Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131271 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 656(@200wpm)___ 525(@250wpm)___ 438(@300wpm)
Jacob is stretched out in a chair, one ankle propped on his knees and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are closed, but as soon as I walk in, he speaks.
“Riley.”
“You know, it’s kind of standard etiquette to open your eyes when you greet a guest,” I say.
He cracks one eye open, and his smirk is as lazy as his posture. “It’s kind of, or it is?”
“It is, smartass.”
Jacob chuckles, but the tightness at the edge of his expression doesn’t escape me. He looks sick, like the last time I saw him. Does he have another headache? If he does, maybe I should tell him to go to the doctor. Every time I woke him last night, his bleary-eyed expression and low moans cut through me again. Despite his size and intensity, he seemed so helpless.
Hayes lets go of my hand, stepping back but staying close. “Take a seat,” he says, motioning toward the couch.
I hesitate as memories of what we did on this couch flash through my mind like a highlight reel. His hands, his mouth—
Shawn clears his throat, and I nearly jump out of my skin, finding him pulling a red t-shirt over his head. Somehow, the act of dressing is even more erotic than his previous shirtlessness.
“Right.” I drop into the corner of the couch, curling up against the armrest like it might protect me from whatever is brewing in this house.
Hayes remains standing, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black sweats. Shawn flops onto the opposite corner of the couch, his casual sprawl so different from Hayes’ rigid posture. Jacob remains motionless and unreadable. And inside, my guts twist like they’re trying to ring out all my anxiety and failing.
I bite my lip and focus on Hayes, who seems bigger and gruffer than he did the day before. He has a small new bruise on his cheek, and the one on his neck has yellowed. His beard has grown, setting him apart from his clean-shaven brothers.
The static in the room is almost palpable.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Jacob smirks again, and Hayes shifts on his feet, widening his stance as though he needs more traction to keep himself upright.
“You tell us, Riley.” I stare at Jacob’s relaxed face. With his eyelids closed, his eyelashes make his rugged face almost pretty. Almost like a sleeping angel.
“What do you mean?”
“You like Hayes, right?” Jacob asks. “Enough to let him—”
“Can we not?” Hayes glares at his brother, but Jacob can’t see his warning.
“What? I’m just saying it’s clear that she likes you, which is cute, by the way.”
Hayes’ expression darkens even further. “Cute?”
“But,” Jacob continues, opening his eyes. “There’s a little problem with it.”
“With me liking Hayes?” I ask, my stomach twisting.
Jacob nods, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah. Because you don’t just like Hayes, do you?”
The air in the room is heavy and charged. I glance at Hayes, who’s staring at the floor like it might open up and swallow him whole. Shawn’s grin has softened into something quieter, almost thoughtful.
“I don’t—”
“Don’t lie,” Jacob says, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t just like Hayes. And you don’t just like me, either. Or Shawn.”
My heart skips a beat, my pulse roaring in my ears.
“I don’t like you at all, Jacob,” I say. “In fact, I think you’re a massive ass.” He smirks, but doesn’t argue because even to me, my argument sounds hollow. “This is crazy,” I murmur, shaking my head.
“Is it?” Shawn says, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the couch. “Because it makes sense to me. You like all of us, and we all like you.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I can’t—”
“You don’t have to choose,” Hayes says suddenly, his voice low but steady. When I look at him, his eyes are softer now, full of something that’s hard to define.
My mind skitters and then catches up. “What?”
“You don’t have to choose,” he repeats. “We’ve talked about it, and... We don’t want you to feel like you have to pick one of us. That’s not fair to you. Or to us.”
I blink at him, Jacob, and Shawn in turn, trying to piece together what they’re saying and coming up blank, so I have to ask, even though I fear the response. “What are you saying?”
“We share,” Jacob says, his tone calm, like he’s explaining a play during a timeout or trying to school a toddler on what constitutes good behavior. Sharing is caring, Riley. Don’t you know that?
“This is insane,” I whisper, though the words continue to lack conviction. These men could have anyone. In fact, they’ve had almost everyone, but not together like this. Why me? Why this? Why now?
“Maybe,” Jacob admits, shrugging. “But it’s also honest.”
Shawn nods, his grin returning. “And if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”
I stare at them, my emotions a tangled mess of shock, confusion, and—God help me—curiosity. “Me? What are you trying to say?”