“It just seems like you two are awfully close for something that happened not that long ago.”
“Well, we click. We have a lot in common.”
I let the grin spread across my face, and Warwick—somewhere in the middle of tipsy and shit-faced—pulls his chin back.
“What could you two possibly have in common?”
I quirk my brow at him. “Why do you think Joaquin and I are so different?”
“He's so much older than you.”
I shrug. “You've been in bed with Joaquin. Our age difference in no way hampers our sex life.”
He scratches his nose to hide the snarl on his lips. It doesn’t work. “Well, if you two started during our threesome, how come you haven't invited me?”
“You’ve always been anti-relationship. We were just trying to be respectful.” I will myself into an expressionless stare, and I’m definitely not about to make fun of him.
His disgruntled look is so fucking sexy.
“We all work together,” he declares with a fluttering gesture. “It's weird that the three of us had our thing, and now the two of you are just hooking up left, right, and center.”
“Oh, I'm sorry, Wick. We weren't trying to hurt your feelings.”
“My feelings aren'thurt. But if you get to have Joaquin, I get to have Joaquin.”
“Doesn't Joaquin get to say who he has or not?”
“You know what I mean. I should've at least been given the opportunity.”
“Well then, come join us. Come sleep with us tonight.”
“Sleep with both of you? No. I was talking about fucking. I don't do overnights.”
I tilt my head to the side, regarding him curiously. “When the three of us hooked up, we slept together.”
“That was an anomaly. Can't happen again.”
“Can’t? Why not?”
His eyes narrow. “Why are you grinning like that?”
I school my features. “I don't know what you're talking about.”
A large warm hand lands on my shoulder. Joaquin.
“Fuck,”Wick hisses, flinching when he sees Joaquin’s reflection in the mirror.
Joaquin blinks sleepily. “What is going on in here?”
I point at Wick. “He’s drunk and emotionally compromised.”
Wick’s jaw drops, and he points back at me. “I’m not ‘motionally comp…compormised. Compromised. I’m not the one begging me to sleep with y’all.”
I hold up my hand. “I mean actual sleep. Though now I’m not sure you’re sober enough to consent to even that.”
Shaking his head, Warwick holds up his middle finger. “I can consent to anything I want to.”
Joaquin lets out an annoyed grunt. “Well, then consent to acknowledging that you have feelings for us, and then consent to letting us care for you,” he growls out, his voice strained with exhaustion. “Because then at least I could get some pinche sleep around here.”
