Page 92 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Skylar

I couldn’t stop staring at Ryker’s hands as he knelt on my bathroom floor, working on the broken doorknob that had trapped him and Kiaan together the day before.

His fingers moved with precise confidence around the screwdriver, those broad firefighter hands steady and sure in a way that made my mouth go dry. The way the muscles in his forearms flexed with each turn of the screwdriver sent heat pooling low in my belly. Fuck, I was in trouble—big, gorgeous, muscled trouble times two.

And they wanted me to choose between them. The thought of letting one of them down, of breaking up our friendship, made my stomach churn.

I was the one who’d fucked this up. I was the one who’d flirted with both of them, lied to both of them. They were my best friends, closer than Makai, even, and I’d risked everything, for what? A few horny conversations?

“Almost done,”

Ryker said, glancing up at me with those sea-glass eyes that shifted between blue and green depending on the light. Right now, they were more green, flecked with gold from the morning sunlight streaming through the small bathroom window.

I leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over my chest to hide the way my nipples had hardened just watching him work.

“Good. I’d hate for anyone else to get trapped in here.”

My voice came out huskier than I intended.

The memory of them in the bathroom flashed through my mind again. By the time I’d stopped by to pick up a warmer jacket for the next tour I was running, they’d been trapped in the bathroom for several hours, the shitty doorknob on the used door I’d found for free on a swap site giving out at the possible moment.

I struggled to shake the image of them sitting side by side on the floor, shoulders touching, both mostly naked. At first I’d thought maybe they’d hooked up. I mean, Ryker was bisexual, and… two half-naked guys don’t enter a bathroom without reason. The image had burned itself into my brain—two ridiculously hot men, one bathroom, and a lot of subtext I hadn’t been prepared to process.

Ryker had later told me it was an accident, that Kiaan had come in to shower without realizing he was in there already.

“Your face is turning red,”

Ryker observed, the corner of his mouth quirking up.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing,”

I lied, pushing my glasses up my nose.

“Just... wondering how two grown men couldn’t figure out how to escape a bathroom.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“The knob fell off on both sides. No way to turn the mechanism. Believe me, we tried.”

He held up the old brass doorknob, tarnished with age.

“This thing’s probably older than all of us combined. Did you get it at an antique shop or something?”

“I got a lot of recycled parts from a teardown near here when we were building my cabin. Loved the quirky feel of old and new blended together.”

“I like it, too,”

he said, beaming at me.

“Which is why I didn’t want to risk kicking down the door.”

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak as I watched him return to his work, biceps straining against the sleeves of his t-shirt. God, he was gorgeous—all that power and strength contained in careful, deliberate movements. And Kiaan was his perfect opposite—lean and wiry, all sharp angles and restless motion. The thought of them pressed together in that small space made something twist hot and needy inside me.

What would they look like together? Would Ryker’s broad hands look even bigger against Kiaan’s narrower frame? The images flooded my mind unbidden—Ryker pressing Kiaan against the wall, Kiaan’s clever fingers tangled in Ryker’s hair, the two of them looking at me with matching hunger in their eyes...

“Motherfucker,”

I muttered.

Ryker looked up, eyebrows raised. “Problem?”

“Nope. No problem. Everything’s super fucking normal here.”

I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

“Just watching you... fix things. Very fascinating. Much excitement. Wow.”

His lips twitched, eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I’m almost done. Just need to secure the faceplate.”

I nodded too enthusiastically, desperate to cover the awkwardness.

“Makai will be thrilled you handled this. I’m not very handy with building stuff, and he’s busy with his partners.”

“It’s not a bad tiny house,”

Ryker said, carefully aligning the new doorknob.

“Just needs some maintenance, since you built it with pieces of an older house. Older houses are like that—they have character, but they need someone to take care of them.”

The way he said it—with such gentle intention—made my chest tighten.

“Where’s Kiaan this morning?”

Ryker asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

“He went for a run,”

I said, remembering how Kiaan had slipped out at dawn, expensive running shoes in hand, mumbling something about needing to clear his head.

“Said he’d be back for later.”

Ryker nodded, seemingly unsurprised.

“He was pretty restless last night. After we got out of the bathroom.”

I bit my lip, curiosity winning out over self-preservation.

“What did you guys talk about? While you were trapped?”

His hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their work.

“This and that. He spent a lot of time complaining that you didn’t like his helicopter ride as much as you liked my shelf.”

I rolled my eyes, because that wasn’t the problem at all. I liked them both too much. Liked every sweet thing they did for me. That was the problem. Knowing they expected me to choose. Knowing I was going to break one of their hearts.

I narrowed my eyes, not believing him for a second.

“That’s it? You spent two hours locked in a tiny bathroom together, and you just... made small talk?”

Ryker’s eyes flicked up to mine, something unreadable passing through them.

“We talked about you, too.”

My heart stumbled in my chest.

“About me?”

“Mmm.”

The noncommittal sound was infuriating.

“What about me?”

I pressed, unable to stop myself.

Ryker tightened the final screw before sitting back on his heels, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“About how we both care about you. How neither of us wants to fuck this up.”

He looked up at me, his eyes serious.

“How complicated this whole situation is.”

How complicated I’d made the situation. My stomach lurched. I was suddenly very aware of how small the bathroom was, how close we were standing.

“And did you come to any conclusions?”

“Not really.”

He stood up, towering over me in the confined space.

“Except that we’re both here because we want to be. Because you matter to us.”

He reached past me to test the doorknob, his arm brushing against mine, sending electricity skittering across my skin. The new knob turned smoothly, the door opening and closing with a satisfying click.

“There,”

he said, his voice lower now, intimate in the small space.

“Good as new.”

“Good boy,”

I said without thinking, the praise slipping out like it had so many times in our late-night chats, when I’d tell him what to do, how to touch himself, when he could come.

His reaction was immediate and visceral—his pupils dilated, his breath catching audibly. His chin dipped, a flush creeping up his neck as his eyes skimmed over my body, lingering on my lips, my breasts, my hips. For a heartbeat, I thought he might reach for me, might press me against the wall and claim my mouth with his.

Instead, he took a deliberate step back. He was always so fucking respectful, always waiting for clear consent. He knelt again to gather the tools, placing them carefully back in the toolbox he’d borrowed from Makai.

My stomach twisted with a familiar longing. Online, I’d been so confident with him. The domme persona came naturally as I ordered him around, told him what I wanted, how I wanted it. I’d made him edge for days, commanded him to send photos of his cock straining against his boxers, wet with pre-cum because I’d forbidden him to touch himself. I’d been so fucking brave behind the safety of my screen.

But here, in person, with his physical presence overwhelming all my senses, I felt my courage faltering. What if the real me didn’t match up to the online version he’d fantasized about? What if I couldn’t live up to the image of a domme he had of me?

Ryker snapped the toolbox shut, the sound jolting me from my spiral of insecurity. He leaned back against the wall, looking up at me with a crooked smile that made my heart race.

“Now what?”

he asked simply, the question hanging in the air between us like an invitation.

Maybe it was the way he was looking at me—like I was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen. Maybe it was the memory of all those nights we’d spent talking, sharing our deepest secrets, our darkest desires.

Whatever it was, something snapped inside me. I was tired of being afraid, tired of hiding behind screens and carefully constructed personas. I wanted him. I wanted Kiaan. I wanted to stop overthinking every fucking interaction and just feel.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I moved forward, dropping to my knees and climbing into his lap, straddling his thick thighs. His hands immediately went to my hips, steadying me, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Sky—”

he started, but I cut him off, pressing my mouth to his.

For one terrifying second, he didn’t respond, and I thought I’d made a horrible mistake. Then his hands tightened on my hips, and he was kissing me back, hot and deep and desperate. He tasted like coffee and honey, and I moaned into his mouth as his tongue slid against mine.

His hands slid up my back, pulling me closer until my breasts pressed against his chest. I tangled my fingers in his hair, tugging slightly the way I’d always imagined doing, and was rewarded with a groan that vibrated through his entire body.

“Fuck, Sky,”

he gasped against my mouth.

“Baby. Wanted this so much.”

I rocked against him, feeling the hard length of him pressing against me through our clothes. “Me too,”

I admitted, breathless.

“So fucking much.”

He captured my mouth again, one large hand sliding under my t-shirt to palm my breast, thumb brushing over my nipple through my bra. The sensation sent sparks shooting down my spine, and I arched into his touch, grinding down against the impressive bulge in his jeans.

We were so lost in each other that neither of us heard the bathroom door open. It wasn’t until a throat cleared loudly that we broke apart, both of us turning to see Kiaan standing in the doorway, his face a carefully controlled mask.

“Sorry to interrupt,”

he said, his voice flat.

“I didn’t realize the bathroom was... occupied.”

My stomach dropped, guilt washing over me in a cold wave. This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen. I couldn’t hurt either one of them like this.

“Fuck,”

I whispered, scrambling off Ryker’s lap, stomach churning with guilt.

“I fucked up. I always fuck up with you two.”

Ryker’s hand shot out, catching my chin gently but firmly, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t fuck anything up,”

he said, his voice calm and certain.

“I’ve got this handled.”

He stood, helping me to my feet with a steadying hand. Then, to my complete surprise, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead.

“Thank you for the kiss,”

he said, his voice warm.

“That was sexy as hell. I’ll talk to him.”

Before I could respond, he was walking past me, following Kiaan, who had already bolted outside.