“No need. I brought some.” Ollie waves his hand at the two cooler bags on the floor near the mini fridge. “Rague made you lasagna and all your favorite side dishes.”
“He didn’t have to.” I smile at the bags. I’m really grateful for Rague. Not only because he saved Ollie, but because he really cares about me, too. His patience and support helped me heal. He loves my brother to an almost disturbing level. But more than once, I’ve found myself wishing I could have that same powerful connection with someone. Brad’s face pops into my head. He is the only person I feel completely at ease with, but there’s no attraction toward him whatsoever. He’s like a little brother to me.
“KKJ put ham in the lasagna…it’s like having an orgasm exploding on your tongue,” Lori lets me know. KKJ—King Kong Junior is the nickname Lori gave to Rague. Ollie hates it, and as he drops his head back on the mattress, Lori quickly slides a box inside my desk drawer. He winks at me and then lets himself fall on top of my brother. Heoomphsand then curses him too loudly for a university dorm.
“Let’s go grab a bite to eat,” I suddenly suggest, wanting them out of here. The dorm can turnboisterousat times, a bunch of boys high on testosterone together is a recipe for moronic acts waiting to happen. But raunchy adults visiting? That could be the cause of a dorm expulsion if they keep going.
“Of course, Papa Lori will take you to the best restaurant in town. You deserve it, Sully-doo.”
“Papa Lori…barf,” I throw his way. Still creepy as fuck when he calls himself that.
“If you’d remove your fat ass from crushing my stomach, I would stand up,” Ollie complains from under him.
“Is that why you keep groping it?” Lori retorts as he straightens himself up before my brother does.
“You wish!”
They are such kids. I grab my messenger bag, and as I take a couple of steps toward the door, the strap gets hooked on the chair’s armrest, yanking me backward and making me stumble. Ollie’s hand shoots out and pulls me forward before I hit the desk.
They don’t say anything as we make our way out of the room, one in front, one behind, just in case my incoordination acts up again. How does Lori keep his balance on those stiletto heels when I can’t even walk properly in my Stan Smiths?
three
SULLY
Sully
My dreams are turning…daring. I touched him. My hand trembled over his muscles. That hard bicep, his defined chest and pecs. So warm. So strong. I felt his heart slowly beating under my fingers. Bathed in his intoxicating scent, I dove in and felt completely safe. Because everyone else could smell him on me and knew I was his.
This weekend I’m at Rague and Ollie’s for a barbecue. I’m sitting under the large porch in the backyard near one of the patio heaters. I have the dark green forest behind me and the view of the cottage in front—which Rague renovated and expanded to build extra rooms when I moved in.
I lower the jacket zipper down my chest. Pink is purring on my lap, granting my body extra warmth. Her eyes glow in the sunlight, giving her white fur an almost ghostly air, even morewith the half-gone ear. Ollie named her after his favorite pop singer because of her ballsy attitude and distinctive raspymeow.
As if on cue, she lets out a gruff, drawn-out sound. She’s possibly smelling it too, the delicious scent of barbecue in the air. I need to keep my mouth from watering. Dare, one of the triplets, just started grilling the steaks. It’s going to take time before they are ready. I toss a pretzel inside my mouth as I wait.
Ash and Ren are sitting in front of me, bantering as per usual, both holding a bottle of beer. Four more months and I’ll be legally allowed to drink. Not that I have never done it before. Where I used to live with my father, alcohol was the only therapy one could get—and the only disinfectant lying around.
“You coming to the shop next week?” Ash suddenly asks, his brown eyes directed at me.
“Yeah. Do I need to make an appointment?” He’s a tattoo artist, a very talented one, and I want to finally get the same ink Ollie and Lori got when they were my age. A small triangle, each side symbolizing one of us. The three of us against the world—even though technically, we have the brotherhood at our backs now.
“Nah. Your tattoo is simple, I can easily sneak you in.”
“Just be sure he sterilizes the tattoo bed before sitting. Ugh, the fluid a blue light would uncover,” Ren taunts him.
“My shop is sacred, buttface.” Ash flicks his brother’s forehead.
“Next, you’re going to tell me your dick shoots holy water.” Ren slaps the back of his head.
“At least mine is not a snobbish tool!”
“Pun intended?” Dare asks from the barbecue. His pet squirrel, Fred, is sleeping around his neck. He is the funniest little thing.
Ren ignores his question. “Mine has standards, contrary to your slutty whatever-hole-will-do.”
I know for a fact that they are both very popular withbothsexes—but Ash prefers men.
“You are turning into a hoity-toity asshole.”
