by Ella James
"Listen, man. You need to tell me what's up. You don't look so hot, and I'm gonna be worried unless you tell me how to help."
He casts his eyes to the croissant. He stares at the wall behind me as he takes a bite, chews and swallows, and then drains the glass dry.
He blinks, and I notice that he's got long lashes. "See?" he says. "All better." He gives me a little smirk, and it's so fucking teenager. His face is smooth, and holding Eden, I see why they call it baby face. No sagging and no wrinkles. Guy doesn't even have a set of smile lines. I can tell he's just a kid. It makes my chest hurt seeing how fucked up he seems. Everybody should take care of kids.
"Not a big fan of the bread?" I ask him.
His lips twitch a little. "Not a fan of food." He looks down at his lap—I think it's just to get his eyes away from mine—and his eyelids drop shut. It seems automatic, like he can’t even help it.
"I'll be leaving," he says softly. But he doesn't. He shifts so he lies on his side on the cold floor, his cheek on his bicep, and I'm pretty sure he passes out.
He’s wearing Levi’s—dirty and worn-looking—and what I decide, after a few seconds of looking, is an undershirt and not a T-shirt. Shoes are black boots. They look even more ragged out than his clothes. I shake his shoulder, and I’m not surprised he doesn’t move. I shake it again, and he cracks an eye open.
“Sorry,” he moans. He pushes up on one arm, looking around the hall like he’s not sure where he is.
“You’re in Luke McDowell’s house.” His eyes come to mine, and they look blank. “You remember getting here?”
I can tell he doesn’t, because he won’t say yes, and his face looks like he might cry.
Fuck.
“It’s okay.” I stand up, still feeding Eden. “So listen…I want you to be honest. But I’m not going to mess with you. Or report you.”
The guy looks up at me.
“Is somebody looking for you?”
“I’m an orphan,” he says, a beat too quick.
I shift Eden to the crook of my fucked-up shoulder arm and reach down with the scarred-elbow one.
"Let's get you up and to a bed. You can take a nap and get a refresh. Then we'll talk more."
He gives me a weird look; it’s all eyes. It takes me a long second to realize...I think he looks scared.
Ah, hell. "Listen, man. I'm gonna tell you two things, okay?"
He nods, looking like he might pass out again at any moment.
I turn my arm over, so he can see the inside of it. "You see all that? There's plates and pins in there." I bend it slowly. "See? It's barely normal. I'm still doing PT. It got smashed up—"
"I know." His voice is so quiet. "I know about that,” he says.
I nod. Okay. That makes sense. It's not like the kid's come here by accident. He knows who we are. He probably came because he needs help.
"This other one..." I try to nod toward my shoulder. "Also fucked up. Probably needs surgery. The second thing is, your door's got a lock. There's a couple of different rooms down here on the ground floor, and you can have one of the ones that's got a lock. Used to be staff quarters, so it's like a deadbolt. Keep the women feeling comfortable and all that good shit. Everybody feeling comfortable," I say, arching a brow.
His eyes search my face, and I can feel it—I can feel exhaustion and his...skittishness. Of me.
I hold my ring hand up. "See that there?"
His gaze shifts to my wedding band. "I'm married. Just got legally married nine days back. I think it was." I give a soft laugh. "He's got all that covered. I'm in love with Luke McDowell, and even if I wasn't? I'm not into hurting people."
He looks down. Then, with slow, stiff movements, he helps himself up. Once he’s on his feet—I can see he’s about my height—he gives me a smirk and looks down at my arm. "Don't wanna pull it off."
I chuckle. "Thanks, kid."
He looks like he's barely keeping his eyes open as he frowns at Eden. "You guys got a baby?"
"Yeah," I tell him, smiling as I lead him toward the living room. "Went to the cabbage patch and the stork brought her to the car. One Grade-A Baby."
He smiles, small and sort of sad around the eyes. "Girl or boy?"
"She's a girl. Her name is Eden."
At least I hope it will be.
He nods. His eyes widen slightly as they land on his feet. "I should take these off."
"Nah. You're okay. Rugs can be cleaned. But we're mostly walking down this hall here. We're gonna hang a left and go down about five doors. Past a library. And then your room, the one I thought I'd give you, it's gonna be on the right. There's big windows, and they open fully."
His eyes slide to mine, and they're so damn expressive, I can almost hear him saying thank you.
"This one's falling asleep,” say, nodding at Edey. “If she doesn't take more of the bottle, I'll bring some more food for you and set it on the nightstand. If she does, it'll be a little bit, like maybe twenty minutes. I'll bring you a water bottle, too." We're to the door of the staff room I was thinking would be his. I nod at it, and he opens it himself.
"Damn," he mutters, blinking around.
"Yeah, it was a staff room, but it's not now." I laugh, because I don't know what to say. The room's got a deep purple canopy over its sturdy walnut, four-post bed, and there are massive, gorgeous oil paintings on all the walls—done in a cosmic theme. Except, as I stare, I remember that this isn't cosmos.
"These are cells," I tell him.
"What?" His dark brows bunch up.
I nod. "Yep. Luke's father was pretty into science and all that sort of stuff. So he had someone do paintings of cells and all these things inside the body."
I forgot about these paintings, but they’re very well-done. We almost never come into these other rooms. I think I've only seen this one once.
"It's the windows I remembered," I say, stepping over toward them. "I'm a fan of windows."
"Me too," he says. I watch as he looks around the room.
"You need something now? You see that bathroom door, right? It's only your bathroom. No shared doors."
Something crosses his face. I can't tell what.
His eyes come to my face again. "Thank you," he says. He pushes a hand into his jeans pocket and looks at the floor.
"You don't need a shower before getting in the bed. It can be washed. And we don't mind."
His tired eyes lift to my face again. Then they move back to the window.
27
Vance
Dude fell asleep. Finally.
Eden was asleep on my arm by the time I walked back into the living room, so I headed into the kitchen and used a basket to carry a bunch of stuff back to the purple room. Crackers, chips, cookies, a few bottles of water. Couldn't really make things, like a sandwich or anything more, due to holding Eden. But I figured that would be okay. When I brought him the stuff, I found him sitting in an armchair. He had spread a sheet out over it, I guess to avoid getting the thing dirty.
"Here's some stuff." I left it on the bed and tried to look him over discreetly before leaving. "You need anything else?"
He shook his head.
"You gonna kill me in my sleep?"
He made a cough sound. "No."
"Good. I've got a kid now. And a husband that I've waited on for a long time. So none of that shit, okay?"
He nodded, still looking drained, and also like he thought I might be crazy.
"That said—the bit about no killing—my room is on this same side of the hall, at the other end. It's the last door. It'll be locked—no offense. But you can knock and I'll help if you need it. I just have one request."
His eyes widened slightly.
"Don't leave without saying bye. Can you give your word on that?"
He nodded.
I left his room hoping I'd made him feel okay. Comfortable and stuff. Then I went back into the den and texted Sky, who didn't reply. That hurt. Stupid as it was.
On a whim, I went back
to check in on the guy about ten minutes later, and that's when I found him sleeping in the damn chair.
I'll still take it. Dude needs sleep.
I bring Edey to our room and lie her in the little box-type thing that goes in the center of the bed. It's the same concept as the laundry basket, but it's got some baby-themed name, as well as lower sides, so you can sort of lay your arm in there beside the baby, making her feel like you're with her. Well, I guess I am with her. I check my phone, noting as I do that I left the bedroom door unlocked.
Sky has replied. 'I'm ok, Rayne. Go to bed.'
'Only if you do.' I want to tell him how I fucking hate to be apart. I hate it so much that it makes me almost pissed off. I would never do that, though. Not if he's told me he needs the space.
'I will,' he replies.
'You don't have any melatonin.'
'I don't need it.'
'Missing u.' I send the text because I'm weak.
'Go to sleep, my Rayne babe. I'll be right there in the morning.'
'Are you in bed?' I ask.
‘Yes. Are you?' he asks.
'Yeah.'
'Close your eyes and get some sleep. I'll slip into the bed before you wake up.'
I think of telling him about our guest. In fact, I'm going to. But someone whispers, "Surprise," and I see Sky in the doorway.
He creeps over to the bed, careful not to wake Miss Baby. As soon as he leans over the mattress, his arms pulling me to the edge, I can't stop my dick from popping up like a damn whack-a-mole. After a second going at each other two feet from the sleeping baby, I get off the bed, and we move to the walk-in closet.
"You can't do that shit again," I whisper, closing the door quietly. I take Sky’s pants down, and he does the same with mine, and then our long cocks are out. He touches his to mine, and I grab us both, working both of us in my hand.
"I'm sorry. It scared you." He says it as more statement and less question.
"Yes, it motherfucking did. I didn't know where you went," I say, squeezing Sky’s balls with my free hand, and he gives a soft moan. "I fucking hate that feeling,” I say to him. “Even if you do need space or whatever." I rub my palm over our two swollen cockheads and shut my eyes at how good it feels, having his shaft pressed beside mine.
"Let me make it up to you." He urges me down to the floor, finding my mouth with his hot, soft one. He nips my ear. "Let me fuck you."
I shut my eyes, imagining Sky’s cock stuffed into me—and I can't deny I want it. Maybe even need it.
"Yeah, I know you want me in you." He smirks, looking heavy-lidded, like he fucking knows I’ll let him.
And I do. He turns me over, my dick pressed into the quilt we’ve started keeping spread out in here.
"Lock the bedroom door," I rasp, reaching beneath myself to squeeze my hard erection.
He gets up and does that. When he's back, he opens a drawer, grabs some lube, and sinks down in front of me.
"Roll over on your back again, Rayne baby."
I do, and he pushes his slick fingers into me, stroking so I’m filled so fucking deep my body shudders as his fingertips meet their mark.
“God.”
He adds a finger, and my hips quake from the pleasure.
“Just getting you ready,” he murmurs. “We’ve gotta make this fast so baby doesn’t wake up.”
At that, he draws his fingers out, and I can feel his thick head nudging at me as his free hand strokes my swollen balls.
“So beautiful as always, Vanny…”
He rubs his tip against me, and I inhale, relaxing so I can take him. With a hand on my leg, he swings his hips, filling me up in one heavy, probing motion, making my flesh stretch around him as I grunt and shiver at how fucking deep he is.
“Fuck.” I groan, low and throaty. My dick’s standing straight up.
“That hurt?” His voice is gentle as his hand strokes my hip.
“Hell no.” I grit my teeth as my body trembles.
“I wanna roll over,” I hear myself moan. I want to rub my dick against the blanket and feel Sky holding my hips up as he plows me.
“I can make that happen.” And he really can. I barely even have to move—except one leg—as Sky flips me around. The feeling of his cock pressing against me from the inside as I move is hot enough to make my balls tighten for liftoff.
His hand strokes down my back.
“Sweet Rayne…”
I relax and back myself up on him. His pushes in deeper, and my body quakes with dizzying bliss. A soft grunt from Sky, and his hands clutch my hips, holding me as he seats himself fully in me. I’m stretched wide around him, feeling weak and needy as he shifts again, pushing his head against my prostate.
“Oh God. Fuck. Luke.”
“That’s right,” he says; I can hear him grinning. “Fuck Luke.”
He draws out and plunges back in. Every time he does it, my arms shake and my knees feel unsteady.
He finds where I like him, and he drives me crazy. I’m moaning and grunting, spilling cum on the blanket, and Sky is panting from how close he’s getting. I can feel his dick swell up inside me. I think I can feel the warmth of precum. Then he’s in and out, and in again, and rubbing on me. My toes curl as I groan.
I’m fisting the blanket and he’s whispering, “I love you, Vance McDowell.”
He starts punching harder. I’m flat on my face now and he’s gripping my hips, using me so that it hurts and feels so fucking good. My body goes limp and molten.
“Aghh Sky.”
“I know,” he laughs.
Then he buries himself so deep, and my cock just fucking explodes. I swear I see stars as I pulse in waves of pure bliss—shaking, panting, whispering how much I love him as he slowly pulls out and curls up by me on the blanket. I grab another one from a basket beside us, pulling it over the two of us as he wraps one arm tightly over me.
And Sky is out.
My buddy’s not moving. The baby cries; he never hears her. I get up and grin down at him, looking beautiful and sleepy and chiseled from all the lifting he’s been doing.
Mine. I grin. Then I frown and shine my phone’s light on him. Holy shit. I think Sky dyed his hair brown.
I hit him with the phone’s light again, and he twitches, so I leave the closet.
Eden is still fussing, but it doesn’t wake Sky. We keep some bottles in a fridge in here, so I use one of those, and he’s still sleeping better than the baby when I get her back into her little bed thing.
I check the security cams on my phone, realizing as I do that Dara never reached out about our intruder. But the house looks okay. There’s no evidence our surprise guest left.
I don’t know what time I drift off, in bed by the baby, but it can’t be much before dawn.
I don’t know what time I wake up, but I know what wakes me: screaming.
28
Luke
There is someone screaming in one of the guest rooms. Logically, I know it’s true, but my brain bucks the idea. Sweat prickles along my hairline as I walk down the hall, and my heart hammers. Could stress do this to me?
Another scream. That’s got to be real.
Who is that, and why are they here?
I have the thought of waking V up, followed quickly by the knowledge that I’d never, ever do that. If we’ve got a lunatic in the house, I can handle it. Rayne already took the car hit that was meant for me.
I swallow as I reach the last room on the hall’s right side. It’s the room my dad’s commissioned biology paintings hang in now. I grit my teeth and turn the doorknob as another loud shout hits me like a physical blow.
I swing the door open, and my eyes snap onto an armchair where some guy is curled up in a tight ball, screaming like he’s running from a monster. One step, two, toward him, and I can tell he’s young. He’s got on grungy clothes, and I guess because of that, he’s sleeping on a sheet—so he’s not an intruder. I don’t think.
He screams again, and I grab him by both of his
shoulders. The guy fights me. Wow, he’s strong—and so young. I realize that as his eyes open and I see the tears all over his face, streaming down his cheeks even as he blinks at me in panic.
“Fuck! Sky?”
V bursts through the door. I notice that he’s empty-handed. Also wide-eyed, his face stretched in alarm as he looks from me to the guy and then back to me. I’m surprised when his eyes meet the young dude’s.
“You okay?”
He looks from the guy to me, but then back to the guy—who’s clearly not a stranger.
A spear of heat shoves through me: jealousy, I realize as I let the guy go. He shifts so that he’s sitting cross-legged, covering his face with his hands, which look dirty under the nails.
The guy’s shoulders give a small jerk, like a strained shrug. His back and his chest are heaving.
Vance looks at me, telling me with his eyes that it’s okay. Then he moves past me and puts a hand on the guy’s back.
“You’re okay,” he says—in what I can only call some kind of dad voice. He gives the guy a pat or two on the back, and he looks up at me.
“Hey Sky…can you be sure Little Missy isn’t awake?”
Wow…so this is discreet Vanny, asking me to leave the room without questions. He waggles his brows, which I take as: I’m sorry—love me anyway, please. And I do. I tell him that with a small, probably puzzled-looking smile, and I say, “Sure. I’ll check her.”
I step in the dark hall, listening, and when I don’t hear the baby, I stay put outside the guest room door. Babies scream the house down if they’re upset, so I trust she’s still sleeping. Maybe V knew that and just wanted to give the guy some privacy.
“Hey, dude. What’s up? Or down?” Rayne’s tone is kind and reassuring, but I catch a note of awkward.
“Nothing,” the guy says. His voice is hoarse and quiet.
There’s a brief pause. “You remember last night?”
My legs go so weak and cold, I have to brace my palm against the door frame.
“Yeah.”
What the hell is this?
