Chapter Seven
I’ve been staring at the same page for twenty minutes, scrolling up and then back down, reading the same barista position description four times.
I put my phone face-down on the cushion beside me. Pick it up again. Put it down.
The apartment is quiet. Ryker left early this morning, Aiden’s at the field for practice, and Ash had a seven AM call with a client on the East Coast. I’ve had the whole place to myself all day.
Empty hours to actually get something done, but my brain won’t cooperate.
Every time I get close to focusing it circles back around to tonight.
I pick the phone back up and open a new tab. A coffee shop near Capitol Hill is hiring part-time. I stare at the listing and think, do I have any relevant experience, and then think, who’s coming home first tonight.
I groan and drop the phone on the cushion.
It’s not like I don’t know what’s happening. Three days was the window Ryker gave me. Ash has been patient and thorough and careful with me, but the three days are up.
The elevator hums outside in the hall and I sit up straighter automatically.
The door beeps, I hear the distinct sound of a bag dropping near the entry. Ash rounds the corner into the living room already pulling his tie loose and stops when he sees me on the couch with my phone in my lap and my expression probably giving away every thing going on in my head.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” He tilts his head. “How’d the applications go?”
“Good.” A beat. “Fine. I applied to a few places.”
He looks at my phone. Then back up at me. One corner of his mouth curves.
“Jax.”
“Okay, I applied to one place and then stared at my phone for the rest of the afternoon. I was distracted.”
He crosses the room, reaches down and picks my phone up off the cushion, setting it on the coffee table. Then he holds out a hand. “Come on.”
I look at his hand. “Where are we going?”
“Shower.”
My stomach flips. I take his hand anyway.
He doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking on the way down the hall, just keeps hold of my hand until we’re in his bathroom with the door pulled shut behind us. He sets the shower running and then turns back to me, reaches for the hem of my shirt and draws it up over my head. I let him.
He undresses me without any ceremony but it doesn’t feel like he’s rushing either. My jeans, then his jacket goes over the towel rack, the tie’s already off, shirt next. I watch him and think about how three days ago I’d have looked away, and now I don’t.
We step into the hot water together, steam already filling the space. Ash pulls me under the spray and kisses me. He cups the back of my neck and holds it there.
When he pulls back he reaches for the soap, lathers his hands, and turns me gently to face the wall.
“Just relax,” he says quietly against my shoulder.
His hands move to my lower back, palms flat in slow circles.
I press my hands against the tile and let myself lighten.
He works lower, fingers finding my hole, and my forehead drops against the wall when he starts to open me up with his fingers.
His mouth presses against my shoulder blade, his breath warm on my wet skin while his fingers work slowly in deeper.
“There we go,” he murmurs against my spine, my cock twitches against the tile. He keeps going, stroking and stretching, until I’m loose and squirming against his hand, my breath short. He presses a kiss to the back of my neck, then withdraws.
I stay facing the wall for a second, getting myself together, and then I turn around. He’s already rinsing his hands, watching me over his shoulder, smiling.
We shower properly after that, taking turns under the spray, disarmingly normal. He passes me the shampoo. I get shampoo in my eye. He laughs, which makes me laugh, and the knot in my chest loosens by at least half a size.
Ash towels off and wraps one around my waist before he does his own, which is the kind of thing he just does. He hands me a clean t-shirt and sweats from his dresser.
I sit on the edge of the bed while he goes to cook.
Dinner is pasta, cream sauce that smells incredible and under normal circumstances would have my full and grateful attention. I eat, but I’m running mostly on autopilot. Ash watches me over the rim of his wine glass without comment.
We’re in the kitchen finishing the last of the wine when the front door beeps. Two sets of footsteps sound in the entryway, followed by the muffled thud of a gym bag hitting the floor. Aiden and Ryker are home.
They don’t come into the kitchen. They head down the hall, both disappearing into their own rooms to get ready.
The apartment shifts, the atmosphere changing.
The air feels charged, buzzing with the knowledge of what tonight is.
Ash meets my eyes across the kitchen island, a knowing curve to his mouth.
We listen to the muffled sounds of the others moving around.
Water runs in the hallway bathroom. A drawer shuts.
My stomach flutters nervously, but it’s mixed with a hot spike of anticipation.
Then Ryker’s voice calls out from down the hall.
“Ash. Bring him.”
My pulse kicks up, beating fast against my skin. Ash sets his wine glass down, tips his head toward the sound, and beckons me to follow. I go without hesitation, let him lead the way down the hall toward the closed door at the end.
Ryker’s bedroom is darker than Ash’s. There are no soft cream tones or warm lighting here.
It’s outfitted with deep charcoal bedding, black wood, and sharp edges.
Well-suited for the guy who owns it. The whole room smells like cedar and Ryker’s cologne.
Aiden’s sitting on the edge of the mattress, having changed into a pair of loose sweatpants.
He looks relaxed, leaning back on his hands, chest bare, the muscles shifting as he watches me.
Ryker stands by the window, arms folded over his chest in dark slacks and a tight black t-shirt that clings to his biceps.
They both look at me when I walk in with Ash lingering behind me.
Ryker moves first. He crosses the room, doesn’t say a word, and takes hold of me. His hand grips my jaw, fingers digging into my cheeks to tip my head up. I hold still, breathing in the smoky, spicy scent of his skin just a second before he kisses me.
It’s nothing like Ash’s kisses. Where Ash took his time, Ryker is domineering, fierce, taking over.
He parts my lips and pushes his tongue into my mouth as if he’s staking a claim.
The kiss is wet and deep, challenging me to keep up as he sweeps his tongue along the roof of my mouth.
I’m surprised by the hot flush of arousal that drops down to my groin.
My body responds to his demanding grip faster than I ever would have guessed.
I let out a soft, breathy sound, my hands coming up to grip his wrists just as he pulls back, leaving my lips wet and my chest heaving.
Aiden steps in before I can catch my breath. He takes Ryker’s place, cupping my face in both of his warm hands.
“My turn,” he murmurs, kissing me.
Aiden’s style is playful, teasing. He grins against my mouth, nipping at my bottom lip and sucking it between his teeth.
He swipes his tongue along the seam of my lips, coaxing me to open up again, and when I do, he explores my mouth with a slow, savoring slide that makes me melt into him.
I sag forward a little, my knees going weak.
Aiden catches me, sliding one hand down to grip my hip, chuckling against my jaw.
He rubs his thumb along my hipbone, his touch casual but sparking heat everywhere he touches my skin.
My cock is already aching, straining hard against my jeans and leaking a drop of slick into my underwear.
Ash steps up behind me. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling my back flush against his chest. He leans in, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the side of my neck, sucking a mark into the skin just below my ear.
I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, surrounded by them, the heat of their bodies closing in on all sides.
“Let’s get you out of these,” Ash whispers, his hands moving to the hem of my shirt.
He pulls the fabric up over my head. I lift my arms, letting him strip me down.
He tosses the shirt aside, his fingers slipping down my stomach before he reaches for the button of my jeans.
He undoes it, sliding the zipper down, and pushes them off my hips, taking my boxers with them.
I step out of the pile, leaving me standing bare in the middle of the room.
The cool air prickles my skin, but I’m burning up from the inside.
Aiden and Ryker watch with open appreciation.
Aiden’s eyes drag down my chest, landing on my jutting cock.
He licks his lips, standing up from the bed, and reaches for the drawstring of his sweatpants.
He shoves them down his thighs, kicking them away.
His cock springs free, thick and long, jutting up with a prominent curve.
A bead of pre-cum already shines at the tip, his balls hanging low and full beneath it.
He strokes himself once, a slow pull from base to tip, watching my eyes follow the movement.
Ryker pulls his t-shirt over his head, unvealing the black ink sprawling across his chest, shoulders, and down his arms. The artwork wraps around his muscles, thorns and barbed wire flexing as he moves.
He unbuckles his belt, the metal clinking loudly.
He unzips his slacks, pushing them down along with his briefs, and his cock drops out.
It’s huge, a dark, veiny length of meat sitting dense and full against his thighs.
He grips it, stroking the girth of it in a lazy, arrogant motion that makes my mouth water.