Sly pulls out a cellphone. “Three o’clock.”
“I’ve been asleep all day?” I feel slightly embarrassed as I turn to Jagger, my eyes wide. “I’m so sorry! You could have moved me off your lap; that must have been so uncomfortable.
Dex snorts, and when he sees my worried look glance his way, he grins. “Baby, he loved it.”
“He did?” I ask, turning back to Jagger, who nods, making some of the tension leave me.
“I’m jealous you weren’t sleeping on me,” Dex adds. I give him a wary look. He couldn’t really mean that, could he?
“Wren,” Sly says, taking a seat on the corner of the bed closest to me. “Come here,” he crooks his finger at me, and I move to stand in front of him. It triggers amemory of Tony the biker beckoning me the same way, and I hesitate. But this feels completely different. Iwantto move closer to Sly, so I do.
He gently grabs my hips and pulls me to stand between his spread knees before he takes my hands in his. “There was an empty row of seats behind you, so if one of them wanted to stretch out, they could have. But they wanted to stay close to you. We all did.”
“Oh,” I say quietly as I stare into his beautiful green eyes. “Your eyes are so pretty,” I say quietly. He blinks at me in surprise, and I hear Dex snort in amusement.
Sly seems to shake himself out of it before reaching for something on the bed beside him. He holds up a bag of ice, which he must have gotten from the little fridge he found. “I need to ice your face. It’s red and swollen where he hit you. Does it hurt?”
“A little,” I tell him as he presses it against my cheek, the cold making me hiss in surprise.
“I’m sorry we didn’t do this earlier. I was afraid to stop, but we should have. I need to get you some painkillers.”
“I don’t mind, Sly. I’m just happy to be away from there.”
He hums, slow and low, his thumb skimming my cheek as his eyes move over me. His gaze lingers, steady and unreadable, like he’s only now seeing me—really seeing me—for the first time. When a minute passes, and he hasn’t said anything, I whisper his name in question, “Sly?”
“I just want to look at you,” he says quietly. “For nine months, I’ve been trying to picture you. And now that you’re here…” His gaze drags over me, slow and reverent. “You’re even more beautiful than I imagined.”
My heart stutters.
“Fucking gorgeous,” Pete says as he exits the bathroom, eyes fixed on me.
I gulp nervously, realizing I haven’t exactly had a chance to meet him properly without the chaos of their rescue or him being stuck behind the wheel.
Sly pulls the ice bag back, letting me go as I turn toward Pete. He watches me with a hint of amusement and interest as I walk over to where he’s standing and give him the best curtsy I can manage, almost toppling over from bending so low.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Peter,” I say before rising back to my feet. When my eyes meet his, I see confusion and shock.
“What was that?” he asks, his brows furrowing together. “Did you just curtsy?”
“I would have greeted the others like that, but I didn’t have the opportunity.”
“Butwhydid you do that?” Sly asks.
“Why?” I ask in confusion as I look at him over my shoulder. “That’s the proper way to greet men. To show them respect.”
They glance at each other as if sharing in a silent conversation before Sly speaks again, more carefully this time. “Did your brother teach you that?”
I nod, and he presses his lips together with a knowing tilt of his head, like he expected that answer. “Curtsying is rather antiquated,” he says. “You’d only ever need to do it now if you were to meet a king, or someone of comparable rank.”
“But…” I trail off, feeling confused. “How do I show them that I respect their position as my superior?”
They’re all silent for about three seconds before three of them start talking at once.
“Your superior?”
“What the actual fuck?”
“I’ll kill him!”
