Chapter 12
Aimee
I cursed at Rhett and Troy’s coffee machine, which was surely invented just to prank me.
Why was no coffee coming out? With a huff, I paced across the room, picking up a framed picture of Rhett and Troy in turnout gear that was sitting on a nearby shelf.
Then I caught myself mentally stripping them.
It turns out the downside to imagining your friends naked while trying to stop thinking about snakes is that it results in way too many mental images of them naked.
I set out a pad of paper and started listing things I needed to do: retrieve my laptop from the police station, order a new phone, go back to my apartment and get some clothes.
A door opened down the hallway, followed by the soft padding of bare feet on hardwood. I quickly set the photo down, glancing up just as Troy rounded the corner. My brain short-circuited.
Holy. Fucking. Fuck.
He wore nothing but a pair of low-slung gray sweatpants, the waistband clinging precariously to his narrow hips, low enough that I was pretty sure a stiff breeze would be enough to turn this into a strip show.
Morning light caressed the sculpted planes of his chest, highlighting the perfect definition of his pectoral muscles, the ridges of his abs, the tantalizing lines that disappeared beneath cotton.
His dark skin gleamed, still slightly damp from a shower, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from a single droplet of water that traced a lazy path from his collarbone down the center of his chest, over his abs, before disappearing into that tempting trail of hair below his navel.
“Morning.” His voice was morning-rough in a way that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Sleep okay?”
I realized I was staring and quickly turned to look out the window, cheeks burning.
“Uh, yeah. Fine.” In my mind, I could still hear their conversation about threesomes, still hear the way Troy had laughed about something with a trapeze artist, and the soft moan that slipped from Rhett right after it.
The conversation had done nothing for my horny state, but at least it had kept me thoroughly distracted until I basically passed out in a post-orgasmic coma.
I couldn’t really share that bit of information, though.
Troy moved to the coffee maker, his back now to me—a back so broad and muscular it belonged in a magazine.
Those firefighter workouts were clearly effective.
I remembered how his arms had felt around me yesterday, strong and safe as I’d hugged him, thanking him for his help.
The memory of his embrace stirred something in me that wasn’t just fear or gratitude.
“Rhett went to grab donuts.” He pushed a button on the coffee maker and suddenly, there was coffee. “Thanks for getting the coffee started.”
“I couldn’t actually figure out how to work the machine.” I grimaced.
“The key here is this button that says ‘power.’ It wasn’t on.” He pointed to the button.
I rolled my eyes, laughing. “Foiled again by a really obvious button.” My stomach growled, and I rubbed it. “How much of a wait for those donuts?”
“He went to Pink Pony, so it might be a minute.” Troy poured himself a coffee, then filled another mug and handed it to me.
“Why does he always insist on going there?”
He laughed as he offered me creamer, and I took it. He leaned his perfect ass against the counter, mug cradled in his hands. His laugh was warm, genuine. “The man will stand in line for an hour for those maple bacon monstrosities. He’s obsessed.”
“When Jasmine’s is literally two blocks in the other direction,” I said, shaking my head.
“And their donuts are just as good!” We spoke in unison, then both broke into laughter that felt like the first normal thing since yesterday’s nightmare.
“Jinx,” I said, tapping my finger against my mug with a small smile.
Troy’s gaze softened as he looked at me, amusement fading into something more serious. “How are you really doing, Aims? And don’t say ‘fine’ again, because we both know that’s bullshit.”
“Shaken.” I tried for a smile that probably looked more like a grimace. “I keep checking over my shoulder. Jumping at sounds.”
Troy crossed the kitchen in two long strides, setting his mug down before wrapping me in a hug that made me hyperaware of his bare chest against my cheek, the solid warmth of him surrounding me.
My arms hung awkwardly at my sides for a moment before I set my cup down and allowed myself to return the embrace, my hands meeting warm skin and hard muscle.
“I’m trying not to be mad at you.” His voice rumbled against my ear. “For not telling us about the online threats sooner.”
I pulled back just enough to look up at him, suddenly defensive. “I get hate mail all the time, Troy. If I panicked over every angry email—”
“I know, I know.” His hand moved to cup the back of my neck. “I get it. But fuck, Aims. When I think about what could have happened...”
His genuine concern made my throat tight. “I’m okay.” We both knew it wasn’t entirely true. “I’m safe here.”
Troy’s eyes met mine, dark and intense. “You are. And if you’re still feeling jumpy, you can stay as long as you like.”
“I won’t be in the way?”
“You might be the worst cock-block ever, but we deserve that after fucking up so many of your dates.”
I smiled and sipped my coffee. “Not the revenge I’d have chosen, but silver linings and all.”
The hottest thing I can imagine would be you fucking me while I was fucking Aimee.
The memory of those words filtering through the paper-thin bedroom wall sent liquid heat pooling low in my belly.
I’d lain frozen in Troy’s bed, breath caught in my throat, as Rhett had laid out his fantasy in explicit detail.
Their voices had been too low to catch everything, but I’d heard enough. More than enough.
Enough that I’d slipped my hand beneath the waistband of my sleep shorts, finding myself embarrassingly wet at the thought of being sandwiched between these two gorgeous men.
I’d gotten myself off with guilty efficiency, biting my lip to stay silent as I imagined Rhett inside me, Troy’s mouth on my breasts, the three of us tangled together in sweat-slicked pleasure.
And now, with Troy’s bare chest inches from my face, I couldn’t stop wondering what it would be like to trace those muscles with my tongue, to feel those strong hands on my thighs, to be the filling in a firefighter sandwich.
“Earth to Aimee?” Troy’s voice broke through my inappropriate thoughts. “You still with me?”
I blinked, mortified to realize I’d been staring at his chest again. “Sorry, just... tired.” I gestured vaguely at my head. “Brain fog.”
“Understandable.” His arms were still loosely around me, and instead of pulling away like a sensible person would, I found myself leaning further into his embrace.
My arms slid around his waist, feeling the solid warmth of him, the subtle shift of muscle beneath smooth skin.
I told myself it was just comfort-seeking, a natural response to trauma.
But the way my body responded to his—the quickening of my pulse, the tightening of my nipples against my t-shirt—suggested something far less innocent.
The door to the apartment burst open before I could pursue that line of thought, the scent of fresh donuts wafting in ahead of Rhett’s cheerful voice.
“Victory is sweet, my friends! I have conquered the donut line and returned with—”
He stopped dead in the doorway, a massive pink box in his hands, his sentence trailing off as he took in the sight of me in Troy’s arms. For a terrifying second, I thought I’d misread everything—that jealousy would cloud his features, that I’d stepped into something I didn’t understand.
Instead, Rhett’s entire face lit up like a kid on Christmas morning, blue-gray eyes widening with delight.
“So we’re doing this?” he asked, his voice pitched higher with excitement. Then he clapped his hands together and lunged for us. “She agreed to a threesome?”