ETHAN
There’s a long pause, Dane’s eyes peer over the steel blue plastic partition with a hardened look behind his normally bright blue eyes.
“A3.” My stern gaze doesn’t stray from his.
“You asshole, you sank my battleship,” he finally says with both defeat and a playful anger in his tone.
He’s more competitive than I expected but something tells me he doesn’t mind losing considering what we bet on. Or shall I say, what Hannah made us bet on.
“Whoever loses has to massage my feet.”
When she signed it to us and I repeated it out loud for him, we both just peered over at each other with the same thoughtful look. How can I purposely lose atBattleship?
Regardless, we’re both too competitive to take an “L”, but the punishment isn’t exactlypunishment.
Dane closes the cover of the game and stands, rubbing his hands together with a big fat grin on his face. He must have not shaved today because the stubble that decorates his jawline makes him appear slightly older and more mature than his usual youthful demeanor.
I know Hannah appreciates the look because when we got here she immediately stepped into the hotel room and ran her fingertips through it with more appreciation than I expected. It probably should have made me jealous but I couldn’t help but smirk instead.
The only thing I’m jealous of is his ability to grow said beard.
“Get your gorgeous feet over here woman,” Dane calls out as he plops down on the couch in the middle of the insanely large hotel room that Kobi previously stayed in.
By the look of this hotel room, he must do well as an international translator. Everything is white or cream colored, brand new, and so clean I feel like it’s never been stayed in.
I watch Hannah pad over to the couch and gracefully sit down on the opposite end of where Dane is sitting, then places her bare feet up on his lap and she leans back.
Clearly hating her choice of placement, Dane grabs a hold of her hips and pulls her closer to him, then places the entirety of her legs across his lap so he has full access to not only her feet but her shins, knees, and thighs.
She smiles back at him as she sinks into the cushions. Her eyes roll to the back of her head as he kneads his fingers into the meat of her calves. I swear his number one goal in life is to pull those tiny little moans that vibrate from her throat that he claims to love.
I don’t blame him. I love them too, but I hate the reminder that I’ll never get to hear her voice again. Especially when so much of the reason is my fault.
I didn’t cause the accident but I can’t help but think about what I could have done differently to prevent it. Things would be so much different right now. Hannah would still be able to speak, I’d still have baseball, and I wouldn’t be spending the rest of my life working for my father at a job that I hate.
I shake those thoughts away, trying to stay in the momentand not trail off into the thoughts that steal so many of my nights.
A few minutes pass by as I watch them communicate the way they’ve learned how with each other. Somehow Dane just knows how to ask her questions she can easily answer with just her body language. Sometimes I see her sign out of habit but she’ll quickly make a facial expression or nod a certain way that Dane just gets.
He gets her.
He gets us.
Suddenly I feel like I’m missing out on whatever is starting to happen between them and I don’t want to wait for them to pull me into it and for me to act reluctant even though my body wants nothing more than both of them.
Silently, I stand, reaching into my bag grabbing the necessities I bought at the store earlier, knowing the inevitable when it comes to the three of us.
Kicking off my shoes. I step around the couch, placing myself in front of Dane then slowly kneel directly in front of him. His breath gets caught in his throat as I reach for the middle of his lap. He shifts as his Adam’s apple bobs and I can’t help my lopsided grin as I take ahold of Hannah’s foot and begin to rub into the arches.
“Fucker,” Dane whispers, smiling back because he knows I did that on purpose. I guess his sense of humor is rubbing off on me a bit.
We do this for who knows how long. Hannah writhing under both of our hands as they roam from the tips of her toes all the way to the base of her hips while Dane and I look between her and each other.
The sexual tension is high, we both feel it and for the first time since we met, I don’t hate it.
It’s on the tip of my tongue. The question I’ve been wanting to ask him since the first night. I glance over at Hannah and herrelaxed, hooded eyes sear into me because she knows me well enough to know that I’m holding myself back.
She gives me a soft nod, so small I could have easily missed it, but it’s enough to muster the courage to ask what I've been thinking about for the last four days.
