Yeah, it was good Holden was here. Because he wouldn’t judge Kit for saying—
“I’m angry at Bishop for being a fucking cocktease,” Kit complained, slumping forward. His forehead pressed against Holden’s chest. “He’s the worst.”
Holden froze, then melted into a laugh. “Tell me about it.” His arms tightened around Kit. “No, seriously, tell me all about it.”
Okay, that was more enthusiastic than Kit expected. “You’re not jealous? Or do you just love gossip that much?”
“I’m always jealous.” Holden nudged his knee between Kit’s thighs. Nowhere near Kit’s cock, but the tight denim tugged distractingly. “Which is why I want all your secrets. All your precious desires. I want to know every piece of you—even the pieces you think belong to someone else. Because those pieces still belong to you.” Holden leaned back just enough to touch Kit’s chin, lifting his face up. “Which means they belong to me.”
Kit’s chest thrummed with his quickening heartbeat. Years ago, he never dreamed obsession could be so comforting. There was no doubt in his mind, no fear that this was fleeting, when Holden kissed the warmth back into Kit’s lips.
Kit gave them all another hour, waiting until Bishop collected Holden for their dismemberment bonding exercise. Fresh bitemarks still wet on his throat, Kit sauntered into the safehouse bedroom.
“Are you two done punching each other?” Kit asked from the doorway.
Darius and James looked up in unison. Darius, sitting at the head of the bed, exuded a welcome, steady calm. No hint of tension in the set of his dark-stubbled jaw.
James stopped mid-pace, at the boarded-up window. The fire of his anger had quenched, but uncertainty smoldered in its ashes.
“There’s no ‘each other’ about it,” Darius said, with a hint of amused arrogance. “The punching was entirely one-sided.”
Normally, James would have a cocky retort. He would already be drifting into Kit’s orbit.
“I’m sorry,” James told Kit instead.
“For killing Melissa?” Kit sat at the foot of the bed. His back to Darius, his face tipped up towards James. “Or for killing her in front of me?”
“Are you all right?” James asked. His concern was reassuring. Both because Kit always liked when James was concerned about him, and because it made James seem closer. More himself, less uncontrolled.
Kit’s first instinct was to laugh it off. Insist he was fine. But the bed shifted, and a glance at Darius quelled that instinct.
It was okay not to be okay.
“You freaked me out,” Kit said honestly, leaning back on his hands. “But I’m kind of glad I was there.”
James’s brow furrowed, and Darius’s chuckle warmed the room. “I’d expect that from Holden, not you,” Darius teased.
“I’m not saying I enjoyed it.” Kit took his time sorting out his words. He knew what he felt, but expressing it was more difficult.
Except it was also okay if he didn’t express himself perfectly. He belonged to James and Darius on an intrinsic level. They would understand what he wanted to convey.
“Last time you killed someone—at least, last time I’m aware of,” Kit added hastily. He couldn’t keep track of Darius’s business trips. “I was at Bishop’s house, safely away. The death was distant. Easier to get over, and I don’t want to just get over this sort of thing. I don’t want to be that fucked up.”
James drew closer, guilt giving way to contemplation. He cupped Kit’s cheek, and the gentle touch unraveled a knot of worry in Kit’s heart.
This palm clasped the gun. This finger pulled the trigger.
This pulse drummed indelibly into Kit’s soul.
“You’re a little fucked up,” James said, with a tiny, crooked grin. “You have to be, to date bad, bad men like us. But there’s this goodness in you, too. This sweetness. I want to protect every part of you, the sweetness and the fucked-up-ness and the fucked-up sweetness.”
As Kit’s breath hitched, the bed shifted, and Darius’s broad hand settled over his shoulder. “Don’t forget the sweet fucked-up-ness,” Darius added.
“I’m not sweet,” Kit protested, aghast.
“You’re deliciously sweet,” James said. “I should know, I’ve tasted every inch of you. However.” He tapped Kit’s cheek. “Youaren’t going to distract me with sex this time. I’m still sorry I shot the hostage in front of you.”
Kit leaned into James’s touch, and Darius kneaded gentle circles behind his neck. Occasionally, he dug into the bruises left by Holden’s teeth. Look who was distracting whom.
