Chapter 11
Wilkin
I don't remember when we decided to come inside, and I don't know why all three of us settled so close together on the couch, but here we are, huddled with Reeve in the middle and me and Jett on either side, playing truth or dare.
Yeah, no recollection how on earth he convinced us to play that either.
Well, maybe a tiny part of me is secretly wishing someone brings up a dare that ends up in Reeve losing an item or five of clothing.
Jett may think I'm boring and have no life outside of work—okay, he might be right on that one—but I'm a red-blooded man, and I have needs.
Needs that haven't been fulfilled in a looong time.
"Your turn," Jett says, looking at Reeve after telling us about the one and only time he stole a candy bar from a grocery store. "Truth or dare."
"Truth," he says, and I let out a gruff sigh. We've all been choosing truth, and unless we ask for visual proof of where his underwear was made, truth ain't gonna lead to nakedness.
"Hmm." Jett taps his chin.
I tuck my legs under me, trying to think of some more questions for when it's my turn again.
In addition to Jett's once-only foray into shoplifting, so far we've covered Reeve's unsuccessful attempts at woodworking, how Jett's borderline obsessive love of Sweet’N Low ensures he always carries some with him, and my latest guilty binge watch, Sullivan's Crossing. Hardly riveting stuff.
"How big is your dick?"
My mouth flies open at Jett's outrageous question, but Reeve? He smiles at Jett in a way that makes me think he was waiting for a moment like this to present itself.
"Nine inches," he replies casually, sounding like he's being factual rather than boastful.
As if pulled by invisible magnets, both Jett and I lower our gazes to his jeans-clad crotch. There's definitely a bulge there, so nine inches isn't out of the question.
"My turn," Reeve says, and I snap out of it and try to look at him like I wasn't just shamelessly checking him out. "Wilkin, truth or dare."
I don't want to be the first one to say dare, but I'm starting to think that if I don't, no one will. Both Reeve and Jett are a thousand times more outgoing than I am, so they should be the ones taking the lead here. But I guess it's been left to me to up the ante.
"Dare."
"Ooh." Reeve's dark eyes glimmer with delight. He thinks for a moment then turns to face me with a devious smile. "I've got something."
"I'm up for anything, as long as it's not illegal or dangerous."
"It's neither of those things," he assures me. Then he takes my hand and places it on his massive thigh. He does the same to Jett over on his left. Pressure starts building in my chest, my body sensing something is about to happen.
Reeve looks between us, then says, "I want to see you guys kiss."
There are a million reasons why that won't be happening…I just can't seem to find the words to enunciate any of them right now.
But Jett will jump in and take over, I'm sure.
I look past Reeve to check he hasn't fallen asleep.
Or died of shock.
But nope. His eyes are open. He's alive and breathing. So why the hell isn't his mouth moving?
And why is it that when he does finally speak, it's to say, "Okay. But only on one condition."
"Name it," Reeve says.
"I'll kiss Wilkin, but only if I get to kiss you next."
"I'll do you one better." Reeve rests his hands over ours, pressing them into his strong quads. "Instead of you two kissing, then you and me kissing, then me kissing Wilkin so he doesn't feel left out, there is another way we can approach this."
"How?" I ask, too revved up to care the word came out as barely more than a croak.
Reeve's smile lights up his whole face. "How about the three of us kiss at the same time?"