Page 51 of Burned By Sin
“I keep thinking I should just snap out of this. I’ve done it so many times before,” I rasp, “but this time, I don’t know if I can. They’ve all seen me. Seen Rhys and Clay and me…being intimate. How am I supposed to show my face after that?” The sobs come harder. My legs buckle, but Addy lowers us both to the cool tile floor. Giving me a light shake, she forces me to watch her hands move.
“What are you ashamed of? Being a gorgeous woman who has the two hottest guys on campus crawling on their knees for her?”
I know there’s logic in there somewhere, but I’m not ready to recognize it. I’ve always been the one who fixes, who fights, whodoesn’t let anyone see the cracks. But now, all I can do is tremble, cry and feel pathetic. Addy tucks my hair behind my ear, her own eyes glassy but steady as she continues to sign.
“You are strong, but strength doesn’t mean pretending it didn’t happen. It comes from owning it and saying, so what? I’m a badass bitch and I deserve to be here.”
Again, knowing the truth and accepting it are two different things. Addy reaches for a washcloth and runs it under the warm stream of water pounding against the shower cubicle, gently wiping the tears from my cheeks and the soot marks from my neck. It reminds me of why I came in here, of how dirty I feel.
Nudging myself over, I slip into the shower with Rhys’ T-shirt still on. The water pours over my head and body, the material sticking to my skin. Placing the men’s shampoo, conditioner and shower gel beside me, Addy eases my head forward to kiss the top of it. Then, she stands, puts a playlist on my phone and leaves me to wallow and wash in peace.
I can’t say how long I sit for, long enough for the tears to subside and for my heavy limbs to lighten. Exhaustion still calls my name, a bone deep ache that begs to be fulfilled, but it feels somewhat manageable. I drag the sodden T-shirt over my head, wash my hair and body, and wrap myself in a thick heated towel.
Addy is nowhere to be seen when I open the bathroom door. The boys shoot upright from where they’d been sitting, Rhys in an armchair and Clay on the edge of the mattress. The air still pulses with everything unsaid. Their guilt, anger, fear, and their dangerous need to prove who can save me better. I’m so tired of being caught between them, being pulled from one to the other until I feel like I’m going to be torn in half.
Fumbling with my phone to shut off the music, I toss it onto the bed before flopping on it myself. It’s Clay who switches me back to the mic app, unable to stand the unknown any longer.
“How are you feeling, Beautiful?” He strokes my wet hair. In directcompetition, Rhys grabs a second towel and starts to dry my legs. Through all of the self-pity and turmoil, I cringe. I haven’t shaved in a while, becoming all too familiar with these men who call me pet names and treat me like their queen. Spoiled, that’s what I am. And spoiled soon becomes lazy.
Batting the pair of them off, I wriggle up the bed and tuck myself beneath the covers before removing the towel. I know Clay would have looked away, respecting my privacy, whereas Rhys would have probably started dry-humping my leg. The hound in question doesn’t hesitate to strip off and climb into bed next to me, despite it being morning. The material of his boxers presses against my ass, his warmth too inviting to deny.
A sigh sounds through my phone’s receiver from where it now sits on the bedside table. I watch Clay’s shoulders sag as he takes a step back, heading towards the door.
“I’ll give you two some space,” he says quietly, eyes flicking to mine for only a second. Rhys doesn’t move, his chest rising and falling in evenly. He’s locked in for ultimate snuggles and no fucks. Clay lowers his head, preparing to leave when my hand snaps out.
“Wait!” I shout, ignoring the grumble behind me. The last thing I want is for Clay to feel like a third wheel. He’s a part of this as much as we are, whateverthisis.
In my current state, I don’t have the strength to turf them both out, preferring to be alone rather than be seen favoring one over the other. Nor do I want to let either of them out of my sight. Whether I intended to or not, I’ve grown attached, gifting them both a piece of my heart. And now I’m faced with the real possibility someone out there won’t stop until one of us is hurt, I can’t bear to let a moment pass without them by my side.
“Look, I know it’s unorthodox, not to mention selfish and fucking insane. But I could have died last night and all I want is to have both of you close. Please?” I’ve turned my head to plead with Rhys. He’s the one who refuses to bend, who won’t accommodate anyone around himunless it’s convenient. Those blue eyes watch me intensely, the skeletal forms inked on his chest, arms and neck seeming to reach for me. Tears swim in my vision, the vulnerability I tried so hard to trap inside a little box in my mind rising to the surface.
Reaching up, Rhys strokes my bottom lip with his thumb as it wobbles. His gaze flicks to Clay over my shoulder and back again, the cogs in his brain visually turning.
“If that’s what you want.” His breath fans my face and the first real smile of the morning stretches across my face. It doesn’t quite meet my eyes, but it’s a start.
Placing a kiss on my forehead, Rhys turns me back around, his body curving along the length of my back. Clay’s onyx eyes are fixed on me, uncertainty etched into his features. I wait a moment, pressing my lips together. If he leaves now, I won’t stop him, although I’ll understand. As long as that’s his choice. As long as he knew he was welcome. Stalling long enough for my heart to start thrashing, Clay’s limbs fall limp.
“Fuck it,” he breathes harshly. I watch him undress slowly, as if hoping he’ll come to his senses with each piece of clothing that is removed. I know he won’t. There’s no such thing as sense and logic between the three of us anymore. Slipping beneath the cover, Clay’s front presses against my own, any hint of tentativeness vanishing as the thickness of his thigh settles between my legs. This is the Clay I ache to see, the one who throws caution to the wind and grips my hips to pull me against his groin.
My gasp is swallowed, his tongue combating mine with a desperation I know all too well. Usually, Clay’s touches and kisses are unhurried and gentle, but this is something else. It’s pure and raw, the depths of his emotion being poured into me by the hand gripping my face. The other squeezing my hip does not belong to him. I shuffle to be closer, our chests crushing against one another’s, and inadvertently wriggle my ass against Rhys’ dick.
“Stop that right now,” Rhys grunts almost painfully. I fall still butClay doesn’t, his mouth consuming mine. Skilled hands with long, slender fingers glide over my waist and spread over my stomach. Rhys holds me there, simply waiting for Clay to settle.
Sex is out of the question, no matter how much my brain screams for it. My body isn’t ready. I’m not in the right head space, and when both Rhys and Clay take me, I want to be completely lucid. Yes, it’s awhen, not an if anymore. That’s for damn sure.
Chapter Thirty One
Drumming my fingers on the kitchen island, I watch the scene before me from a distance. Watching and waiting for a hint, a clue, a slip up. Harper is curled up on the sofa under one of my cashmere blankets, her hair tied up in a lazy bun. Whilst she reads, Addy is sprawled beside her with a sketchbook balanced on her knees. She bobs her head to the music playing through her earbuds, her entire attitude far too relaxed for my liking.
After forwarding everything I know about Addy onto the hacker kid, he’s repeatedly come back with blanks. No suspicious activity. Not so much as a bleep on her perfect college record. I’m not convinced. It’s always the person closest who flies under the radar. The best friend, the seemingly innocent roommate.
Feeling the weight of my stare, Addy looks up and gives me a girly wave. I glare back, drawing a menacing line across my neck with my fingers. She laughs and goes back to her sketchpad. Harper is oblivious to it all, preferring to live in the world that her novel is providing for a little while. I don’t blame her. I’d escape too if I could, but I’ve got to stay alert, ever watchful and aware of the dangers lurking around her.
Thundering beats against the ceiling, the heavy footfalls of the treadmill upstairs picking up pace. Clayton has found my private gym,and since it’s easier to let him use it than have to see him stalking around all the time, I left him to it. None of us want to leave the house until Harper is ready, preferring to stay close.
It’s been a couple of days since the fire. A couple of days since I laid awake at night, spooning her long after Clayton had left to go back to the spare room. The thought of closing my eyes, of something else happening to her, I could barely breathe thinking about it.
When I saw Harper being pulled from the smoke, the fragility of life hit me like a ton of bricks. I held her in the ambulance, whispering confessions she’ll never hear. It seemed appropriate at that moment, but the reality is I can’t give her something I don’t possess, and a heart is on that list.
