But I wouldn’t mind revisiting those actions while sober and able to fully acknowledge who they are… Though I can honestly say, the stalking might be part of the fantasy for me.
God, get a fucking grip.
I stand, letting the hem of Kieran’s shirt brush my thighs. There’s no point in bothering with pants because they’ve all seen me naked.
The door to the hall is open an inch, but it wasn’t like that when I went to sleep. So, someone came to check on me.
I won’t pretend that knowledge doesn’t make my chest tighten.
I step into the bathroom and raise a brow at the new teal toothbrush and the minty toothpaste sitting on the counter… in my favorite brands.
Emotions war with my thoughts, stuck somewhere betweenthis is so fucking sweetandI will gag on whoever was this thoughtful.
I won’t say it aloud just yet, but I do wonder who bought this stuff the entire time I’m brushing my teeth. After a quick face wash, I search for deodorant and find only Kieran’s… but whatever. It works, even though it’s a gel, and I spend five minutes awkwardly fanning my armpits because I hate the way it feels.
My hair goes into a messy bun atop my head, and I pad barefoot down the hallway, ready to welcome the chaos. The concrete floor is chilly, a sharp juxtaposition to the warmth in my fingers. My pulse stirs a little faster as I listen to the guys.
Somewhere in the loft, a pan shifts, clanging against something metal, and a cupboard closes as a coffee machine beeps. Low voices murmur in a rhythm I could almost fall back asleep to.
Domestic.
Terrifyingly domestic.
The moment I step into the open living space, all three guys turn like I’m a gravitational pull they can’t avoid instead of a person.
Silas is sitting at the table with an open laptop and a coffee mug against his bottom lip, pausing mid-sip.
Jace perches on a stool at the kitchen island, eyes sliding down my legs before snapping back to my face.
And Kieran is at the stove, spatula in hand, absolutely forgetting how lungs work.
“Is this the part where you pretend you weren’t talking about me?” I ask, a little sassy from lack of sleep.
“No,” Silas says, stretching the word as he closes a laptop. “This is the part where we offer you breakfast.”
There’s a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast at the end of the table, and an assortment of jellies and jams in the center. A mug of steaming coffee sits opposite the utensils.
It looks domestic in a way that shouldn’t be dangerous but absolutely is.
I move toward the seat but stop dead in my tracks, my eyes locking onto the counter near the fridge.
My phone.
My keys.
My wallet.
My gun.
“I have questions,” I mention absently, wondering when they went back to my apartment to get my things and if they got any clothes while they were there. “And how many you answer honestly will determine how the rest of this day plays out.”
Silas stands, pulling out a chair for me. “Ask. We’ll answer.”
“How long have you been watching me?”
“Since you downloaded the app,” Kieran admits with a shrug.
“Before that,” I state and shake my head. “Did you know who I was before I downloaded the app?”
