Page 135 of Wicked Minds
“Grayson,” I moan as that first spark shouts outward from my core.
“Right now,” he grunts, eyes on mine filled with feral possession. “Come, right now.”
As if my body is programmed to respond to him, that initial spark turns into a ripple. A rush. A crashing wave thatconsumeseverything in its path as it washes over me, leaving only sweet, sweet bliss in its wake.
It’s only as reality creeps back in, jarring me out of my high, that the complications of our situation seep in through the cracks.
“Is it at all possible to leave you two alone in a room together without you fucking her against the nearest hard surface?” A voice drawls from the doorway, and my cheeks flame crimson as I catch sight of a smirking Royce leaning against the doorframe wearing only a pair of gray sweats.
My hands fly out, shoving at Grayson’s chest and forcing him to drop me as he steps away. I instantly regret that decision when our combined release slips out of me, running down my inner thigh, and I grimace.
“Here,” Royce offers, holding out a roll of toilet paper, and I accept it with a muttered thanks, cleaning myself before darting out of the room to throw it away and take a moment to collect myself.
My bare feet are silent as I pad down the hall toward the living room, their murmured voices becoming clearer with every step.
“Surprised you didn’t feel the need to rip me away from her this time,” I hear Grayson drawl.
“Don’t think I wouldn’t have if I’d thought for one second she didn’t want it.”
There’s a moment of silence where I wish I could see their faces before Grayson sighs. It’s an exhausted, weary sound, as though he’s been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for years and has grown inexplicably tired of it.
“I’m guessing you know.”
“Know what?” Royce responds cryptically, tone giving nothing away. Ducking my head, I grin to myself. My burly protector.
“You know what I’m talking about, asshole.”
“I think you should have this conversation with Riley—without your dick finding its way inside her.”
“Har har.”
“I’m serious, dickhead. The fact you’re not losing your shit right now tells me that you either haven’t fully processed what she told you, or you’re not taking her seriously.”
I can sense the escalating tension from out here, and before words can be said that can’t be taken back, I make my presence known, stepping into the room, bright red face on display as I avoid both of their eyes.
“I need to use the bathroom,” Grayson mumbles, clearing his throat before he leaves the room. Twisting the hem of Royce’s top in my hand, I stare steadfastly at the floor even as I hear Royce approaching.
“James.”
“Mmhmm?”
“James, look at me.” At his soft, demanding tone, I steel my spine and lift my head. I expect to find judgment or anger in his, or at worst his typical icy mask. Instead, it’s the same soft expression he wore when he was buried deep inside me, staring down at me as though I was the only person in the world who mattered.
His understanding throws me completely off-kilter. “Why aren’t you angry at me?” I ask quietly.
“Why exactly would I be angry at you?”
I stare at him in bewilderment. “Because I just—” I wave my hand toward the wall he just found Grayson fucking me against. “And we—” Now my hand flaps stupidly between us, causing him to chuckle as he steps into me. One hand goes to the back of my neck, giving it a possessive squeeze, while the other brushes still-sweaty strands of hair back from my face.
He waits until I meet his stare. “You. Me. Logan. Grayson. That’s the unit. No one else.”
“But—” He must see the confusion written on my face.
“You and Logan are perfect for one another,” he explains. “He makes you smile when you don’t feel like it and brings a light to your dark days.
“You and Grayson have a complicated history, but there’s no denying there’s chemistry there. Maybe even feelings.” Thankfully, it’s not a question.
“And you and me?” I ask tentatively.
