“I’d say we’re long due for a ride but with Em . . .” his voice trails off like it always does when any one of them mentions bikes around my brother or me.
I get it, it’s a sensitive subject. We all know the risks of riding. Hell, we all did that Last Ride behind a year ago when a guy at another university got crushed by an eighteen-wheeler. So fucked up, and I’d be lying if it didn’t scare the shit out of all of us, even death with Darko Dommy.
“Let’s do it! Been too long.”
A pause. Then a clearing of his throat.
“Don’t make it weird, Holli. I get it. We all do. But his accident doesn’t have to be the end of us riding together. In fact, it would do us both some good to get out and be with you guys again.”
Another pause and then an exhalation.
“You sure?”
It’s the first thing to bring a smile to my face since sinking into Sofia in the bathroom.
“Very sure. Let’s do it tomorrow!”
One hand leaves the steering wheel to drum on the dashboard in excitement. It’s been a long time, and both Em and I need this ride now more than ever.
“Okay, man, but did Emilio get his cast off, or how is he going to ride?”
A wicked idea comes to mind, and now I’m almost getting a hard-on from how fucking genius it is.
“Leave that to me.”
CHAPTER 18
SOFIA
I shouldn’t feel this tired. Not after a shower. Not after coming home safely. Not after he ensured my home was empty and secure. Not after sleeping in my own bed last night. Not after getting everything I wanted. More than I needed. But I tossed and turned all night. Got the worst sleep in a long time when I needed it the most.
Yesterday feels like a fever dream. Today feels like the fever breaking, leaving sweaty sheets and the hazy memories of what I just went through. Paco’s curled at my feet, snoring in that wheezy little way he always does. His tiny body is warm against my ankle. Normally, that comforts me. Makes me feel snug and happy as a dog mom. But then I remember Emilio coming out with my baby strapped to his chest, singing that song. Utterly ridiculous and charming.
It wasn’t planned. He just did it. Took ownership of my dog without asking and then argued over custody and being a stepdad. It makes me smile as I lie here when I know I shouldn’t. Shouldn’t entertain them in my thoughts more than they already push in.
But that’s what the Dimas brothers do.
They push into places they don’t belong and wreak havoc. And in that swirl of wild energy, they mean well. Not at first, or not initially, could I tell that, but after having him as my patient and his brother by his side every day, that’s what I realized.
“Ay, estoy cansada,” I say to Paco, who buries his face deeper into the covers when I turn the light on. “So tired, mi amor.”
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, convincing myself that coffee will make everything right. My silent apartment presses against me like an unwanted weighted blanket as I pad into the kitchen. Paco doesn’t follow. Too tired from his little sleepover. I wonder what he’d say about it if he could talk. We could compare notes.
I push the button on my fancy coffee machine, which was a Christmas gift to myself last year. Got it on a black Friday sale at almost half the price, and it used to feel rich before I saw how the twins live. That’s a life so far beyond belief that I was uncomfortable.
“But the sex?— ”
My face flames.
“Dios mío . . . fue increíble.”
The admission steals something out of me. Deepens the soreness between my legs. Leaves me a little ashamed and a lot wanting. I thought I would scratch the itch and be done with it. No, it emblazed my whole body, leaving me wanting more and more. Challenging both and loving every second of it.
My core tightens. Almost pulses with want. That much sex in such a short amount of time is criminal. A violation of some law somewhere. But how I feel now, wanting another day of it, well, that’s just not going to happen.
If this is how it would be with them, I’d turn into a sex addict. I’m not one for just lying there. I love to be aggressive with a man, but those two have me beat. I didn’t do a thing, and orgasms were spilling out of me. Some of the best of my life. Even the ones on the counter. I’ve never been curled into a ball, pounded like that, and exploded that way.
Could I get used to that level of attention?
