His sister would have felt like she’d died and gone to heaven in a bathroom like this.
Peter swallowed, thoughts of his sister putting a lump in his throat and making him want to cry. He’d spent enough time thinking about her and his uncle. They’d fucked him over, tricked him into signing his name on all kinds of documents, and when the FBI came calling they’d let him take the fall.
They weredeadto him.
Forcing his mind away from his family, Peter allowed himself to think about Carver and Tex. If nothing else, they were a fucking fantastic distraction.
The bathroom had yet another door, and this one led into a walk-in closet the size of Peter’s old apartment. The room was divided down the middle, and though each side had its own distinct style, Peter couldn’t place which werewolf each side belonged to.
The right side was mostly suits and leather jackets, with a few jeans and sweaters folded on the shelf, while the left was a mix of business and casual.
Walking into the closet, Peter trailed his fingers over the suits, the wool incredibly soft against his fingertips, and then over the leather jackets. Before he could think better of it, he leaned in and pushed his face against the sleeve of a glossy black motorcycle jacket, breathing in the scent of leather and the faint musk of its wearer.
The smell made his hole clench, and Peter jerked away with a blush and a quick look to make sure his moment of madness hadn’t been witnessed.
What was he doing? Sniffing Tex and Carver’s clothes like some kind of pervert. What waswrongwith him?
Leaving the closet, Peter made his way back into the bedroom and sat back down on the bed. He thought about moving over to one of the chairs, but then he’d have to sit with his back to the door, and that… that wasn’t happening.
The minutes passed, and Peter started to wonder how long he’d be left alone. He’d spent the whole evening hyper-alert and focused, but after just twenty minutes on his own he was feeling dead on his feet.
Would Tex and Carver mind if he lay down and closed his eyes?
Surely not, he reasoned. Lying down on the very end of the mattress, parallel to the headboard, Peter curled his arm under his head and closed his eyes. He just wanted to rest for a second, and then he’d go back to exploring the room.
* * *
When Peter woke up,he didn’t know how much time had passed. The spotlights in the ceiling had been turned off, though the lights in the bathroom were still on, casting a sliver of light onto the bedroom floor.
There was a blanket draped over his back.
Peter froze and listened, realizing that he wasn’t alone in the room anymore.
Tex and Carver were on the bed. Peter hadn’t heard them come in, but he could hear them breathing, and he could feel the mattress dipping slightly from their combined weight. Lying as he was, facing away from the bed, Peter would have to turn around to see if they were awake or not.
He didn’t move.
It felt odd to be at the foot of the two werewolves’ bed. Like he was a pet.
“You awake down there?”
Peter startled at the sound of Carver’s voice, the rough whisper making his skin prickle. Carver was intimidating, his stern face and the way he tended to growl making Peter want to lie down on the floor and bare his belly, but there was also something terrifyingly arousing about him.
“Yes,” Peter whispered.
“Do you want to come up here and get under the covers?”
Peter’s pulse thundered in his ears, his limbs feeling heavy and numb as he wondered what to say.
He wasn’t ready to cuddle with Carver or Tex just yet.
“I’m good here,” he finally managed, his voice cracking on the last word.
“That’s fine.” Carver sounded disappointed, but not like Peter’s refusal was unexpected. “Do you want a pillow?”
“Yes, please.”
Peter started when a fluffy pillow landed next to his head. He lifted his neck and pulled the pillow under his head, a surge of warmth pooling in his groin when he breathed in and the pillow smelled like Carver’s body.
