My cock is about to burst through my pant seams.
I choke out an awkward laugh. “Yeah. We have everything set up in the living room.”
Rowan places a hand at the small of her back and leads her to the setup.
“This looks cozy,” she says, amused. “You guys outdid yourselves.”
We could have done more.
The couches are topped with extra pillows and thick throw blankets, and a giant cream-colored bean bag sits in front of it.
All of it screams comfort and relaxation.
Rowan found a weighted plush cat that looked remarkably like Alvin from the rescue and picked it up on a whim. It sits at the far end of the couch, leaning against the armrest.
“Yeah, well,” Rowan shrugs, “if you want anything else, just say the word. I’ll make it happen.”
Blair shakes her head and chuckles. “It’s more than enough, guys. It looks comfy.” She sits next to the plush Alvin, smiling softly. “This is great.”
Rowan beams, his eyes bright and earnest. “Anything else you want, babe?—”
“Rowan,” Blair reminds him. “Iknow. But this is what I want.”
He’s so terrified of messing this up, yet everything is going better than we expected.
I’ve never seen my brother look so vulnerable before. His eyes rarely leave Blair, and he looks as mesmerized by her as I feel.
I join her on the couch, sitting next to her and wrapping an arm around the backrest. Rowan gives me a dirty look, but I simply smirk at him.
It’s not my fault I got to the couch before he did.
Blair’s scent is everywhere, making my head spin and my cock ache.
“So. Video games.” I turn to her, meeting her gaze. “Talk to us.”
Rowan sits on the other side of the L-shaped couch, facing Blair. He leans down and rests his elbows on his knees, staring at her.
She laughs. “Look, I used to play those simulator games. I’ve had to build and run restaurants, manage family drama, all that stuff. I just haven’t played in years.”
“So, no horror games?” Rowan asks. “Just more cozy type?”
“Something like that.”
“Was there a reason you stopped?” I ask cautiously.
“As ridiculous as it sounds, I had bad memories associated with them,” she says slowly. Then, she looks to Rowan. “But I’m open to playing games with you two, at least for tonight.”
Rowan looks thrilled. “Really? If you’re not comfortable, we don’t have to.”
“You almost lost your mind when you spotted the games on my shelf,” Blair replies, chuckling. “And it’s something both of you are passionate about. You’ve been supportive of the rescue. You even have ourmerch.” She points to the Furs and Purrs mug on the coffee table. “But tonight? I want to see what you two have created.”
Excitement swirls in my chest. Our games are the exact opposite of what she’s used to playing—the titles we create are full of mystery, horror, and jump scares.
If she wants to see them, how will she react?
She’s not a fan of horror films—how could she enjoy what we make?
“None of them are cute or relaxing,” Rowan warns. “Our tamest one is your classic haunted house murder mystery.”
