Page 13 of Avalanche (Endless Winter #3)

Liam

Coming back to our condo after a day spent wandering through the high-end shops on Main Street feels wrong.

Leaving a world full of clean, crisp lines and sparkling lights to come home to worn beige, musty warmth, the faint hint of sour beer—it feels like dropping into a turn too early, or too late.

Like catching my downhill edge and lurching down the mountain.

It's never bothered me before, living like this.

Even before my injury, when I was drowning in sponsorships and prize money, I always lived in places like this.

I liked the grit, the simplicity of this life.

I never wanted any of that pretentious shit they sold to tourists.

That was for them —for people content with exchanging thousands of dollars for five days a year playing in the snow.

Now…

My gaze drifts to where Antoine bends, carefully untying his boots at the door, his scarf slipping up over his ears, his creamy sweater stark against dark skin. Out of the four of us, he looked the least out of place on Main Street.

He looks the most out of place here. Like a precious stone dropped in gravel.

“I’m going to have a quick shower,” Matty announces, kicking off his boots. He straightens, brushing careless waves of thick blond hair from his forehead, pale skin flushing pink as he casts Lily a hopeful grin.

“I’ll come with you,” Lily tells him, and his hopeful grin turns into something more than triumphant.

That sharp feeling deepens, a rift of tectonic plates beneath the surface. It’s the same feeling that danced behind my ribs when Matty opened the door for Antoine at the cafe. When he gave him that smile that, so far, I’ve only ever seen him give Lily.

Adoration. That’s what it was.

How can I compete with that?

I drop onto the couch and squeeze my eyes shut, throwing one arm over my face. Like maybe if I shut out everything, I can make sense of the noise in my head.

“Everything okay, ma puce ?”

The couch dips and suddenly Antoine is at my side, his body pressed against mine as we sink into the worn sofa.

“Didn’t want to join Matty and Lily in the shower?” I retort, staring into the darkness of my own sleeve.

Antoine huffs, the sound a mixture of amusement and offended disbelief.

“It’s fine,” I lie. “If you wanted to.”

“Hmm.” I can hear the smile in Antoine’s voice. “Is that so?”

I shrug, dropping my arm to my lap, opening my eyes to stare at the wall of beer cans. At the textured ceiling, the old water mark, the drooping curtain.

“And if I was to fuck him?” Antoine’s voice is a purr, dangerous and low against the side of my throat. “If he asked me to. You would be okay with that?”

Heat boils beneath my skin, a surging violence racing up my spine, grinding in my bones. I turn to glare at him, teeth gritted, my breath coming short and fast through flared nostrils.

Antoine grins, a sharp-edged smile flashing white against his skin, green eyes dancing.

“You’re jealous.” He says it with all the pleased surprise of someone receiving an unexpected gift. “You’re jealous of Matty.” His smile grows. My anger falters, stumbling against confusion, against the sincerity of that smile.

He reaches out, tracing the stubble of my jaw with warm fingers, gently turning me to face him. His eyes dart between my own, smile softening to something more uncertain as he searches for something in my gaze.

“I’m jealous too,” he whispers. “Did you think I wouldn’t be? When you pressed his head between Lily’s thighs—didn’t you know I’d want that to be me instead?”

The last vestiges of anger cool, doused like embers beneath icy water. I blink at him as something heavy settles in the pit of my stomach, tightening my throat.

“I… I didn’t think…” I stammer.

But I should have, shouldn’t I? Here I was, silently raging about a smile, about an opened door, but I touched Matty. Felt him quiver beneath my fingertips as he made Lily come, as he spilled his own pleasure onto the mattress.

“Hmm,” Antoine hums, his fingers tapping a rhythm against my jaw. “ Non . No, you did not.”

He trails invisible calligraphy down the side of my neck, resting one hand heavily on my shoulder.

“Perhaps next time, we talk first, yes? Like adults.” His lips curve, eyes tilting up at the edges as if delighting in my discomfort. “Instead of sulking like little school children.”

I huff, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. “I wasn’t sulking.” But the words sound sulkish even as I say them and a self-deprecating smile tugs at my lips. “I’m sorry. You’re right. We should have talked first. Properly, I mean.”

Because we have talked. Sort of. We’ve teased each other about Matty.

About the way both of us watch him when we don’t think the other will notice.

About the way Matty blushes when either me or Antoine look at him too long, or sit too close to him on the couch, or accidentally brush up against him in the kitchen.

“I liked it though,” Antoine admits sheepishly. “Liked watching you both.” He shrugs, cheeks darkening as he leans back into the couch, shifting in his seat, widening his knees. “I think Matty liked it too.”

“Yeah.” The agreement comes on a barked laugh. “Yeah, I think he did.”

Warmth coils low in my stomach at the memory of it.

The sound of Matty’s mouth against Lily, her little mewling cries of pleasure, the feel of power as I held Matty down, as he looked at me with those blue eyes full of adoration and hunger and desire.

At the way they widened in surprise as he came, untouched, with only the taste of Lily on his tongue and the feel of my hand on his neck.

I want more of it. More of him.

“And so?” Antoine drawls, “what happens next?”

I swallow.

Antoine adjusts the tight denim stretched across his lap, his gaze fixed ahead, as if he doesn’t dare look at me for this conversation.

I’m grateful for it. Grateful that he can’t see the way my lips part on breathless excitement at his question, that he can’t see the frantic hammering of my pulse at my throat.

Fear and desire. I’m not sure which is stronger, but I want to clamp my fist around both of them. Rein these feelings in, control them.

“We don’t even know if he’s bi,” I argue weakly. “We don’t even know if he’s interested in either of us.”

Antoine makes a tsking sound of disapproval at this response and my cheeks tighten at the ridiculousness of my own argument. Of course he’s interested in us. No one looks at someone like he does without being interested.

“We… we could explore.” I scrub at my face, as if that would somehow erase the prickling heat burning my skin. “You know. Do more of what we did this morning.” I clear my throat, wave one hand in front of me for emphasis, as if the movement will somehow explain everything.

I make the mistake of glancing in Antoine’s direction and he fixes me with a sharp look, one brow lifting in silent accusation. I glare back at him. He knows I hate this shit. Talking about stuff like this.

“And if I fuck him?” Antoine’s lips quirk as he repeats his earlier question, green eyes flashing with delight at my discomfort. “If that’s where this exploring leads—what then?”

My mouth goes dry, possessive jealousy rushing forth, making my stomach twist. But something else twists alongside it, twining like a pair of serpents locked in a battle. Something hot that has the blood rushing to my balls, has something tightening at the base of my spine.

I imagine Matty pressed beneath Antoine, on his back, thick muscled legs spread wide, that flush spreading down his throat, his stomach quivering as Antoine thrusts into him.

I imagine wrapping my hand around that throat, slanting my lips to his, swallowing the sound of his pleasure.

He wouldn’t close his eyes—he’d stare wide-eyed like a startled deer into my own, just like he did this morning.

Like he couldn’t believe what was happening to him, couldn’t believe that he liked it, that he wanted more.

I imagine sinking my cock between those kiss swollen lips, the way those blue eyes would blink back tears as he chocked around me, his throat constricting as he tried to swallow me down.

“Yeah,” I rasp, shifting in my seat in an attempt to hide the evidence of my arousal. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

Tension hangs heavy in the air by the time Lily and Matty emerge from the shower, wrapped in towels and gleaming pink from the heat. They must sense it, because they both stop outside Lily’s room, frozen like prey animals as they shoot Antoine and I inquisitive looks.

“Have a good shower?” Antoine asks in that way he does, where you don’t know if he’s teasing or being sincere.

Matty nods, tightening the hold on the towel wrapped around his waist.

“What are you guys thinking of doing this afternoon?” Lily asks, looking between me and Antoine, then glancing wistfully towards the grime coated window.

As if I don’t know what that means. As if I don’t know she’s been desperate to get out on the snow all day today despite her promises that she’ll rest. I lift my brow at her. She gives me a defiant look in reply.

“Well,” I drawl, rising to stand. Slowly, carefully, my eyes fixed on her. “We could always do you.”

Her eyes widen, a choked reply catching in her throat as sun-kissed cheeks flame red.

“Subtle,” Antoine deadpans from the couch.

I step forward, ignoring him. I’m done being subtle. I was never good at it, just like I was never good at all that talking stuff, either. I’ve always just taken what I wanted.

I suspect Lily is the same, even if she doesn’t completely realize it yet. I’ve seen the way she trains, relentlessly chipping away at every self-perceived failing. The way she faced Tom, back when he was living with us, the fucker. I’ve seen the way she deals with all of us.

“What?” she squeaks.

Her hands tighten on her towel, pulling it against her chest. Her hair, coiled and clipped up on her head so it would stay dry in the shower, wobbles precariously as she takes a step back.

“You heard me.”

I’m standing directly in front of her now, close enough to breathe in the fresh soap scent of her. I take a deep inhale, relishing it, letting the familiar scent calm the nervous thundering behind my ribs, then cast Matty a questioning look.

His throat bobs in answer, a faint quiver shuddering across his bare chest.

“Unless you have somewhere you need to be,” I add teasingly, daring her to suggest going out to train again.

She narrows her eyes at me, tilts her chin up in defiance.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ma puce ,” Antoine interjects unhelpfully from behind me. “Feel free to tell him to fuck off.”

Lily huffs out a laugh, then glances shyly towards her bedroom.

“Well…” she pauses, tongue darting out to trace her lower lip.

“We could… I was actually thinking…” She bites the inside of her cheek, shooting a quick look to where Antoine sits on the couch behind me.

“It would be fun to try that. With all three of you.” Her hazel eyes dart to where Matty stands frozen beside her. “At once.”

These last words are breathy and throaty soft, and the sound of them goes straight to my cock. A triumphant rush shoots through me, electric anticipation mixed with pride. Of course she’s thought of it. How could she not? Especially after this morning.

I try to stop the smile from curving my lips, but I’m not sure if I succeed.

“At once,” I echo, half teasing, half serious. Because she needs to say what it is she wants. “And how would you do that, love?” I mean for the words to be even, unaffected, but I don’t quite manage it. Can’t quite keep the hungry rumble from them.

Lily’s lips part around an unarticulated answer. I reach out to grip her chin, to trace that lower lip with my thumb, then settle my hand around her throat, until I can feel the wild rabbiting of her pulse.

“Well?” I ask.

I feel when she swallows, the bob of her throat against my careful grip. Her jaw squares with defiance, even as her cheeks flare hotter than the worst windburn.

“Maybe… maybe we could try double penetration,” she whispers, as if speaking those words softly will negate the way they hang heavy in the air between us. Beside her, Matty goes completely still. “You know… one of you in my… um…” She licks her lips, dropping her gaze to my chest.

I release my hold on her throat to tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at me. “In your ass?” I ask, unable to keep the purr from my voice. “You want one of us to take that sweet pussy while another one takes your ass?”

“Yes,” she nods, lips parted around an exhale. “Please.”

Fuck. Fuck. That please. That flash of curiosity and desire in her eyes, even as her cheeks are burning.

She’s going to kill me.

“But there’s three of us, love,” I ask, and thank fuck I’ve got my voice under control, even if my cock feels like it’s going to punch through my jeans. “How are you going to take the third one?”

I can hear Matty’s breathing, shallow and panting. Can hear the creaking of the couch as Antoine rises to stand. But I don’t take my eyes off Lily.

“My… my mouth.” Her tongue darts out, unintentionally emphasizing her plush lips.

I remember the way those lips wrapped around Antoine’s cock, the way he coated her lips with come before she eagerly swallowed down Matty.

Or tried to, rather. My gaze drifts to Matty as I remember that day on the couch.

The size and shape of him. Of course I looked. Who wouldn’t, in a situation like that?

“Is that… is that even possible?” Matty chokes out, blue eyes wide with alarm as they travel up the length of Lily’s body, moving from her muscled legs to the slender arms clutching her towel.

I wonder if he’s imagining that body spread out between us all, opening to take us all in, trembling and sweating between us.

“I mean, is it safe?” He directs this question at me. “We won’t hurt her?”

Something powerful balloons behind my ribs at that question, at his expectant and trusting stare. I imagine him looking at me like that from on his knees, with his lips parted. Or on his back beneath me.

Or beneath Antoine.

“We won’t hurt her,” I assure him. “We’ll take it slow.” I give Lily a meaningful look as I add: “And she’ll tell us if anything doesn’t feel good. Won’t you, love?”

“Yes,” Lily nods. “I promise.”