau.
That’s just not how we are. Our love isn’t defined by stupid fucking titles or reduced to tiny little boxes.
It’s raw. Free. Ours. And as long as we have each other, there isn’t a damn thing we can’t face together.
They’re mine. Always. And if Jovi wants in, she can fit in however and wherever the hell she pleases.
I swim up to the edge of the pool, sprawling my arms out along the tiled ledge as I stare out at the endless view of water. There isn’t a single person in sight as I take in the different shades of blue, which is just my style. Private with no assholes around to bother me.
Beau glides up behind me, his chest pressing into my back, warm and so uniquely him I almost purr.
His hands slide slowly down my arms as he starts to trail barely there kisses along my shoulder.
My cock begins to harden when he leans in closer, brushing his mouth against the shell of my ear, sending a wave of goosebumps across my cool, wet skin.
“You look so fucking hot like this,” he murmurs. “Soaking wet.” I tilt my head back slightly, letting Beau’s heat settle over me, and a slow smirk pulls at my mouth when I feel his hard length brush against my ass through my shorts.
“Careful,” I warn, not bothering to lower my voice because I don't care if Jovi or anyone else hears us. His hands tighten briefly on my arms as he moves his hips, like he doesn't care if anyone hears us either.
“Please,” he scoffs softly. “You know there isn’t a damn thing you could do to me that I wouldn’t want. Wouldn't love.” I hum in fake consideration.
“You sure about that, pretty boy?”
He chuckles, low and arrogant. He’s testing me. He’s always testing me. I glance over my shoulder at him, his eyes glittering with heat and it’s all I can do not to fuck him right here in this damn pool.
“I’m sure about you,” he replies lazily, and that’s all it takes.
I twist suddenly in his arms, water splashing as I spin around and shove him backwards.
He barely has time to react before his back hits the edge of the pool, the tiled edge digging into him, but I don't give a fuck.
My hand comes up fast, gripping tightly to his throat, enough to show him just what his words do to me.
His breath hitches and his bright, bi-colored eyes darken instantly when he realizes our dicks are touching and fuck… he feels so good.
“How sure?” I murmur, thrusting my hips against him again, pinning his left arm along the edge of the pool with my free hand, the other still closed around his throat.
I can feel how fast his heart is racing against my skin, our chests bumping together and I swallow hard from the sheer need for him.
My own heart pumps faster as I lean in, brushing my lips over his and it only causes a whimper to escape from somewhere deep within his throat.
“Haze…” he says huskily, his voice thick with desperation, his chest rising and falling faster now as I drag my tongue along the edge of his full, fuckable lips.
He parts them for me without an ounce of hesitation, our cocks jumping, brushing together through the fabric of our shorts.
An annoying barrier that’s in the way of what we both want.
I want to feel him against me. All of him.
I crave him in ways only he knows how to give and I've never been a patient man.
His tongue softly brushes against mine as we start to kiss.
Slow at first. But the second his hand squeezes mine, our kiss becomes frantic.
The water ripples around us and I remove my hand from around his throat, shifting lower to the side of his body to grip his hip, holding him in place as I thrust against his cock.
He moans into my mouth like the needy fucking brat he is and once I release his pinned arm, he’s all over me.
Within seconds, he wraps his legs around me, grinding his erection against mine as we claim each other’s mouths.
I reach up and pull at the knot on top of his head, my fingers tangling in the tied, wet strands before I tug and tug, until finally, his hair falls free. It tumbles down, clinging to his tattooed neck and shoulders and fuck. He’s so sexy.
“You're like a fucking god, you know that?” I say almost panting, because he really is. Every inch of him is fucking perfect, perfect for me. Every sculpted, glistening muscle has him looking like a sun-soaked Adonis, beautifully golden and I'll never get enough of him.
“Mine,” he gasps, his breathing just as rough as my own, his hands on my body everywhere, like he needs to feel as much of me as possible.