“Jesus Christ,” Leo mutters, shoving my legs off him and curling his lip at the same moment Everett groans, “Why the fuck would you say that to us right now?”
“You asked?”
My brother rolls his eyes. “I was trying to be fucking sentimental. Goddammit!” He runs a tattooed hand through his hair. “Can you not allow me to live in a blissful ignorance where my sister isn’t a sexual creature?”
“Why does it offend you so much?” I ask. “I don’t yell at Dahlia when she yaps about how big your dick is, no matter how disturbing I find it. Stop conforming to gender norms, Everett.”
“You shouldn’t have said that thing about his dick,” Leo murmurs. “He’s going to be annoying now.”
“I didn’t need the reminder. I’m well-fucking-aware.” Everett smirks. “And I’m a feminist. We know this, don’t insult me by insinuating otherwise. I don’t think it’s wrong. I just don’t want to hear about it. You’re like a baby to me.”
I smile innocently. “A baby who was so thoroughly ravished—in filthy, derogatory ways, just so we’re clear—that she’s still thinking about it, even a week late?—”
“Hey, Auggie.” Leo flashes a shit-eating grin, eyes raising to something behind me.
My mouth clamps shut, words stuck in my throat as I slowly turn my head, finding August towering in the doorway. Of course, he’s just gotten home from a run, so his white T-shirt is sticking to his toned chest, a lickable bead of sweat falling down his temple. He’s fighting to maintain his composure, but when his eyes flash to me, I find a heat that could match the flame in my cheeks right now.
He heard every fucking word.
“Am I interrupting?” he asks softly. He’s not wearing his glasses, so his green eyes are clear and smoldering when they meet mine, burning holes through my fucking face. “I heard commotion and figured you both must be here.”
“My wife told me I had to leave the house because I’m a stage-five clinger,” Leo chimes.
“I’m not surprised by that in any capacity.” August smiles playfully before lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat from his forehead, revealing his lean stomach and golden skin. The pronunciation of his abdominals could’ve been carved by Michelangelo himself. It’s actually insulting to look like this. It pisses me off, in fact.
A frown tugs at my lips as my gaze catches on an unfamiliar tattoo along his ribcage. It’s fucking huge and heavily detailed. The art is beautiful but heartbreaking. Literally. A human heart spans the length of his side, framed by unmistakable violets, exactly like the design along my forearm. A knife pierces the heart from top to bottom, blood dripping down the blade.
Some kind of script or writing is faded behind the heart, but before I can attempt to make out the words, he drops his shirt, breaking my stare. When I lift my gaze to his face, his eyes are on me.
“You did interrupt,” Everett says, filling the awkward silence. “Our sister here was just telling us all about her orgasms. So, I’d like to thank you for your timing, actually.”
August fights to keep his expression neutral, but I don’t miss the slow rise of his brow beneath that gold hoop pierced through it. The near imperceptible tilt of his lips as he eyes me once again.
“Well, unfortunately for you two”—he nods at my brothers—“I’ve got to take a shower. So, I’ll leave you to Elena and her orgasms.” He smirks, giving me a final once-over before he spins off the door frame and disappears down the hall.
I can only pray that the color of my face doesn’t match the heat licking up my cheeks. My stomach turns over on itself, butterflies clog my throat, and my pussy fucking throbs at the weight of that interaction.
I swallow, willing neutrality into my features.
“So, how’s that going?” Leo asks.
My eyes flash to his, and while he studies me intently, there’s no accusation in his gaze or in his tone. I glance at my twin, who’s oblivious as always, staring down at his phone.
“How’s what going?”
“You and August. Are you good? Friends again? You haven’t talked to us about what living together is like, and I want to make sure you’re comfortable here. Not feeling like you need to stay here out of necessity.”
Everett perks at that, and he slips his phone into his pocket before leaning on his knees.
“Living here is fine. We mostly stay out of each other’s way.” I pick at my nails. “We’ll never be friends again, but we coexist like two roommates should.”
Everett hums contemplatively, his foot tapping against the floor.
“What?” I ask, looking at him. “What is it you want to say?”
I can always tell when he wants to say something but is too afraid, or otherwise feels like he can’t.
“You seem to be doing better.” He shrugs. “I thought August may have something to do with it, that’s all.”
