20. Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Jessica
Torres has decided that what this evening needs is eggs.
He's at the counter in the kitchen with his sleeves shoved up and a bowl against his ribs, beating eggs with a fork. There's bread under the grill, and he has already taken the last of the good butter from Sophia's shelf.
"That's Sophia's butter."
"I know."
"It has her name on it."
Torres glances at the empty dish. "That's how I knew whose it was."
"It's my butter," Sophia says from the table, where she's packing her bag.
"Was."
Sophia looks at him.
"I'll buy more, geez."
Luke is in the window seat with a book, his phone nowhere in sight. He hasn't looked up in several minutes and he's laughed twice. I think he stole the Penny Reid off my nightstand.
Sophia takes the butter dish with her out of spite, gets to the door, thinks about it, comes back, and puts it on the counter next to Torres without a word.
Then it's quiet. Three of the people who usually fill this room are in the Preserve tonight.
"I love her," Torres says.
"She's going to poison you."
"I'll deserve it."
The door shuts behind them. It's just Luke, Torres, and me now, and the toast is starting to burn.
Torres's boots are by the door with his jacket collapsed over them. Ander's spare reading glasses are on the shelf where he leaves them, and Soren's folded blanket is over the chair.
"I saw your lizard," Torres says, flipping the bread. "I went to Jon's to drop off a book. He just stared at me while he ate a cricket."
"He does that."
I open the cupboard for a plate and find it has been reorganized by a stranger.
"Who moved the bowls?"
"They were in the wrong place," Luke says from the window seat, not looking up.
"They were in the place where they've been all year."
I look at the cupboard where the butter used to be.
"Okay, if you guys are going to be here all the time, we need to figure out groceries."
Torres puts the fork down. "We?"
"Yes, we. There's no butter. We're almost out of bread. I'm not feeding four wolves by myself."
Torres stares at me.
"What?"
"When have you fed us?"
"I feed you."
"Name one time."
I open my mouth.
Luke lowers his book. "I'd think carefully."
"Whose side are you on?"
"The side with evidence."
Torres points the fork at him. "Thank you."
"I provide the kitchen."
"You provide a room containing a kitchen," Torres says. "I provide food."
"Ander cooked last night," Luke says.
"Soren brought breakfast."
"I made coffee."
Torres looks at the pot. "I made that coffee."
"Okay, fuck all of you."
He grins and goes back to the eggs. "We'll buy groceries."
"All of you."
"Obviously. And whoever finishes something replaces it."
Luke closes his book. "We should probably clean up after ourselves too."
"Yes."
"Done."
Torres looks over at me. "Anything else you need help not doing?"
"I hate you."
"Dinner's almost ready."
The thing about Mateo Torres in a kitchen is that he takes up all of it. Sleeves shoved past his elbows, forearms working, the collar of his shirt sitting crooked so I can see the edge of the tattoo along his shoulder. Every time he reaches for something, his shirt pulls tight across his back.
I try to stop looking.
I look again.
Luke passes behind me on the way to the sink, and his hand finds my waist, and instead of moving on it stays there.
"You've been looking at him for a while," he says, near my ear.
"I have not."
"You have. It's very entertaining." His thumb moves once at the top of my hip. "So have I, actually. He's got no idea."
"I have an excellent idea," Torres says, without turning around.
I lean back against Luke, which puts my shoulder blade against his chest and his hand flat on my stomach, and he makes a low sound.
Torres turns around with the bowl still in his hand and grins.
"Well," he says.
"Put the bowl down," I tell him.
"I'm making dinner."
"Dinner can wait."
He looks at the grill. "The toast can't."
Then he swears, goes back and turns it off, and comes back drying his hands.
I kiss him first, because he's closest and because his mouth has been distracting me since the bread went under the grill. He makes a low satisfied sound and takes his time, one hand spread at the small of my back, the other coming up into my hair.
Then I turn my head and Luke is there. He kisses me slower, one hand coming up to my jaw while Torres's mouth finds my throat.
"Bed," I say when I can. "Both of you."
In the bedroom, with the door shut, Luke works the buttons of my shirt.
"Left side's tender, not fragile," I tell them. "If something pulls I'll say so, and I'm not brave, so believe me when I don't."
They get my shirt off between them, Luke taking the sleeve down, Torres behind me with his hands warm at my hips and his mouth at the back of my neck. Then Luke's palms slide up my ribs, the bra is gone, and his mouth closes over my nipple while Torres holds me steady against his chest.
"Oh," I say, and Torres laughs quietly into my hair.
"That's the one," he says. "Draeven, she does that when you use your teeth a little."
"I'm aware."
"Just helping."
Luke uses his teeth a little, and the conversation ends.
They get me onto the bed and Torres arranges himself behind me, half sitting, so my back is against his chest and his arm lies across my ribs.
He's got one hand cupping my breast and his mouth at the place under my ear that makes my toes curl, and I can feel exactly how interested he is against my lower back.
Luke settles between my knees and looks at me for a second with that green-eyed focus that used to make me lose track of my own sentences in first year. Then he puts his mouth on me.
He finds what I want and then refuses to give it to me at any speed I'd choose, two fingers curling while his tongue keeps a rhythm that is very deliberately not enough, and when I push my hips up he lays his forearm across my stomach and holds me down.
"Luke."
"Mm."
Torres tips my head back and kisses me, and Luke stops holding out and gives me the rhythm I've been chasing. I come with Torres's arm braced across my ribs and Luke's hand flat on my stomach.
I get my breath back and reach for Torres, and he shifts to give me the angle, and I get my hand into his shorts and he stops narrating anything at all.
He says my name twice, and when Luke sits back on his heels to watch us, Torres opens one eye and says, "You could help," and Luke says, "I'm enjoying the view," and I laugh hard enough to nearly lose my grip.
I end up lying on Torres and slide onto his length. Luke comes in behind me, and I feel fingers where Torres is entering me.
"Let's open you up a little," Luke murmurs, working his finger in.
"Yes, more," I moan.
Luke keeps adding fingers until he decides I'm ready. Slowly I feel him pressing in.
"Oh god, so much. Too tight," I get out.
Luke pauses and slides his hand around to my clit. With just the right rhythm he brings me to a fast orgasm around Torres, and Luke slides in as I unclench. It doesn't end. With both of them sliding in and out the pressure keeps building, and I'm panting, chanting yes, yes.
It crests again and I'm screaming. Torres shouts and Luke comes too, and I feel their heat fill me up, and the sounds are obscene.
As I come down, Luke slides out and goes to the bathroom. He comes back to the bed, takes one look at us, and chuckles.
"Everybody up. This requires a shower."
Torres groans, but gathers me into his arms and carries me in to get cleaned up.
"Drink."
Torres holds a glass to my lips. Luke holds up a shirt to slip over my head.
"I think you broke me. I'm just going to bedrot for a week."
Torres grins. "Worth it?"
"That was amazing, and we're definitely doing it again," I mumble.
"Just tell me 'good boy' and I'll do anything you want, babe," Torres says.
"Mmhmm. I'm remembering you said that."
Luke ends up making the eggs, and they take turns feeding me.
Halfway through them, Torres says, "I've got my meeting."
I look up. "With Voss?"
He nods. "He's putting me on the first-years' footwork block. Assisting first, then leading while he watches."
"Torres."
"What?"
"That's huge."
"It's a start." His ears have gone slightly red. "It goes in my file as teaching experience."
I squeeze his hand.
Luke smiles at him. "You got what you asked for."
"Yeah." Torres looks down at our hands. "I did."
Luke pours more coffee. "I heard back from the House office."
"And?"
"They've agreed that anything I do with the review is mine, not Draeven's."
"That easy?"
"They put it in writing. They're not pleased."
"Are you?"
"Very."
Torres reaches over and takes the last piece of bread off my plate.
"That was mine."
"I can make you a fresh one."
Later, the three of us end up on the sofa under Soren's blanket. My feet are in Luke's lap and my head is on Torres's shoulder.
"Tomorrow," Torres says, sleepy. "I'm cooking again."
"I'll supervise the toast," Luke says.
I close my eyes.
"You can buy the butter."