Page 34 of Bound By Them
Troy wakes before Edmund. His dark eyes lock with mine and he smiles.
I reach forward to touch his scruffy face. “I like your whiskers.”
He turns his head so he can kiss my palm. “I like your everything. Are you okay?”
He’s talking about my panic attack. I frown, wishing it had never happened. Maybe we can pretend it didn’t. “Yeah. All better. Thanks.”
Edmund stirs behind me, bringing a hand around to cup my breast and pressing his already-hard dick against my ass. “Mmm, angel. Morning.”
“Good morning.” I arch back, pushing hard against him.
He tweaks my nipple. “Lie on your back, I’m going to make it a better morning.”
He dives beneath the sheet. I moan in anticipation while Troy presses soft kisses to my cheeks.
Edmund lifts one of my ankles and starts kissing his way along my leg. Then he stops. “What’s this? What the fuck?”
I try to pull my leg away. Shit. My tattoo. I should’ve cleaned it after our swim—I didn’t even think about it. I shouldn’t have gotten into the pool at all. Grady told me not to go swimming. “Is it infected?”
“No. It’s fucking clear as day. You have the Aseyev symbol.” Edmund’s voice is low. I can’t tell what it means, what emotion he’s hiding.
“Yeah. It’s my family.”
“Got it.” He crawls out from the beneath the sheets and flops onto his back next to me.
I sit up. He has his eyes closed, like he’s shutting himself off from me.
I poke his arm. “What’s the big deal?”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Do you have a tattoo for your family?” I look over his bare torso, but I don’t see anything. There’s ink on his bicep opposite me, though.
“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps.
He said he wanted to make it a better morning—but that’s not happening now. At this point, the only thing that can make it better is my absence.
Troy is incredibly quiet on the other side of me.
Fuck this stupid shit. I fling back the covers. “I should…I should get going. I have work.”
They don’t say anything as I climb to the foot of the giant bed so I don’t have to crawl over either guy. We’re in Edmund’s room, I think. The same one where I took a shower in the adjoining bathroom, with the forest green accents, the giant picture window looking out over San Esteban.
I hurry out and find my clothes in the living room. t-shirt, jeans, and shoes. No bra, no underwear. That’s fine. It won’t be the first time I’ve gone home from a hook-up commando, probably won’t be the last.
“Hey.” Troy comes in as I’m pulling on my jeans. I try not to ogle him in his boxers. “Dani?—”
“Don’t. I told you both a thousand times how much I hate you yesterday. Looks like, with Edmund at least, the feeling is mutual.”
“It isn’t. Don’t say that.”
I whip off the borrowed shirt and tug on my own. I’d like to say I’m pissed, but I’m mostly disappointed. I put aside the petty warring family shit last night, but Edmund is scared off by a fucking tattoo?
“Both of you, lose my number,” I shout over my shoulder as I jab the button for the elevator. “For real, this time.”
Troy doesn’t say anything back. I don’t turn around when I get into the elevator. I don’t want to look at him.
But I catch his reflection in the mirrored wall. His expression is flat, blank. Nothing there.
