28. Dylan #2
As I walk past, he steps forward so my arm brushes against his chest. Static fills the air.
My breath catches, and he notices, if the flash of his eyes is anything to go by.
He’s not unaffected either, though. His throat moves, and he doesn’t dare blink as I pass.
Even as I stride to the living room, I feel his gaze heavy and wanton on my back.
I plop down onto the middle of the sofa.
Jax drops onto the empty spot beside me and, oh-so casually, drapes his arm along the back of the sofa behind me.
Griffin notices, something dark and possessive flashing in his startlingly blue eyes.
Before Ethan can claim the spot on my other side, Griffin is there, shoving him out of the way and taking the seat.
“Seriously?” Ethan drawls, glowering at him before moving to sit elsewhere. “This is my house.”
Griffin simply shrugs. “You snooze, you lose.”
I roll my eyes, ignoring their bickering as Jax flicks through the channels before finding a new sci-fi movie.
As the opening credits begin, I’m acutely aware of how boxed in I am.
Jax’s thigh brushes against mine while, on my other side, Griffin’s body heat sears into me, even through the leggings and T-shirt I’m wearing.
I’m barely paying attention to the movie as the hero starts off on his wild quest. All I can focus on is how close Jax and Griffin are.
The way Jax’s arm rests along the back of the couch, fingertips ghosting over my shoulder every so often like he just can’t help but touch me in some small way.
Or how Griffin’s arm presses solidly against mine—a silent claim.
His focus is intent on the screen, but I suspect he’s as attuned to me as I am to both of them.
Heat licks up my spine, my skin hyperaware of every shift of their bodies, every touch. It drives me steadily insane as the movie plays out.
While Griffin plays at watching the movie, Jax is the opposite.
With every moment we sit there, he grows bolder.
Subtle brushes of his fingers against my shoulder turn into him playing with a strand of my hair.
His other hand reaches across his body to skim along my arm before coming to rest on my thigh.
It’s a blatantly possessive touch. One that makes me squirm.
Heat bleeds from where he touches me, creeping up my thigh and settling in my core until it becomes impossible for me to sit still.
Torture. Sweet, agonizing torture.
I stew in it for what feels like hours. Growing restless, and hot, and desperate .
The second the end credits roll down the screen, I bolt upright so fast that I nearly trip over my own feet.
“Well, that was…” Lifting my arms above my head, I fake a loud yawn while I stretch, ignoring the stiffness in my muscles.
The ache from sitting still too long. “I think I’m going to call it a night. ”
“Good night,” Ethan says, staring at me with an unreadable expression so I can’t tell whether he knew damn well what was going on during the movie or if he was completely clueless.
“Yeah, sweet dreams.” Jax’s smirk is so damn smug, that I can’t help but glower at him. I don’t dare look Griffin’s way at all, for fear that I might self-combust.
Three sets of eyes follow me as I practically flee up the stairs. But even when they are out of sight, I can still feel their heat, their weight, pressing against my skin.
I duck into the bathroom and run the tap, turning the water as cold as it will go before splashing it on my face. When I finally feel more in control of myself, I brush my teeth, then move to my bedroom and exchange my clothes for an oversized Timberwolves T-shirt before slipping into bed.
The sheets are a balm to my still overheated skin, and I sigh as I close my eyes.
Still, sleep evades me. I toss and turn, unable to get comfortable.
Unable to forget the roughness of Jax’s hands, Griffin’s possessive stare, even Ethan’s furtive glances every time I shifted on that sofa.
He knew . Knew what the others were doing to me.
Knew how their close proximity affected me.
What would have happened if I’d leaned into Jax’s touch?
If I’d reached out for Griffin? I might not be able to have any of these guys in real life, but what harm is there in indulging in a little fantasy?
Especially if it will burn off this need coursing relentlessly through me and enable me to sleep.
Eyes closed, I recreate that moment on the couch as my hand pushes between the lining of my panties. In my head, I respond to Jax’s touch, encouraging him to go further, to be bolder as he trails his hand possessively up my thigh, pulling my legs apart.
Griffin turns in his seat, his lips capturing mine in a passionate kiss. Between his tongue and Jax’s hands, I go up in flames. Every moment trapped between them is kindling that feeds my desire.
Ripping his lips from mine, Griffin bites and licks along my jaw.
My head falls back, eyes falling to half-mast. My gaze catches on Ethan.
He’s no longer looking at the TV. Instead, he’s turned in his seat so he’s staring directly at me .
Need burns hot in his eyes, turning them molten.
His entire body is rigid, as though it’s taking all of his self-control to hold himself in place. To not join in.
I rake my gaze over his broad chest, lingering on the corded muscles of his upper arms, before trailing south to his trim waist. My throat goes dry, and I have to swallow as I stare boldly at the long, hard outline pressing against his jean’s zipper. Oh, how I want him to take it out.
To touch himself while his teammates touch me.
To get himself off while they are getting me off.
My fingers slide through the wetness gathered amongst my folds, and I pretend it’s Jax’s hand as I push inside. His thick fingers, rough with callouses and oh-so talented, driving me higher up the peak.
Beneath their ministrations and Ethan’s hot stare, I soar .
Tap. Tap.
“Dylan.” Griffin’s voice is guttural in my ear, and I clench around Jax’s fingers as they pump into me, making me moan.
Tap. Tap.
“Dylan!” Something about Griffin’s tone slides through my fantasy. I jolt upright, hand still buried between my legs as I blink back into my empty bedroom.
Tap. Tap .
Rapping against the window startles me, and I damn near fall out of the bed at the sight of a figure perched on the ledge outside. Griffin paints a stoic picture, dressed all in black with the moonlight glinting off his sweep of blond hair and piercing eyes boring into me.
For a moment, all I can do is stare at him, unsure as to whether what I’m seeing is real or if I’m actually dreaming now.
“Let me in, Hurricane!”
I throw off the bedsheets and hurry to slide open the window. “What do you think you’re doing?” I chastise. “You could fall and hurt yourself.”
The idiot flashes me one of those boyish grins of his. “I knew you cared about me.”
God , if those devilishly good looks don’t immediately remind me of what I was doing before he so rudely interrupted.
I scoff, “Please, I don’t need any more reason for anyone on the team to hate me—which is exactly what would happen if you broke your leg attempting to climb in my window.” Despite my words, I move aside so he can step into my room.
Except, it’s only when his boots are planted on the ground and his intoxicating presence has infiltrated the air that I realize what a huge mistake that was.
Now, Griffin Price is in my bedroom, seeming larger than life as he takes up far more space than any human has a right to, and I’m suddenly realizing how little clothing I have on .
He notices too. His gaze turns predatory as he drinks me in like I’m a tall glass of cold water and it’s the height of summer. I go to step back, to put space between us, but I’m too slow. He catches my wrist, nostrils flaring as he brings my hand to his face.
“What filth are you up to in here, Little Steelhawk?”
He drags my fingers beneath his nose, eyes closing as he inhales.
I should be embarrassed. Should be pulling my hand from his grip.
But for some disturbing reason, the whole thing only turns me on more.
Perhaps it’s Griffin’s desperate groan, or the hunger that turns his eyes a steely gray, or the possessive hold he has on my wrist. Whatever it is, it does it for me.
I lose all common sense. All rational thought is caught up in a gust of wind and driven straight out the open window, leaving nothing but my primed body and my dirty thoughts behind.
He steps into me, the hard planes of his body pressing against mine as he drives me backward.
On bare feet, I backtrack across my room, unable to look away from Griffin’s shadowed expression.
My arm is wedged between us, his grip on my wrist firm and unrelenting, like it’s the only thing grounding him.
All that’s stopping him from going absolutely feral.
The backs of my legs hit the mattress before I fall onto the bed. Griffin comes with me, his body folding at the waist so he’s leaning over me. Every cell in my body buzzes with awareness. My core clenches, need gathering between my thighs.
“Finish yourself off.”
“W-what?”
Bringing my hand to his mouth, he runs his tongue along my fingers. “Don’t play coy, Hurricane. You spent all night squirming like you were left sitting in wet panties. Now, I want to watch while you finally give your body what it’s been begging for.”
His breath fans over my skin as he brings his face closer while lowering my hand between us. His fingers cup mine as he lays them over my damp panties. He gives me a knowing look. “I want to taste how sweet you are before I stretch this wet little pussy and mark you as mine.”
My breathing hitches.
“What if I don’t want to be yours?”
Through some sort of miracle, I manage to keep the blatant desire I feel for him out of my voice.