Page 4

Mitch's words linger in the air, thick and suffocating.

He wants both of us…at the same time?

Competing for Mitch’s time outside the bedroom was enough to have me contemplate running for the hills. The idea of competing for his attention in the bedroom, at the same time, is appalling.

“Wait,” Ian interjects, and I’m over the moon for him to be the one to take the lead in stopping this before it gets too far. “How would we both be inside of you?” he asks, lost in thought, and my head snaps in his direction. He can’t be fucking serious. “Like, I understand my part, but like, how would she be inside you ?” he adds, clearly more concerned about the logistics of Mitch’s drunk rambling than the actual request itself.

“Seriously,” I scoff, my voice laced with disbelief. “Logistics is the last thing on my mind right now,” I add, trying to bring Ian back to the reality of Mitch’s demands.

My heart breaks with the thought of letting Mitch down, especially after a week of blowing him off–and not the way he prefers to be blown. I turn my full attention back to Mitch, as I’m clearly the only level-headed person here, and I caress both of Mitch’s hands in mine.

“Mitch, Honey…I love you, but I don’t think—”

“You what?” Ian chokes out next to me, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

“Yeah, you what?” Mitch repeats, pulling on my wrists to bring me closer to him.

My eyes widen as I open my mouth to deny it, but the thought of lying causes the words to stick in my throat. Panic explodes in my chest as Mitch’s body presses against mine, caging me against the kitchen counter.

Never in my life have I muttered those words out loud to anyone. How those three words left my lips so effortlessly is just as beautiful as it is terrifying.

“You love me?” Mitch asks when I don’t answer.

The corners of his lips perk up, and a spark of cautious hope overcomes me. I take a deep breath and clench my fists into nervous balls, my nails digging into my palms. I open and close my mouth without a single word reaching my lips.

What the fuck should I even say? I didn’t even know I was in love with him until now, but I feel the undeniable current—powerful, consuming, and far too deep to be mistaken for anything else. It's overwhelming, this sudden awareness, and I curse myself for being so blind.

Only I can look at a great lake and call it a pond.

In a panic, I look over at the front door, gauging the distance. If I booked it right now, would he follow? I could get to my car in less than a minute, no problem, and in Mitch’s drunken state, there is no way he’d be able to catch up.

“Hey, dumbass,” Mitch says, moving a hand to my chin and tilting my head back to him so that our eyes meet. “I love you too.”

The music, the laughter, andthe steady buzz of conversation all fall silent around me as his words sink in. I knew I was deprived of affection, but the way those three words punch me in the gut is pathetic.

“You do?” I ask like an idiot.

Pa-the-tic .

His grin grows wider, his breath fanning over my face, warm and inviting. “Of course I do. This was the worst week of my life. Roxy, I thought I lost you.”

I swallow hard as he moves in for another kiss. Not as deep and probing as the last, but soft, gentle, and all-consuming. I can feel the tension leave my body as he pulls away, his hand lingering on my chin.

His eyes are glazed over with a sheen of alcoholic euphoria, but they’re soft and so incredibly him. He glances from me to Ian and shakes his head with a renewed smile. “Don’t look at me like that, you little shit. You know I love you too.” He snakes his hand around Ian’s neck and brings him to his lips with the same passion, need, and desire he brought to mine.

The tension in my body starts to build again as I watch them kiss, but not where I expect it. It pools low and dangerous as I watch it deepen. Their chemistry is undeniable, and a wave of pure jealousy crashes into me, brutal and breathtaking.

I want what they have more than I’ve wanted anything before. I'm desperate for a connection with someone so palpable that the entire room can feel the vibrations of our energy in the air.

Mitch slowly pulls away from Ian, closing his eyes and licking his lips, which pulls into another smile.

“Just hear me out,” he says slowly. His eyes are still closed, but the words feel directed toward me. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I’m not usually so fucking selfish, but I want you both.” An undertone of sadness creeps into his words with a stealth I don’t expect. “I need you both.”

Mitch steps closer to us, his head sandwiched between ours, so close to our ears that we are guaranteed to be the only souls to hear him speak.

“Just imagine it,” he says, thick with lust, tilting his mouth toward Ian, but I can still hear every word with perfect clarity. “There is no doubt in my mind that she’ll be able to handle you better than I can.” I swallow hard at the insinuation of me handling any part of Ian. “Roxy sucks dick like a fucking goddess. She’ll take all of you and more.”

“Mitch!” I blush, but he ignores my protests and continues with a voice so confident even I believe him, “She tastes so fucking sweet you’ll want to smother yourself in her pussy.” A husk of arousal edges his voice.

“Jesus!” I bury my head on Mitch’s shoulder. My cheeks burning with bashfulness. I shift between my feet, trying to alleviate the ache that builds between my legs again. Seeing him so dominant in front of someone else, especially Ian, was not on my yearly bingo card.

“What?” he laughs, turning toward me. “I would happily die between your thighs,” he breathes in my ear, and the heat from his breath ricochets straight down between those thighs. I can practically feel my panties dampening by the second.

“My guy over here,” he says, jerking his head towards Ian, but keeps his lips at my ear. “Girth.”

“Girth?” I repeat, lifting my head and quirking an eyebrow. Death by pussy was the selling point for Ian, but all I get is… Girth?

“Thickest cock I’ve ever had in or around me.” Mitch’s voice drops into a low growl. His thumb, as well as his gaze, slides across my bottom lip. “I want to watch this perfect mouth of yours choke him down inch by inch.”

Holy wet panties, batman.

My breath catches in my throat as Mitch’s true desires come to light, even after all this time. “You’re seriously still trying to hook me up with Ian?” I ask, confused.

Mitch nods, peppering kisses up my jaw to the tender flesh of my neck just under my ear. “I share everything I love with Ian,” he whispers, and it hits all the wrong places that feel so right.

When Mitch said he wanted both of us, my mind immediately went to a cage fight between Ian and I for who got to have a turn with Mitch’s cock. I never thought that Ian’s cock would also be an option for me . I open my mouth to protest, but his lips cut me off. Short and sweetwith just enough pressure to effectively shut me up.

“Before you say no,” he says, pulling away slightly. “Humor me.”

Mitch locks eyes with Ian as if it’s their own personal language, and Ian knows precisely what Mitch is thinking. However, the look on Ian’s face is apprehensive at best.

Mitch takes a small step back, his hands sliding up my spine to the nape of my neck, pushing me closer to Ian. It’s a slow, deliberate movement, not meant to force us together but to keep me from backing down so easily.

This slow calculation is precisely how he operates in the bedroom. The level of control he wields is not one that forces himself on me. It’s having me willingly give myself to him so he can use me as he pleases. He wants this kiss to be our decision and only influenced by him, not forced.

My eyes lock with Ian’s, trying to decipher his stance on this new revelation. My stomach flips at the thought of Ian kissing me the way he kisses Mitch, but it’s not because I want Ian to kiss me or anything. I push back against my crumbling resolve, knowing that it’s only going to wind up hurting me in the end if I let myself be reckless just to please Mitch.

Is one night of subjective fun worth a lifetime of possible regret? It’s not that I’m not attracted to Ian. He’s just as gorgeous as Mitch, but there are too many layers to unpack. A history that can’t be ignored.

Being this close, I can smell Ian’s sweet cologne, and it clouds my judgment, if only for a moment. My eyes drop to his lips, and I decide it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to kiss Ian Summers.

Ian’s eyes rip from me to Mitch. His brows crease, and his head shakes. “Mitch, stop,” he pleads.

The room stills for a second time tonight as all the air leaves my lungs. Of course, Ian doesn’t want to kiss me. Even in the context of making Mitch happy. I mean, why would he? He hasn’t given me any indication that he is remotely interested in this happening, so why does his rejection suddenly bother me so much?

“Just one kiss to shut me up,” Mitch begs. “Prove this can’t work, and I’ll never bring it up again.” Mitch requests, locking desperate eyes on Ian.

One kiss. One kiss, and we’ll show Mitch it’s not a possibility. That way, Ian and I can go on our separate ways fucking Mitch silly on our own until he inevitably chooses a real relationship with Ian and kicks me to the curb.

As if he could read my thoughts, Ian’s look shifts from apprehension to concern as his eyes find mine again. "You don’t have to do this,” he says.

“Shut up,” I hiss and take the lead to lean in toward him.

Ian’s eyes widen as the distance between us shrinks to barely an inch, but my movement is cut short by a burst of shattering glass across the apartment. Every head in the area snaps toward the direction of the commotion, breaking our almost kiss.

“Sorry, Mitch!” A slurred voice draws out from across the room.

“Fuck,” Mitch groans, his hand squeezing the back of my neck. “Don’t go anywhere,” he barks at both of us and wanders off to check the damage.

I bring my attention back to Ianand find thathe’s already put a few feet of distance between us. It shouldn’t feel like a slap in the face, but it does. Honestly, this feeling would be easier to manage if Ian had actually hit me. Then I could point to my swollen cheek and know that is where the pain is coming from. Instead, I’m left with this lump in my throat and a rejection in my chest and nothing to point to that would easily explain why I’m feeling this fucking horrible.

I love Mitch, but I also fucking hate his guts for planting these intrusive feelings inside of me against my will. It’s hard enough pining for a man I know is too good for me, let alone developing a rush of unwanted and unwarranted urges for his best friend, who despises me as much as I despise myself.

I never asked for this, yet here I am, carrying a heart heavier than I deserve.