“Yes, it is,” Orla snapped.
I risked a real glare. “No, it fucking isn’t.”
Locke sighed. “Regardless, it’s not happening, and it was never going to.”
“Okaaay.” Nash tried to catch up with the madness. “Are you sure that’s what she—” He caught Orla’s glare and raised his hands. “All right. Then what are we doing here? Deciding who she can fuck? Cos that’s as messed up as loaning her Locke.”
Locke’s fair brows ticked up. “Say what now?”
Nash grinned. “Babe, she’d never give you back.”
“It’s true,” Orla agreed, pursing her lips as she gave it serious thought while Locke tapped out of the conversation, shaking his head. “So who is there? It’s got to be someone good... which means, actually—” She rounded on me again. “—this isyourfault.”
I scowled as much as I dared. “How’d you work that out?”
“Girls talk, sweetheart. I know it’s been a while, but who do you think has the best reputation around here for giving women multiple Os when he fucks them? And I’ll give you a clue: it sure as hell isn’t you.”
I leaned forward, bracing my elbows on my knees even though it crushed my bruised abdomen, spitting a stupid answer even though I knew the truth. “Your brother?”
Orla smirked. “No.”
I took the jibe about my own performance rep on the chin and let the rest of it sink in.
Embry.
It made sense. He was a people person and apparently a people pleaser too. Who knew?
I should’ve done. He’d sucked my dick enough times, his stormy gaze locked on mine, that I knew he took that shit seriously. And he was beyond fucking good at it.
Didn’t know how it felt to have him inside me, though. Makingmecome with his thick cock, which was definitely what Orla was talking about.
I licked my dry lips.
She smirked, like she knew it—knew that I’d spent years thinking about it, years wanting it, but the right moment had never found us.
Locke took pity on me. Changing the subject. I zoned out while they talked about Christmas. The secret Santa I’d already bossed because I’d drawn Folk and Lili had made his present at art club.
I missed Embry and thought about texting him, but I didn’t know what to say. He already knew I missed him and I loved him, and that I was really bad at being home alone. What else was there to say?
Tell him you want him to fuck you.
Tempting, but I figured he’d sayno. Because I was still healing or whatever. And I wasn’t in the mood to get rejected. I was in the mood to watch him work—watch himmove.His lithe body bending and stretching as he built walls with his bare hands, a skill he thought was menial, but I’d tried that shit. It was hard. The layers of skill took concentration and patience, no gratification until the very end, and...
Oh. Was that a metaphor? Orla would know, but I tuned back into the room to find she’d gone, Locke had too, and I was dozing on the couch to the soundtrack of Nash nailing skirting boards to the walls.
Wow. Two naps in one day. I rubbed my face, trying to clear the fatigue weighing me down. My limbs were fucking lead as I straightened, and the idea of driving home made my head spin.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sleep like that.”
I spared Nash a glance.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re actually asleep.”
“I don’t know what that means.”
Nash fired the nail gun a couple of times, then set it down and moved to the kettle I was already sick of the sight of. Building sites weren’t my jam. “Coffee?”
