Page 89 of Almost Rotten

“Don’t you dare try to make an age joke right now,” he warns, his lips twitching. “Your knees are going to creak and crack just like this one day.”

I bite my lip, tamping down my smile.

With a hand cupping my jaw, he uses his thumb to pull my lip out from between my teeth. “Just so we’re clear, I fully intend to be around to hear it.”

Emotion swells in my chest, the heaviness of his promise weighing down the levity we just found.

His touch lingers, that thumb now brushing my cheek.

I wet my lips and hold my breath.

He leans in and—

“Take those off. Both of you.”

Mercer storms into the bathroom, yanking his shirt over his head.

He works his belt buckle next, glaring at me with so much contempt I can feel his anger in my bones.

“Do as I say. You’re soaking wet and freezing,” he commands. “You need to warm up. The quickest way is to get in the shower.”

With a grunt, Noah stands, conceding.

He strips off his flannel and drops it to the floor with a wet slap.

I sit on the edge of the tub, frozen.

I can’t—

I shouldn’t—

Mercer steps out of his pants, then stands tall, his hands on his hips, in nothing but a pair of burgundy boxer briefs.

I’m frozen, hyper focused on the tattoos on his thighs, desperate to disassociate. Anything to avoid having to actually face him.

He stalks closer, only stopping when he’s two feet in front of me.

Breath held, I tip my head back.

Hard obsidian eyes hold mine, full of disapproval and anger.

I don’t blame him for being furious with me.

I deserve his ire.

He bends at the waist and grasps the hem of my shirt.

“Wait.” I grip his wrists, stopping him.

He shoves his hands beneath my arms and pulls me to my feet. With a hand twisting the wet fabric of my shirt, he pulls me flush against his body, his lip curled in a sneer.

“Don’t you dare tell me to wait. Not after all the waiting I’ve done. Not after a full week of despair, living in fear that I’m losing you. Use your safe word or shut the fuck up. I’m having you tonight,” he bites out. “And so is he.”

Chapter thirty-six

Mercer

No amount of research or planning or goddamn therapy could have prepared me for this.