I follow after slowly, leaning on the counter as he goes about pouring two glasses of tropical juice, sliding one over to me with a pretty smile. I accept it just as he asks, “What are your plans for the rest of the day?”
Taking a sip of my drink, I shrug and answer, “I’ll probably start editing those photos for you. But that’s only after I have a shower.”
Caid nods. “Cool. You do that and I’ll call the guys. We’ll have dinner together tonight, if you’re up for it.”
My answer comes easily, not having to think about it before the words glide off my tongue. “Sounds good to me.”
The cheeky bastard winks before directing, “Go shower, Blue. I’ll make an executive decision on what we eat tonight. I’ll make it for delivery, and I’ll text the guys when to come up. That should give you time to edit a little, right?”
I nod but point my finger at him in warning. “Nothing gross and healthy. I’ve already worked off enough calories today that I can treat myself to whatever the hell I want to eat.”
Laughing loudly, Caid nods easily, giving in without protest. “Nothing gross and healthy. I promise.”
Putting my trust in him, something that isn’t all that hard to do after the months we’ve already spent together, I do as I’m told and go about showering. It doesn’t take long before I’m bundled in comfy sweats, a cropped shirt without a bra, and my hair slung up in a towel wrap on top of my head.
Caiden is already sitting in my office when I enter, a chair pulled up next to mine, and I battle my smile as I round the desk, switch on my computer, and take a seat. The moment my ass hits the chair, Caid shuffles his own closer, and I cough to hide my laugh before I say, “Caid.”
“Hm?” he answers adorably.
“You’re sitting on me,” I point out. Quite literally, in fact, my finger gesturing to the sliver of air that separates our chairs.
He looks down at the teeny-tiny gap and hums. “Well, would you look at that? You’d be right.”
Does he move, though? Absolutely not. Hell, he might as well crawl right into my chair with me, and I tell him as much. Stupid me, really, because I’m out of my seat before I fully register exactly what just happened. Instead, I’m deposited onto his lap as Caid claims my seat for himself, wheeling us under my desk so I can still reach my mouse and keyboard.
Wrapping his arms around my waist and tugging me against his chest, Caid drops his chin onto my shoulder before muttering, “Hi.”
“Hey,” I chuckle, finding this cute, clingy Caiden completely adorable to the point that I embrace the manhandling and accept the new position without a single complaint. I place my hand over his arm and reach formy mouse, opening my programs and opening my mouth in preparation to break the news that I need to retrieve my camera. Just as I inhale, my camera is placed beside me, and I bite back my amusement before choking, “Thank you, muscles.”
“Mhm,” he answers almost sleepily, his chin still resting on my shoulder.
It’s a comfortable position, in all honesty, so I stay exactly where I am while I work through the photos I’ve taken. Throughout the editing process, the teasing and hyping Caid up over the gorgeous photos I’ve snagged of him, and the waiting for the others to arrive, I realize a very important thing.
I think I could stay here forever.
And that doesn’t scare me anywhere near as much as it should.
Chapter Forty-Two
Maddie
The next week passes in a blur of warmth, exhaustion, and what I can only describe as emotional whiplash. Not the bad kind. Far from it. It’s definitely the good kind of emotional whiplash. The kind where I wake up tangled in my sheets with somebody’s arm wrapped snugly around my waist and spend the first thirty seconds of consciousness trying to remember which man I fell asleep next to the night before. I can’t say it’s something I’ve ever experienced before, and there’s nothing more maddening than trying to scramble through my memories while still half asleep, attempting to determine which delicious Greek god is occupying my bed with me.
My bed somehow develops a shift schedule after that, as though my bed has formed a custody agreement written by men who have become far clingier than I even imagined they would be. Not that I mind. In fact, I’ve been floating on cloud nine all week, happier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. It doesn’t matter to me in the slightest that my bed has turned into the world’s sexiest game of musical chairs, or that my sleep schedule now depends entirely on which man decides I look cuddly that night.
Hell, it quickly becomes my favorite form of entertainment. Caiden sleeps like an affectionate golden retriever who wakes with the sun, Bax sleeps like a weighted blanket with abandonment issues, and Ryan often attaches himself to my side whenever he thinks I’m sound asleep. And Rayne? That guy has somehow managed to make simply existing beside me feel intimate, and it’s a far more potent feeling sincehe hasn’t spent the night since I fell asleep on top of him when I was drunk.
He’s always close, though. Always there. But he’s patient in a way that sometimes makes my heart ache, and that ache grows with every moment we spend together.
The others, however, have no qualms about hogging my bed. In fact, Caid spends two nights with me, all cheeky grins and hand-tousled blond hair, often clinging to me while I’m editing photos at random hours of the night. Bax steals another two nights, all tatted skin and rippling muscle, enjoying my presence as much as I enjoy his. Ry drifts in and out, a little subtler about his affection, but no less thorough in making me feel like one of the luckiest women in the world. And what’s better is that he’s never one to shy away from my affection, no matter how loud, chaotic, or bizarre it is. I’m pretty sure he’s an affection whore in disguise, I just haven’t been able to prove it yet.
And then there’s Rayne.
He’ll curl against me on the couch while I work or we watch movies and shows. He’ll willingly let me steal his hoodies, several of them already hanging in my closet. I’ll receive absentminded kisses on my temple or shoulder while I’m working, or he’ll silence me effectively with his mouth when I’m rambling about what a shithead one of my assistants is, or he’ll listen so intently to me bitching about how much of a threat to society the Autobots really are, even if he hasn’t a single clue what the hell I’m talking about.
Honestly, these men will never appreciate the danger those sentient robots pose to Earth. Those bastards have no consideration for anyone’s property, and it shows throughout a seven-movie franchise.
But anyway, through it all, Rayne never pushes. He never reaches for more than what I know he’s ready for. Which,honestly, doesn’t bother me in the slightest. I don’t mind, because there’s a wild feeling that comes with being trusted with the speed someone is comfortable with. Not to mention, there are still question marks surrounding my tatted enigma. I’ve barely learned anything new about him or his past since we formed a five-bodied relationship, his reluctance to talk about anything to do with it still evident when I mention something in passing.
