Chapter 8
EIGHT
Prying one eye open, I stare at my blank white ceiling and sniff the air—food. I smell food.
Yummy, mouthwatering food.
Stretching both arms down at my sides to get a good stretch, I point my toes and yawn quietly, then blink a handful of times before I loll my head in Sunshine’s direction. Out of nowhere, every moment from yesterday comes flooding back—Lily, Todd, the restaurant, riding home with Till, Sunshine, and my breakdown. The man in question is still beside me, naked, his morning wood just hanging out in all its thick glory. Early daylight filters in through the windows, highlighting his still form—one leg bent up, an arm relaxed over his head on the pillow, half a black sheet draped across a thigh. He looks peaceful despite the erection.
Like a creeper, I continue to peruse. It’s not often, if ever, am I awake before he is—that I get to appreciate such a fine specimen. Dark hair dusts his tattooed legs. Those gutters at his hips might as well be a welcoming wagon to any woman. They’re too damn sexy. Right down to the neatly trimmed patch of dark gray hair that starts at his cock and trails up, up, up, between his abs, which are more prominent when he lays down, all the way to his pecs, where it spreads out. Not a lot. Just enough to run your fingers through.
I can’t believe I let this man undress me last night.
I peer down at myself.
Yep. Still naked.
We slept together like we have so many nights before, only there was nothing between us.
Does this change things? I don’t know.
I’ve never known where things sit with us, apart from the obvious… We’re family, and this home is as much mine as it is his.
A line has officially been crossed, and as much as I should be freaking out on the inside, I’m not.
I’m oddly calm.
Much like I am whenever he’s around.
I sniff the air again as the fragrance of whatever is cooking in the kitchen thickens.
“You done lookin’?” A small, knowing grin ticks up the side of Sunshine’s lips as he pops a lid open.
Rolling my eyes, I snicker, not the least bit embarrassed, and shove him in the ribs. “Shut up.”
He rolls his head to the side. “Look all you want, Sweets. You know I don’t mind.”
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. He doesn’t mind. Whatever.
I change the subject when I ask, “Colton, why does it smell like breakfast, but you’re in here?”
With his head on his pillow and sexy bedroom grays in all their soft glory, Sunshine suppresses an awkward, this-might-not-go-well smile and wrinkles his nose. “Sweets.”
“Please don’t tell me it’s who I think it is,” I groan, hoping I’m wrong.
“Then you might not wanna ask.”
That’s what I thought.
Flipping face down on the bed, I smash my forehead into the mattress. “Why.” Smash. “Is.” Smash. “Dark.” Smash. “Here?” I grunt.
Chuckling deeply at my dramatics, Sunshine quickly straddles my bare legs from behind and covers my entire body with his. That morning wood slides between my thighs and nestles right there, you know, against my lips, giving them an unexpected morning kiss as he delivers a similar sentiment across my shoulders. “He’s” Kiss. “Here.” Kiss. “To.” Kiss. “Make.” Kiss. “Things.” Kiss. “Right.”
“Colton,” I gasp.
“Let me take your mind off whatever he’s doin’ ‘til he’s done,” the deliciously naughty man offers, and with a single suave maneuver, his cock is there, breaching my folds and grazing my entrance.
The breath against my neck grows heavy as the heart pounding through my back quickens, tangoing with mine. “Sweets.”
“Wh—what are you doing?” I croak.
“Tell me to stop,” he begs through gritted teeth.
“Colton.”
“Tell. Me. To. Stop.”
“But what if I don’t want to?”
“Kali. Please. I’ve already taken this too fuckin’ far. ”
“You can move if you want to move. Nothing’s stopping you.”
“Sweets. I… Fuck…” He drops his forehead between my shoulders and takes a heavy breath. “I’m?—”
A fist pounds on the bedroom door, rocking it on its hinges. “Food’s ready whenever you assholes are done playin’ hide the sausage and ready to… ya know, talk and shit.”
Shoving my face into the mattress, I grunt into the cotton. “What the fuck is wrong with him?”
Sunshine drops a sweet kiss on my shoulder and sits back on my legs. His still-hard dick brushes the underside of my butt cheeks as he proceeds to use them as bongos. Apparently, we’re starting a band as he hums a tune to some rock song.
“Colton!” I giggle, trying to twist my ass away from his playful slaps.
The bastard doesn’t relent when he squeezes his legs around mine and switches to a rendition of “Witchy Woman,” which isn’t half bad with his sensual voice laced with humor.
“Colton.” My tone grows more serious as I grip the top of the mattress and try to pull myself away but fail miserably when the man in question gets to the chorus, and my bottom starts to warm in a different way, radiating into my core. If I wasn’t already semi-turned on before, I’m damn well panting now. Each slap turns up my arousal a notch at a time, and when he gets to the beat toward the end, when the words drop out, and the percussion picks up, I gasp out in pleasure, my pussy clenching on the brink of an orgasm .
“Colton,” I beg, voice wrecked as I grip the bed sheet in my fists. “Colton.”
Chuckling at his showmanship, as if I’m not a needy live wire, ready to detonate at any moment, the oblivious man covers my back again and playfully pecks my shoulder. His cock slides in where it was before, but this time, there’s lubricant to guide the way. When the firm heat of his pecs connects with my back, Sunshine’s arousal meets with mine, and my center welcomes him home in one glorious slide.
To. The. Hilt.
I gasp at the intrusion. Every muscle locks down. Neither of us moves an inch as our world as we know it comes to a screeching halt. I don’t breathe. He doesn’t breathe. I can feel his thickness inside me, filling me in more ways than one, ways I don’t wish to decipher right now.
It pulses there.
Blood rushes through my ears as my heart punches my sternum.
One beat passes, then the next, and the next. Neither of us speaks. Neither of us moves.
My eyes widen when his cock flexes and breaks the spell.
“Fuck!” Sunshine scrambles off me as if I’m diseased, taking his attached appendage with him. He tumbles to the floor in a mess of limbs, and the bedside lamp rattles as he rights himself before looking at me with what could only be described as shame. Quickly looking away, he doesn’t say a thing when he races into the bathroom and slams the door shut .
Flipping onto my back, I drag a hand down my face and kick the bed in frustration like a kid having a temper tantrum. That fucking happened. It did. He just slipped in. Spanked my ass to a song I love, and… there it went, inside. Does that mean we had sex? No. Right? Shit. I don’t even know.
Shaking my head, I climb out of bed. Well, I sit on the edge and shake my head a dozen more times before I blow out a breath and slap my knees to prepare for the talk we agreed to have today. I suppose we should also discuss what happened. We’ve toed a flirty line for years but never crossed it. In the last twenty-four hours, many lines have been crossed—more than I know what to do with.
When Sunshine finally exits the bathroom, he’s freshly showered, dripping water down his hair-matted chest, a towel tucked around his waist. I wait for him to do or say something, but nothing comes. Not when he kneels by my dresser and pulls out a fresh pair of boxers, a t-shirt, and jeans. Not when he bends over, giving me a spectacular view of his ass as he slides on his bottoms. It isn’t until he’s fully clothed and I’m not that he turns around to face me. Once again, there’s a grimace cloaking his face, and I don’t like it one bit.
“I’m sorry,” he says, like that solves everything.
It doesn’t.
I open my mouth to speak, but he continues, “Sweets, let’s talk in the living room. Come join us whenever you’re ready. Yeah?”
Not knowing how to respond, I nod and wrap my arms around my middle to shield myself from this weirdness that floats between us .
Satisfied with my reply, or lack thereof, Sunshine escapes out the bedroom door. The man from the night before, the considerate one who undressed me, wiped away my tears, and cuddled me in bed, is gone, replaced by whoever this creature is who’s okay with running away after we… did whatever that was.
Heaving a sigh loud enough that I hope they can hear me in the living room, I pad my way into the bathroom. Shoulders deflated, heart bruised, I crank the shower to metaphorical Hell hot and let the water wash over me. I wash and overthink. Overthink and wash. I come up with every reason under the moon and stars why Sunshine would act this way, but I come up blank. The longer I try, the more my brain hurts until a headache pounds in my temples.
“Just go talk to them,” I remind myself as I wrap a fluffy towel around my chest and exit the bathroom. On autopilot, I dress in leggings and an orange, off-the-shoulder tank sans bra. I check my phone on the nightstand to find a slew of messages from Todd and a few from Till.
Till: You can thank me later.
Fat chance.
Till: Don’t forget to listen to what he has to say.
Uh-huh. Sure.
I don’t bother responding to the nuisance that is my best friend and move to Todd’s texts.
Todd: I don’t know what got into me at the restaurant. I’m sorry. Please message me when you get this, so I know you’re okay.
Kali, please let me know you’re safe.
Don’t be cruel, Kali. I know I messed up, but please message me back to let me know you made it home, okay?
If I don’t hear from you by noon today, I’m coming to check on you.
I peek at the clock on the nightstand. It’s a quarter past nine.
Knowing that I might not get a chance if I don’t do it now, I text Todd back, even if I don’t know where we stand after everything that happened last night and this morning. We need to talk. That seems to be the trend of the day.
Me: Hey, sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner. I crashed when I got home, but I’m safe now. I’ll check back in with you a bit later today. I’ve got some things I need to handle before I do. I hope you’re doing well.
With that out of the way, I plug my phone back into its charger and stand to face the inevitable. There are two men in my living room. Two men I haven’t said more than a few sentences to in months. This is not how I planned to spend my Saturday.
For an extra layer of cosmic support, I make a pit stop in the bathroom to brush my hair and slide on a black cage necklace from one of the many jewelry hooks on the wall. From the selenite bowl on my bathroom counter, I close my eyes and let the universe choose the right crystal for me.
I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth as warmth encompasses my palm, and I wrap two fingers around the tumbled stone it has chosen.
I set it on the counter and open my eyes.
A beautiful aquamarine crystal glimmers at me.
Pressing my lips together, I quietly chuckle. Of all the options in my bowl, of course, the universe would gift me with a throat chakra crystal. A stone of courage, calm, and emotional balance. It promotes strong communication and helps with closure.
I snort.
Communication and closure.
That sounds about right.
Sliding the black wooden bead up my necklace, I drop the crystal into its woven cage and return it to its place.
It’s time.
Hi-ho, hi-ho, out of the frying pan and into the fire, we go.
Wish me luck.