He made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl, glaring at me through a strand of black hair. “You can’t be serious.”
“Head injury,” I reminded him. “Caffeine’s a no-go for at least another few hours.”
Roan was already circling around him, calm and methodical. “Look at me, Jay.” He tilted Jay’s chin up gently, checking his pupils in the morning light. Jay tolerated it, barely.
“Still reactive,” Roan murmured.
“Still in pain,” Jay countered, voice rough.
Leaning against the counter, Rhett folded his arms and watched them both with a faint smirk. “Could probably take another pain med now. Or—” his grin went wicked, “you know, science says orgasms help with pain management.”
This time Jay didn’t measure his reaction, he half-groaned, half-growled even as he rubbed a hand over his sweet face. “You’re insufferable.”
“You’re welcome,” Rhett said with a wicked grin warming his expression. His honey brown skin held a glow in the morning sun, but nowhere near as much as the glee shining in his brown eyes.
Roan’s shoulders shifted like he was trying not to laugh. It didn’t work. He turned away, the corner of his mouth betraying him.
Without missing a beat, I smiled sweetly as Rhett took a deep drink of his coffee, probably as much to taunt Jay as to enjoy the caffeine himself, then said, “Thank you for volunteering our time later for Jay. I want him to orgasm as much as he needs.”
Rhett sputtered coffee so violently it almost came out his nose. Roan outright laughed this time—low and rich—and my poor Jay looked like he was regretting every decision that had led to this conversation.
“Guess I walked into that one,” Rhett said, wiping his chin with a napkin, still grinning.
“Walked? You strutted,” I shot back.
“Alright, fine.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’ll be good.”
“Doubtful,” Jay muttered, taking his pills with a swallow of water.
We made quick work of unpacking the food, the clatter of dishes and easy ribbing filling the quiet corners of the kitchen. It felt… good. Comfortable, like something we’d all been pretending we didn’t need until it was right here in front of us.
When we finally sat down, Roan caught my hand before I could take a seat. With a single tug, he pulled me down onto his lap instead. His arm settled around my waist, heavy and warm, his nose brushing just beneath my jaw in a lazy kiss that sent a shiver down my spine.
His eyes—steel-gray and intent—held mine. “Mind if we share you this morning,” he asked softly, “or would you rather sit on a hard chair?”
I snorted. “As opposed to your hard thighs?”
It was Jay who nearly choked this time, on his orange juice. Rhett thumped the table, laughing outright.
Mouth curving, Roan met my gaze entirely unrepentant. “Hard muscle and hard wood are totally different things.”
“Lucky for you,” I said, leaning back against him with a smirk, “I’ve got experience with both.”
Rhett let out a low whistle. Jay groaned again—but this time, there was laughter under it.
Just like that, the morning light turned a little warmer. The pain and chaos of the night before faded beneath the hum of connection, messy, imperfect, but real.
I rotated from Roan’s lap to Jay’s side mid-bite, teasing Rhett with a wink as I balanced a forkful of scrambled eggs. The coffee steamed between my fingers, the rich smell mingling with the buttery scent of croissants and the faint tang of orange juice.
“Careful,” Rhett said, leaning forward to snag a bite from my plate. “You’re making me hungryanddistracted.”
“Good,” I said, sliding onto Roan’s lap again. “That’s the point.”
Jay snorted beside me, reaching for his glass, while Roan kept his arm snug around my waist. We laughed, joked, rotated seating, passed food back and forth. It was lazy, easy, and for a brief time, completely ours.
Then my phone buzzed on the counter and I popped up to grab it. The screen flashed Marchand’s name.
“Oh, hell,” I muttered.
