Page 118 of Almost Rotten

He’s quiet for a moment. Considering. Eventually he shakes his head.

“What’s happened here this weekend—the intimacy, and all we’ve shared with you—that’s not something we’ve ever explored before.”

“It’s really fucking hot,” I quip.

He gives me a reserved smile, the look quelling my enthusiasm. “I don’t think it’ll go much further, just so you can manage your expectations. Noah is open and clearly interested in trying new things with us. But if something on a deeper sexual level was going to happen between the two of us, I reason it would have by now.”

“And what about before me?” I ask. “Were you best friends in high school?”

He shakes his head. “We were joined at the hip in elementary and middle school. We drifted apart a bit in high school. Or more like I drifted. Noah always had a knack for being there when I needed him.

“We weren’t as close in college either. He played football, and he spent most of his free time with Meg. We became more intentional about our friendship after they got married and he had taken over daily operations from his parents.”

My chest aches with affection and gratefulness but also a little envy. “I feel a little like an outsider when you talk about your history together.”

“No,” he says, his tone firm. “You’re part of us now.”

His words are an extra layer of warmth to combat the chilly night air.

Emboldened by his declaration, I peer up at him. I hold my breath, weighing my options. I wasn’t going to ask… not now, when I’ve shattered his trust and we’re just starting to find our footing again. But when I saw his thighs up close and personal tonight, new questions flooded my mind. It’s hard not to want to learn everything I can about Mercer Eden.

“Noah told me about his tattoos today.”

Surprise and delight dance across his expression as he fiddles with a strand of my hair. “Did he tell you he cried?”

“He did.” I bark out a laugh. “And he told me you had to hold his hand because Meg couldn’t stop laughing.”

His grip on my legs tightens. “He talked to you about her?”

Pride rushes through me. Not in a self-important way. But in a genuine, grateful sense. “He did. Not a ton. But enough for now, I think.”

That’s the trickiest part of becoming a safe space for another person. It’s imperative to tread lightly and handle their heart with even more care.

“You’re changing him for the better.” He brushes my hair to the side and places a kiss on the pulse point below my ear. Without moving his lips away, he adds, “You’re changing me, too, Little Nuisance.”

A shiver of lust dances up my spine.

These men are changing me as well. In the most beautiful and unexpected ways.

I could easily spin in Mercer’s lap, straddle him, and lose myself to the carnal pleasure I’m guaranteed to experience every time we’re together.

But we’ve already gotten lost in each other tonight. Our physical connection has never been stronger. It’s the emotional depth of our dynamic that needs work.

Bravely, I whisper, “Will you tell me about yours?”

He drops his head to my shoulder and groans.

“You don’t have to,” I blurt out.

Sitting straighter, he adjusts his hold. Then he homes in on me, his expression stony. “Yes, I do.”

“Wait.” I place one hand on his chest.

He captures it and blows on my fingertips to warm them before kissing the center of my palm.

“Before you begin,” I say, “tell me what I can do to support you. I can move to my own chair and give you space, if that helps.”

He shakes his head, then rolls out his neck and shoulders. “Just let me get through it,” he says, his voice gruff. “And please don’t think less of me in the end.”