I grin. I wish I had a camera right now to capture how cozy we all are together. Not only would it make great fuel for blackmail, but I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life. However longthatis.
I’ve never felt as safe and content as I am when we’re wound around each other like we are now.
Mouse’s hand is resting along the back of my thigh, having hitched my leg over his hip. His hardness is nestled right against my sex, and I bite my lip, trying to keep quiet and just enjoy the moment. While he’s no Jameson—thank fuck—he’s impressive in his own right and I arch into him, rubbing myself against him slowly. Down to his pair of boxers and my shorts, there’s precious little between Mason and myself. He grunts quietly, rocking his hips against me in his sleep, pushing me back into his friend. Mumbling unintelligently, Jameson tightens his hold, his own morning wood rubbing against my ass. I roll my eyes. Only in your dreams there, big boy.
Even if he does feel really fucking good.
With a sigh, I start to detangle myself from the mess of arms and legs that are wrapped around me. I’ve made very little progress when the door clicks open, swinging wide without care. The two sleeping men on either side of me stir but don’t wake.
“What the hell?” I angry whisper to Rory as he struts into the room with a glower on his face. He couldn’t look grumpier if he tried.
His emerald eyes are darker as they take in the scene in the bed, but I can’t get a read on his otherwise stony face.
“Thanks for the wakeup call, but I’m already up.” I school my face into a mask of indifference as I slowly pull my leg off of Mason’s body and work to carefully lift Jameson’s arm from my waist. As soon as I start to move, Jameson reaches out again, hugging me to his chest like I’m his favorite childhood teddy bear. I let out an exasperated sigh and purse my lips, looking back down my body, trying to figure out how to get out of this mess without blatantly waking them up. The hour is indecent and I’m not so much of a bitch that I’d push them out of bed.
Rory shakes his head at me like I’m helpless, but he extends a hand. At first, I think he means to pull me from the bed, but within a second Jameson’s hand is lifting into the air without physical help. When Rory’s power tilts Mouse’s body away from me, I take the opportunity to slide from between my bedmates, scooting carefully down the bed and off the end to stand next to Rory. I watch as he carefully places them all back the way they were, minus me, and I grin widely when Jameson ends up cuddling with Mason; his arm around Mouse’s back, their chests nearly brushing as they slumber.
I flash the whites of my teeth up to Rory’s face, thoroughly amused, and am blown away when I see the edges of his stone like lips tip up in the corners. The man is fucking smiling. Somewhere in the world pigs are flying, stones are bleeding, and hell has fucking frozen over. He’s human after all—and he has a sense of humor. The sight of his little grin is devastating to my soul.
It’s as if I physicallywantto like all of these men. Even Rory, who doesn't seem to want anyone to like him, especially me.
Looking down on me, his face sobers and he snaps his fingers, pointing to the door. Just like that, my heart rate returns to normal and I remember all the reasons I practically hate this guy.
Except I don’t. I know I don’t, but I don’t look at that too closely.
No. Right now, I’m going to go kick his ass.
Stomping down the steps, I round the corner and enter the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” He demands from the doorway.
“Getting breakfast. Do you have a problem with that?” I add an abundance of sweetness to my sass, overcompensating to cover the fact that I’d felt something for the man other than annoyed frustration.
“Five minutes. Basement.” That’s all he says before he’s gone.
“What crawled up his ass?” My frustration returns full force, stomping out any remaining embers left from this morning’s lack of judgement where Rory is concerned. I grab a box of cereal, pouring a heaping helping and giving thanks that Jameson isn’t awake to make snarky comments about owing him a sexual favor for every cinnamony square that ends up in my mouth.
I hop up onto the counter in my signature spot that allows me to survey the whole kitchen and shovel a spoonful into my mouth, arching an eyebrow back at Tylin, who is sitting at the table assessing me.
Of the four of them, Tylin seems to be the oldest. It isn’t in his smooth features but in his demeanor. It’s the way he carries himself as if he truly knows who he is. And I think that’s something only age can give you. Knowing yourself. Loving yourself. Trusting yourself.
I’ll never admit it, but I envy that about him.
“What?” I speak around a mouthful of breakfast, uncaring about being ladylike. No one can worry about manners before coffee has been had, and it doesn’t sound like Rory plans on giving me the time to consume a cup of the liquid gold.
We simply stare at each other, neither saying anything or breaking eye contact. I won’t lose. Not in anything. Surely, they realize by now that I don’t give up.
With a crooked grin Tylin tilts his head and his eyes narrow slightly. “For someone with the power to control time, you’d think you’d be able to actuallybeon time.” He lets his gaze fall to his watch before looking back up at me with a smirk on his face.
“Shit.” I hear the stomping footsteps of Rory ascending the basement stairs and quickly down as much cereal as I can before tossing my bowl into the white sink to clatter along the bottom.
Hopping down from my perch, I hurry to the basement door, flinging it open just as Rory goes to reach for the handle.
“Coming. I’m coming.”
“Not yet, you’re not,” Jameson says as he saunters down the steps to the main floor, scratching at his very bare, nearly hairless chest. “You would have been if you hadn’t left me cold and alone in bed.”
If Tylin’s attitude makes him seem like the oldest, Jameson’s makes him seem like the youngest. But that might be his perfect, model-like features too.
