He’s stretched out on the couch across the room, his body too long for it. His legs and feet dangle off the arm. He keeps shifting, grumbling under his breath about springs in his back. I close my eyes, pretending not to hear him.
“Can I sleep up there?
His voice cuts through the quiet, deeper now. I peek open my eyes to find him leaning on one elbow, no shirt and no blanket. Clothed in just his boxers. This is the most naked I’ve seen him. My mouth waters at how perfectly carved his muscles are. Intricate tattoos cut in patterns on his shoulders and down his arms. His twin doesn’t have them. I wonder why.
I don’t answer. Sinking deeper into the mattress, unsure if it’s the guard at the gate, the security cameras on the house, or the mountain of a man tossing and turning on the couch that makes me feel safe.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
My eyes stay closed, my body heavy, but my mind’s racing. The bed feels too good, too soft, like it was built to swallow me whole.
“Hmm?”
“Can I sleep up there? I promise I won’t touch you. I’ll just lie on my side of the bed.” His tone shifts into a whine, though I’m sprawled right in the middle, too tired to move. “I’ll even put my back to you. I just can’t sleep on this couch. It’s too small. It’s got lumps stabbing me in the back and I?—”
He whines on, but I don’t even hear it. I’m already half asleep. When the bed shifts sometime later in my hazy awareness, I’m pulled into a blanket of warmth. Somewhere in the back of my consciousness, Paco jumps off the bed.
“Right where you belong.”
That deep rumble vibrates into my cheek, pulling me from my sleepy fog. I don’t remember saying yes to him coming up here. He definitely didn’t adhere to the rules he whined about on the couch. Yet, it feels so good. Feels great to be taken care of for once. To be looked after. It’s something I could really fall for if this weren’t too good to be true.
“I thought?—”
I open my eyes and push against his ribs to look at him. The rest of what I say never comes out. His mouth is on mine immediately. Hot and fast. His lips work against mine until his tongue parts my lips. Large hands roam my body, pulling me toward him until I’m on top.
His erection is hard and wanting, pushing into my soft stomach while his hands knead my butt. He groans and grunts the entire time we’re kissing. The sounds are really turning me on. He wants me badly. I want him just as much.
All the slow pace and resistance I have put up while watching his actions is melting away in steamy kisses and roaming hands. Everything about this feels so good. Like a treat I deserve. I’ve been good at getting to know him and his brother. Getting to understand their dynamic, sort of. I still have questions. If starting with him is the slow entry into this, then what the hell? Why not?
“Wait,” I mutter against his lips. He stops immediately. His mouth, his hands. Everything. “How does this work? With you and him and . . .”
“However.”
His lips chase mine, wanting to continue, but this time I ease off him, lying on my side to watch him. I need to know more.
“I’m serious. I need to know.”
He moves to where his body mirrors mine. Side by side, I stare at him. He stares at my mouth. The glare from the pool sends ripples across the walls behind him.
“I don’t know, Sof. It just sort of happens. If you’re with me, then he’s cool with it and vice versa. Most times it’s together, but that usually happens after a rager when everyone is drunk off their ass.”
I mash my lips together. “So, this sharing thing is because of alcohol?”
“Not always. But mostly.”
His hand reaches toward my waist, but I push it away. The whole sharing part has already exhausted my brain cells. Now he’s saying it’s the result of getting drunk. That’s even worse.
“Well, which is it? Usually or mostly.”
A big sigh leaves his body. His hand tries again, but I capture it, place it on his body, and cover it with my hand, leaving it there. I should have asked all this before. It never came up after each tired shift that left me ragged and glad to have a handsome chauffeur and, sometimes, a dinner date.
“Sof, what’s really the matter? I’ve been as honest as I can be. But this seems to be backfiring on me.”
Maybe it is.
He hasn’t hidden anything from me. Maybe I just didn’t ask the right questions.
“I don’t like the idea of a guy having to be drunk to be with me.”
