Page 111 of My Brother’s Best Friends Entanglement

“So,” Marcus says eventually, breathless, “still think we're treating you like you're fragile?”

“Shut up.” She swats weakly at his chest, laughing despite herself. “Consider that a check-up.”

I press a smile against her shoulder. “Yeah? And what were the findings?”

“That I should fall down and hit my head more often,” she giggles.

Marcus growls as I pull her tight against me.

“Don't you dare, Lex. I don't think I could handle it again. Once was traumatic enough.” She settles back, her ass rubbing against me, already making my cock hard again, as she lays her head on Marcus's chest.

I pull the blanket up over all three of us, and Marcus kisses the top of her head with a little contented sigh that echoes my own feelings.

Within seconds her breathing's gone slow and even, tucked safe between us, and neither of us lets her go.

I don't think we could if we wanted to.

TWENTY-NINE

Alexia

Consciousness comes back to me in layers, like someone's peeling me into awake, one sticky note at a time. First, the bed. Soft and warm and cosy. I come to enough to think about asking Rhys how he made his bed so comfy. Then the dull throb of my head, where a Guinness glass hit me after being thrown halfway across a bar. But the memory of what caused that delicious soreness through the rest of my body makes me smile as I remember the way I was held and touched and worshipped and fucked by two of the utterly delicious men I'm living with.

Then come the voices.

Low. Male. Right outside the bedroom door.

I recognise all three of them but can't quite work out what they're arguing about. I push myself upright, wait for the room to decide which way it's going to spin, and once it does and I can handle it, I reach for the t-shirt at the end of the bed and pull it on over my head.

I shuffle closer to the door and the words start taking shape.

“—said leave her be, mate, she doesn't need this right now—” Marcus. Firm. Decisive. His “try me and see how you like it” voice. I like it very much, if I'm honest.

“I'm not saying let him in the house. But shouldn't she get to hear him out?” Zachary argues. Reasonable, considerate. I appreciate him advocating for me, even though I have no idea what they're talking about.

And then there's a third, quieter voice, that garners no argument. “It's not our call either way.”

I open the door and three heads turn at once. “What's going on?” I ask.

Nobody answers immediately. Finally Marcus elbows Zachary in the stomach, making him let out an “oof” before he speaks.

“Craig's outside,” Zachary says, rubbing his belly. “He asked to see you.”

Something cold drops through my stomach. “What does he want?”

“He won't talk to us. Says he'll only talk to you,” Marcus spits. “But I thi⁠—”

Rhys slides him a look and he closes his mouth.

I should say no. I know I should say no, but I can't deny I'm curious how he's going to explain last night.

“It's fine,” I hear myself say. “I'll see him.”

The three of them exchange a quick look, and while I can almost hear them thinking, “is she crazy?” nobody physically blocks me from shuffling to the front door. Before I throw open the door, Marcus stops me to wrap a blanket around me, muttering about Craig not being allowed to look at the goods if he can't even be fucked to protect them. When I cock an eyebrow he just says, “Didn't want you to get cold, you're still recovering.”

I almost laugh.

Craig's standing on the front step when Rhys opens the door for me, hands shoved in his pockets, doing his best impression of a man who's spent the whole morning practising remorse in a mirror. Decent performance. If I hadn't seen the real him fleeing without a single thought about me or Aria or even Jaxon.