Page 31 of Whispered Promises

Turning on the screen, he flicks to a sports channel and becomes instantly absorbed.

“Rosy’s our guest, Maxi. You can’t just throw the game on if she doesn’t like it.” Bry rolls his eyes, then grabs the remote and offers it to me. It’s sweet that he thought of me so easily like that, but my stomach clenches at being put on the spot. I don’t want them to change their routines or not be able to do something they enjoy because I’m here in their space, their home.

“No, no. I don’t mind. You can watch whatever you want, really,” I reassure, waving away Bry’s extended hand.

“Rosy can choose something next time,” Noah steps in.

Being included in future plans causes all sorts of butterflies to flit around inside me.

Max swivels towards me, his face wide with a cheerful, infectious smile that has one spreading my lips too. “We can put on a chick flick and snuggle. Unlike this lot, I love a good snuggle sesh.”

A sharp snort escapes me. His brows shoot up, and his smile gets even wider, before laughter erupts from us both.

“I snuggle,” Nate asserts gruffly.

I giggle harder. The image of snuggling with any of these men is laughable, beyond my grasp…well, Max or perhaps Bry is believable.

But Noah or Nate?

I cover my mouth to contain the giggles. Although I would be very willing to be a participant if any of them wanted it. That thought has a different kind of image playing in my mind—me sandwiched between two of them.

FOURTEEN

NATE

It’s hard to tell if Max is interested in her more than his usual flirtation. I can see the way he watches her.

He’s drawn to her.

Seeing her laugh at his flirty snuggle offer has a knife twisting in my gut; the shadow of inferiority and the familiar feeling of not being enough sinks its claws deep.

Rosy is mine.

“I snuggle.” The words leave my mouth without thought, and I can’t take them back.

I sound petulant, and I hate it.

But seeing the laughter bubbling out of her…and she’s all happy and shit. It’s hard to let go of the jealousy beating at my chest, wanting out.

I want her happy, but I want her to be mine. She might not know it yet, but she’s a part of my soul.

I’ve never been picked, never been someone’s person. Instead I’ve always been taught that love is conditional; love is a privilege and not given freely. Until meeting the guys, I spent my life trying to earn her love, her attention, her affection.

But it was never enough and never will be.

Bitterness coats my throat over the painful, familiar resentment that cloaks me as I watch Rosy. She looks happy.

As if sensing my inner turmoil, with her face cupped in a palm and elbow resting on the sofa arm, she tilts to face me, an easy smile stretched across her pretty mouth… Like water to a flame, the unease inside me is fucking washed away.

That smile is for me.

Having her attention focused on me quashes the insecurity and jealousy, and the painful grip they had on my gut eases. I return her smile with a slight tilt to my lips, wanting to acknowledge that I see her too.

Her pinky finger twitches and brushes mine. Our hands lie side by side, so I stretch the short distance and link our two fingers together.

Mine fucking smothers hers, surrounding it. Protecting her.

The small contact both eases the need to touch her and exasperates it.