Am I seriously considering a relationship with four men?
Chapter 17
Judge
It feels strange to be behind the wheel of a car again. I’m so used to riding everywhere on my bike, rain or shine. Being inside a vehicle always feels too close to being behind the wheel of a tank. It brings back unwanted memories. But with a small child in tow, a car is the only option. Mia is fast asleep in the back, her innocent face slack, the pacifier in her mouth hanging on by a thread.
I’m acutely aware of Lena’s presence beside me, and Big Joe’s parting words ring in my ears. He held me back as we left. “Take care of them,” he told me—a loving parent warning the new boyfriend not to hurt their precious child. Only I’m not Lena’s boyfriend. I’m not anything to her.
The others have all made their moves. Shot their shots and scored. Lena has proven to be interested in our unique sexual preferences, at least with the others. So what’s holding me back?
“Just tell her you’re into her, make a move, she’s already told us she’s interested,” Cole told me.
But I don’t want to fuck this up. There’s a very real possibility that Lena is the one for us. The girl we’ve been dreaming of. The other guys are all totally love-struck. What if I’m the one who fucks it up for us all and scares her off? Perhaps it’s better to leave things as they are. Remain friends and let the others have her.
Easier said than done.
When Lena removes her sweater, I nearly crash as I catch a glimpse of her bare midriff as her top rides up. I get an erection like a schoolboy and have to shift in my seat awkwardly, trying to hide it.
“Are you okay?” Lena asks, no doubt wondering why I’m fidgeting like I’ve got something down my trousers.
“Yep, just got an itch.”
“Let me help,” she says, leaning over and scratching my back. “There?”
Holy shit, this isn’t helping. My cock strains against my pants. I’m overwhelmed by her, intoxicated by the smell of her. If she doesn’t stop, I’m going to pull over and fuck her right here on the side of the road.
“Yep. You got it.”
Lena pulls back, looking hurt, no doubt picking up on the discomfort I felt with her touching me. If only she knew why.
“Is something wrong?”
“Nope.”
“There is,” she presses. “You can tell me.”
She places a gentle hand on my knee, and I lose it.
“It’s taking every ounce of self-control I have to focus on the road and not pull over and fuck you. Being in cars triggers my PTSD, and I don’t like being touched, but all I can think about when you touch me is fucking you hard over the hood.” The words come out in a rush, quiet yet piercing.
“Oh,” she says softly.
Great. I’ve blown it.
The guys are going to fucking kill me.
“I didn’t know…”
“Well, now you do,” I say tersely, feeling like a fool.
“So then this would probably make things even worse,” she purrs breathily, stroking her hand up my thigh to land dangerously close to my cock.
Shock and surprise course through me as I try to process what’s happening. She’s not rejecting me.
“Yes, it would,” I reply, my cock growing harder.
“You’d probably hate this,” she adds, leaning close, her breath tickling my ear as she nuzzles my earlobe.
