I try to follow his advice, chewing slowly, but God, I’m hungry.
“So,” Jalen says after a moment, his tone casual. “Pity we didn’t bring any entertainment.”
“You mean your DVDs?” Cole asks, and there’s something in his voice. Amusement mixed with what sounds like... exasperation?
“Oh God, not those DVDs,” Malik groans, and I see him drag a hand down his face.
My curiosity sparks despite the fog in my brain. “What DVDs?”
“Nothing,” Jalen says quickly.
“He collects eighties action movies,” Cole supplies, ignoringJalen’s glare. “Has the entire collection. We’re talking original cases, director’s cuts, the works.”
“They’re classics,” Jalen defends.
“They’re terrible,” Malik counters, but there’s affection in his voice. “I’ve seenRoad Housemore times than any person should have to endure.”
“Road Houseis a masterpiece,” Jalen argues.
I find myself hiding a smile.
“What about you?” Dax asks, and I realize he’s shifted positions. Moving behind me. Before I can ask what he’s doing, his legs are on either side of me, and he’s gently pulling me back against his chest.
I freeze. My whole body going rigid at the contact even through my sleep shirt.
“This okay?” Dax murmurs against my ear. His voice is low, intimate. “Just thought you might be more comfortable. You’re still shaking a little.”
I am, I realize. My whole body is trembling with post-heat weakness. The kind of hollowed-out exhaustion that makes even sitting upright difficult.
I should say no. Should maintain some kind of boundary after everything that just happened. Should not be leaning back into the solid warmth of his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“Yeah,” I hear myself whisper. “It’s... yeah.”
And God help me, I let myself relax against him. Let my head rest back against his shoulder, let his arms come around to loosely hold me while I continue eating.
Itismore comfortable. That’s all it is. Just practical. My body is still recovering, still weak, and Dax is warm and solid and supportive.
Nothing to do with the way his scent wraps around me, or the way his steady heartbeat against my back makes my own pulse slow to match.
“You were asking about Sierra’s taste in movies,” Malik prompts, getting the conversation back on track.
Was he? I can’t quite remember through the fog.
“Do you have a favorite genre?” Cole asks, settling into the nest with that easy grace of his.
I have to think about it, my brain moving slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I like... stories? Things with good characters.”
“That’s everyone’s favorite,” Jalen points out.
“No, I mean...” I struggle to articulate it, taking another bite to buy myself time. “I don’t care if it’s action or romance or whatever. I just want to care about the people. Want them to feel real.”
“So not eighties action movies,” Malik says, shooting Jalen a pointed look.
“Hey, those characters are very real,” Jalen protests. “Patrick Swayze’s character inRoad Househas incredible depth.”
“He’s a bouncer who does tai chi,” Cole deadpans.
“Exactly. Depth.”
