Page 8 of Never Dance with the Devils (Never Say Never #6)

I grin into Riggs’s kiss, opening my eyes to find that Maddox has come all over his hand and is already wiping off on a towel I never saw him get.

I look from one man to the other, the gravity of what we’ve just done sinking in. I wait for the shame, the horror, the disappointment in myself to come, but it… doesn’t. I just feel… what is this sensation in my chest?

Happy. I think it’s happiness.

Odd, I haven’t felt that for a long time.

Riggs slips out of me and gets off to give me space.

I excuse myself to the bathroom to clean up despite both men saying they’ll help me, and I stare at my reflection in the mirror.

“Kayla Anne Harrington,” I whisper, my hand pressed to my mouth, tracing the smile that refuses to go away, “you are such a slut.”

But the word isn’t said with any ill will.

It actually sends a thrill through me again.

Maybe I should tell Maddox to call me that instead of good girl and see what my body does then?

I think he would absolutely be willing to participate in that experiment.

My smile grows exponentially and I have to bite my lip to quiet a laugh at the idea.

When I go back out to the guys, expecting them to be rushing me out the door, I instead find they’ve ordered Chinese food to be delivered and have fluffed the pillows on the king-size bed for me to take my place between them.

I wake up slowly, feeling warm and snuggled between two brick walls. But with a breath, last night comes back to me in a rush and though my eyes fly open, I keep my body still. Riggs and Maddox are sprawled out on either side of me, sleeping the deep, hard sleep of the totally satisfied.

After I returned to the bed last night, we’d eaten our delivered food and talked for hours, about everything and nothing.

It’d been easy and comfortable, and for the first time ever, I’d felt like I didn’t have to live up to any expectations of who or what I am. To Riggs and Maddox, I was simply Kay.

Kay was me, but also… not. She’s simpler, easier, lighter, less bogged down in schedules and routine, and not nearly as Type A as I am.

She doesn’t spend her days and nights focused on ticking to-do items off her lists, caring about others, and planning for the future.

She’s a ‘live in the moment’ sort, and I’d enjoyed doing just that.

I’d been careful to not reveal too much of my family history, even though we’d talked about how being the only girl in a family full of brothers made life hard sometimes, and how I’m dedicated to my work.

They’d understood, saying they have to work hard too, though they’d sidestepped any discussion of what they actually do, and I’d respected that, wanting the same.

Still, in the hours of chit chat, I felt like I got a good sense of who they are, individually and together.

Riggs is serious and quiet, and when he deems something worthy enough to express, it’s assuredly from a deep, dark well of thought.

Maddox is more light-hearted and fun, the sort to chase adventures and experiences, of which I was assured I was with a comically animated wink.

And their friendship felt nuanced and real, even though their shit-talking reminded me of my brothers at times—love expressed through insults.

The ability to be myself was freeing too.

Usually, I’m The BITCH—Boss In Total Control of Herself, and honestly, everything else too.

I fill in the gap of my parents with my brothers, manage countless contracts at work, and rarely have a moment to myself to just…

be . I didn’t even know the desire was there, but a chance to be wild, carefree, and reckless had felt so good, and one anonymous night had felt like the right time to embrace those things, like the greatest opportunity for self-care I’ve ever had—physically, mentally, and emotionally.

It was like we were living in this perfect little bubble where life was fun.

But now, the bubble has popped and I need to leave.

Unable to get out on either side, I scoot down the bed, climbing out that way.

I slip my clothes on, holding my heels in my hand, and look back at the two men who are snoring lightly.

A part of me wants to climb right back into the bed, curl up with them, and see if they want to have breakfast together before going our separate ways.

But it’ll only delay the inevitable. I have a life to get back to, one where Ian McCormick is going to realize his mistake and call for another chance at the contract with Blue Lake, one where my sisters-in-law are waiting for me to come home for Girls’ Night In at Samantha’s, one where I have responsibilities to fulfill and expectations to exceed.

Still, I pause. Seeing a notepad on the desk, I scribble a quick note.

Thank you.—K.

I stare at it for a moment, knowing it feels too cold.

It’s like something I’d leave for my assistant after she made hard-to-get dinner reservations for me.

Deciding quickly, I reach into my bag and coat my lips in red lipstick before pressing them to the paper twice, leaving a print for each man.

It’s not nearly enough, but it’ll have to do.

I lay it on the nightstand and silently slip out the door. Once in the hall, I put my heels on and stride to the elevator. Head held high and back straight, I walk through the lobby and out into the sunshine of the cool spring morning.

“May I help you get a car, ma’am?” the valet asks, his face professionally stoic and showing no sign of judgment over my walk of shame. Not that I’m feeling any. I don’t do the walk of shame. I strut. I feel sore in the best possible way and freer than I’ve ever felt.

“Yes.”

A moment later, I’m being whisked back to my hotel, where I’ll gather my things and go back to my life. Alone.