Page 81 of Bitter When He Begs

His jaw clenches, but before he can say anything, I’m already walking back upstairs, feeling more than a little fucking pleased with myself.

When I step back into the room, Sage is sitting up, pulling his hair into a loose bun. I toss his duffel onto the bed, flopping back down beside him, watching as he tugs his tank top over his head before stepping into another pair of swim trunks.

He glances at me as he ties the drawstring. “You look way too smug right now.”

I smirk, stretching out on the bed. “Your guard dog looks like he wants to kill me.”

Sage groans, burying his face in his hands. “I told him to leave it alone.”

I chuckle and shoot him a look. “You know he’s not gonna. Nate hates me.”

“You deserve it, though.”

“I really do,” I say with a grin, and Sage shakes his head, muttering under his breath, but I don’t miss the small smile playing on his lips.

I get up and step closer, brushing a hand down his back, fingers drifting to his waist. “You good?”

He nods. “Yeah. Just… adjusting.”

“Want to skip the part where we go back down there and they all make sex jokes for an hour?”

“We can’t hide in here forever.”

“Wanna bet?”

He laughs again, softer this time, and I swear, if I could bottle that sound and carry it with me, I would. “C’mon,” he says, standing. “Let’s go get this over with.”

The second we step onto the patio, all eyes shift to us. Then the chirping begins.

Killian smirks. “Look who survived the sexorcism!”

“How red do we think Sage is gonna get?” Liam joins in, the little fucker.

Ryan crosses his arms. “Bet twenty bucks he turns bright pink.”

Thorn snorts. “Make it fifty.”

Sage groans, face already burning, while I just grin and sling an arm over his shoulders as I lead him toward the group. He swats my arm off immediately, glaring harder, which just makes the guys laugh even more.

I don’t even bother to hide how fucking pleased I am.

“You fuckers done?” he mutters, clearly mortified.

“Nope,” Roman grins. “But we’ll give you a break. You look thoroughly ruined.”

I can’t help it—I lean in close to his ear and murmur, “You are.”

Sage shoves me so hard that I nearly fall into the pool, and the guys burst into another round of laughter.

The inside of the truck still smells like barbecue smoke, cologne, and the faint peppermint from his hoodie, which is bunched between us on the seat, half-folded.

He’s quieter now, not withdrawn or cold, just thoughtful in a way that tells me his walls are almost down but not quite.

I kill the engine, and the silence gets thicker than it has any right to be. He’s already reaching for the door handle when I stop him with a soft, “Hey.” He freezes, shoulders stiff, his hand pausing just an inch away from the latch. I wait for him to look at me, but when he doesn’t, I lean a little closer, keeping my voice calm in the way I only ever use with him lately. “You could still stay.”

He lets out a slow breath, not quite a sigh but close, and turns toward me just enough for his face to catch the dimming light. His expression is unreadable in that frustrating Sage way, but his eyes give him away—they always do. They’re soft around the edges, tired but clear, a little sad. “Luca…”

I already know it’s a no. I already fucking know, but that doesn’t stop me from pushing. “Come on,” I say, voice easy, even though it feels anything but. “The house is empty tonight. You could sleep. No pressure. No bullshit. Just you and me.”