Page 24

RILEY

“Come over,” the text reads. “I need to see you. ”

It’s the need that gets me. Hayes could have said ‘want’ or even ‘I’d like to see you’. There’s a demandingness in the order and a softness in the plea. Maybe I’m reading too much into it. Since Monday night, I’ve been a hot mess.

When I think of Hayes’ face between my legs, bringing me to the most delicious orgasm, it’s tangled up with Shawn’s smiling eyes watching and Jacob’s hand pumping. It’s mixed with Hayes’ greedy sounds, Shawn’s laughter, and Jacob’s hand in mine and the pained sounds he made while he was sleeping next to me.

I slept next to Jacob Drayton and he held my frickin’ hand. He kept a respectful distance and cradled my hand like it was precious, or maybe he needed the comfort. Either way, it’s hard to reconcile the gesture with the Jacob I know.

Between my legs, I’ve been a hot mess.

I don’t know how it’s possible to crave something you’ve never experienced as hard as I crave sex with Hayes. If I’m honest with myself, though, it’s hard to imagine sex with him without his brothers creeping into my thoughts, too. I’m an idiot—a twisted, crazy person. No rational woman would want one, let alone three of her asshole ex-stepbrothers.

“I have classes,” I reply.

“After?”

It’s the question mark that finally pushes me over the edge. It’s not just a request—it’s like an acknowledgment I have a choice in the matter. And technically, I do. But realistically? I don’t. The need to be in his company again is too overwhelming, drawing me like a magnetic force.

I have to find out what happened. What caused the on-ice scuffle Imani mentioned over pizza, the details relayed by her brother. The Draytons don’t fight. Ever. They’re like three parts of the same whole, perfectly synchronized even off the ice. They even chose different playing positions as if they were avoiding any chance of direct competition.

“Riley, are you with us?”

The sharp voice of my media professor cuts through my spiraling thoughts, yanking me back to the present. The weight of the room’s collective gaze settles on me, and I flush the color of a stop sign.

“Uh, yes,” I stammer, though it’s painfully obvious I haven’t been paying attention. My professor raises an eyebrow, unconvinced, but mercifully moves on.

I exhale slowly, trying to steady myself. Whatever this is—this hold the Draytons have on me—it’s becoming impossible to ignore.

Imani nudges my foot beneath the table, and after a minute, when Professor Shaw has moved to the other side of the lecture hall, she whispers. “What’s with you? You’re away with the fairies!”

“I’m fine,” I murmur, scribbling notes so I won’t get called out again.

“I don’t believe you.”

She’s right not to. I haven’t been myself for days, tangled up in threads from the past that are reaching into the future. Trying to stay focused on my goals when the pull to just lose myself in extracurriculars is gravitational times one hundred!

After class, Professor Shaw pauses in front of me. “Riley, can I see you for a minute?”

I pause with my laptop half in my bag, staring up at his bearded face and watery green eyes. He must have been a hottie thirty years ago, and even now, there’s a certain magnetism about Professor Shaw, or as the women in the class call him, the bear.

“Yes. Sure.” I glance at Imani, who raises her eyebrows, as uncertain about what this is about as I am.

When the lecture hall is empty, I approach the desk at the front of the class, and Professor Bear slides a sheet of paper over to me. “Each semester, we ask a student from this course to assist the faculty with social media. The student is selected at random for fairness, as the exposure and experience can be very beneficial. The student for this semester has had to drop out due to health concerns and you’ve been chosen to replace them. Is this something you’d be interested in?”

“Yes,” I blurt, without asking a single question. It could be unpaid, long hours, or grueling work, and I still jump at the chance.

“Great. You’ll be working with social media professionals and other students to come up with content that promotes the faculty, course, lectures, faculty projects, event management, alumni stories, career-related opportunities…” He trails off but then thinks of some more. “Behind-the-scenes, day-in-the-life… you know… relatable content. Your youth and student position will give a fresh and relevant perspective to the work. At least, that’s why they take the student interns, plus cheap labor, and of course, the experience you’ll benefit from.”

“Okay. Great.” Cheap labor comments aside, I’m excited!

“Fantastic. Here are the details. Can you give Vanessa a call? Her number is in the information pack. She’ll get you set up with a schedule that works around your current commitments.”

“Alrighty!” I take the pack, hardly believing what’s falling in my lap. It’s a dream come true. Something credible I’ll be able to put at the top of my resume. A stepping stone towards a future role. I practically skip out of the door.

Outside, Imani grabs my arm, taking me by surprise. “What did he say?”

“I’ve been chosen for a social media placement.”

“Yay. That’s so awesome, sweetie.” She pulls me into a jasmine-scented hug. “I thought he was going to rail you for zoning out in class, which wouldn’t have been fair because half of us are asleep in there at any time.”

“It’s my favorite class,” I say. “I’m usually really focused.”

“So, what’s got you unfocused?”

A passing dude with massive shoulders barges me enough that I stumble. I glance around the sterile hallway teaming with people and confirm this isn’t the place to confide anything.

“Let’s grab a coffee,” I say. “It might help me wake up, and I’ll tell you what’s been going on.”

***

“He did WHAT?” Imani’s almond eyes bug out as she grabs my arm in shock.

I cup my hand around my mouth. “Masturbated,” I whisper. “In front of me.”

“And you watched?” She fans herself with her free hand. “Damn, girl! Do you know how much people would pay to get a look at that memory reel?”

“I told him to come on himself. I talked to him while he was doing it.”

She slaps my arm lightly. “You, Riley Johnstone, are a dark horse. Dirty talking a hockey player while his brothers are upstairs!”

“It wasn’t dirty talk.” I rub the back of my neck, remembering how easily the words had slipped out of my mouth. “It was pity talk. He was hurting… he needed to…” I trail off, but Imani doesn’t leave it there.

“He needed to ejaculate over his fabulous abs while you were watching? Yeah, there’s something oozing from that situation, but it isn’t pity.”

“Firstly, gross! And you didn’t see him,” I say. “He was really bad.”

“So, Hayes has invited you over. Do you think he knows?”

I hide my face in my palms, cringing that he might. “They’re brothers. More than that… they’re triplets,” I groan.

“Doesn’t mean a thing,” she says. “You think I tell Malik who I’m banging?”

“Err… who are you banging?” I ask.

“Calian, from the football team.”

I mentally sort through the guys I know who play football. “The native dude with the long glossy hair?” I ask.

She nods, sipping her hot chocolate with whipped cream. “He’s so fucking good in bed, Riley. I mean, not just the athletic stamina thing, although he can go on for a crazy amount of time, but we have this connection. He looks into my eyes when he fucks me. He won’t let me look away. I didn’t know sex could be that deep and…” She waves her hand, searching for a way to finish the sentence. “Hooky. Like, our eye contact reaches deep.”

“Sounds intense.”

“It is. It really is. But we don’t go on dates. We don’t hook up for coffee… we just hook up.”

“Are you happy with that?”

“I think so. I don’t know. It’s like we have this spiritual connection. It’s not going to last, but for the time being, when we cross paths, our connection takes us on a wild ride!” Her eyes do a strange rolling thing that reminds me of The Exorcist , and I smirk. At least one of us is having some uncomplicated fun times.

Me?

Not so uncomplicated!

***

Riley - Are you home?

Hayes - Yes. Are you coming now?

Hayes’ text pings just as I pull up in front of the Drayton brothers’ house. The temptation to reply Not yet, but I will when I get there is strong—so strong—but I manage to resist. With no idea what I’m walking into, it’s not the right time to start throwing suggestive grenades into the mix.

Instead, I type a simple, boring ‘Yes.’

Then I sit in my car for a full minute, staring at the door like it might spontaneously disappear, and I’ll be saved. My mind races through every possible scenario: Hayes being sweet and pulling me inside; Hayes being angry about what happened with Jacob; all of them ambushing me with questions, and worse, them saying it was all a joke, just a game to see how far I’d let them pull me along.

That last thought stings so much that I wince and then flush with shame. Do I really believe they’d be capable of it? And if so, how have I allowed myself to get so drawn in?

I’m weak, that’s how. For all my anger and resentment towards the Draytons at the start of the semester, they’ve wormed their way under my skin. Even Jacob, with his rudeness and prickliness, has shown me a little of his soft underbelly. And his rock-hard abs.

Damn.

I take a few deep breaths to prepare myself and check my make-up, finding it’s held up pretty well over the day. I pop a mint into my mouth, hoping that all the bad scenarios are only in my head and that Hayes will be happy I came. Then I take my time to walk to the front door, braced to knock when it flies open.

“Riley,” Shawn drawls, leaning casually against the doorframe. He’s shirtless, wearing low-slung jeans that are doing the Lord’s work, barely hanging onto his hips. His abs are fully on display, the sharp V of his muscles dipping into the low waistband of his jeans, every ridge and hollow highlighted by the golden light of the setting sun. He knows exactly how good he looks, and the tattoo on his chest only adds to it, leaving my mouth dry and my thoughts scrambling.

I blink, startled, and his eyes dance, taking in every one of my reactions: my appreciation, my lust, my fear, my uncertainty.

“Where’s Hayes?” I ask, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

He grins, slow and easy. “Upstairs. He’ll be down in a…”

Before Shawn can finish, heavy footsteps thud on the stairs, and Hayes appears, his expression guarded. His warm smile is replaced by a tense jaw and darting eyes that flick between me and his half-naked brother.

“Put a fucking shirt on, man,” Hayes grumbles.

Shawn runs a lazy hand over his abs, and my traitorous eyes follow the movement before I can stop myself.

“What for? Riley doesn’t mind.”

“Riley does mind,” I snap as my face heats.

“Hard to concentrate in the face of all this…” He waves his hand vaguely over his torso.

“...arrogance,” I finish.

Hayes snorts, but Shawn remains undeterred. “I prefer perfection, but you do you.”

I let out a frustrated huff and glance at Hayes, who reaches for my hand. The second his warm fingers wrap around mine, relief washes over me. He’s not mad, but something is going on. The air is thick with it. He pulls me past Shawn, who’s still grinning and shirtless, and into the den.

Jacob is stretched out in a chair, one ankle propped on his knees and his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are closed, but as soon as I walk in, he speaks.

“Riley.”

“You know, it’s kind of standard etiquette to open your eyes when you greet a guest,” I say.

He cracks one eye open, and his smirk is as lazy as his posture. “It’s kind of, or it is?”

“ It is , smartass.”

Jacob chuckles, but the tightness at the edge of his expression doesn’t escape me. He looks sick, like the last time I saw him. Does he have another headache? If he does, maybe I should tell him to go to the doctor. Every time I woke him last night, his bleary-eyed expression and low moans cut through me again. Despite his size and intensity, he seemed so helpless.

Hayes lets go of my hand, stepping back but staying close. “Take a seat,” he says, motioning toward the couch.

I hesitate as memories of what we did on this couch flash through my mind like a highlight reel. His hands, his mouth—

Shawn clears his throat, and I nearly jump out of my skin, finding him pulling a red t-shirt over his head. Somehow, the act of dressing is even more erotic than his previous shirtlessness.

“Right.” I drop into the corner of the couch, curling up against the armrest like it might protect me from whatever is brewing in this house.

Hayes remains standing, shoving his hands into the pockets of his black sweats. Shawn flops onto the opposite corner of the couch, his casual sprawl so different from Hayes’ rigid posture. Jacob remains motionless and unreadable. And inside, my guts twist like they’re trying to ring out all my anxiety and failing.

I bite my lip and focus on Hayes, who seems bigger and gruffer than he did the day before. He has a small new bruise on his cheek, and the one on his neck has yellowed. His beard has grown, setting him apart from his clean-shaven brothers.

The static in the room is almost palpable.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

Jacob smirks again, and Hayes shifts on his feet, widening his stance as though he needs more traction to keep himself upright.

“You tell us, Riley.” I stare at Jacob’s relaxed face. With his eyelids closed, his eyelashes make his rugged face almost pretty. Almost like a sleeping angel.

“What do you mean?”

“You like Hayes, right?” Jacob asks. “Enough to let him—”

“Can we not?” Hayes glares at his brother, but Jacob can’t see his warning.

“What? I’m just saying it’s clear that she likes you, which is cute, by the way.”

Hayes’ expression darkens even further. “Cute?”

“But,” Jacob continues, opening his eyes. “There’s a little problem with it.”

“With me liking Hayes?” I ask, my stomach twisting.

Jacob nods, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah. Because you don’t just like Hayes, do you?”

The air in the room is heavy and charged. I glance at Hayes, who’s staring at the floor like it might open up and swallow him whole. Shawn’s grin has softened into something quieter, almost thoughtful.

“I don’t—”

“Don’t lie,” Jacob says, his voice gentle but firm. “You don’t just like Hayes. And you don’t just like me, either. Or Shawn.”

My heart skips a beat, my pulse roaring in my ears.

“I don’t like you at all, Jacob,” I say. “In fact, I think you’re a massive ass.” He smirks, but doesn’t argue because even to me, my argument sounds hollow. “This is crazy,” I murmur, shaking my head.

“Is it?” Shawn says, leaning back and resting his arm on the back of the couch. “Because it makes sense to me. You like all of us, and we all like you .”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t—”

“You don’t have to choose,” Hayes says suddenly, his voice low but steady. When I look at him, his eyes are softer now, full of something that’s hard to define.

My mind skitters and then catches up. “What?”

“You don’t have to choose,” he repeats. “We’ve talked about it, and... We don’t want you to feel like you have to pick one of us. That’s not fair to you. Or to us.”

I blink at him, Jacob, and Shawn in turn, trying to piece together what they’re saying and coming up blank, so I have to ask, even though I fear the response. “What are you saying?”

“We share,” Jacob says, his tone calm, like he’s explaining a play during a timeout or trying to school a toddler on what constitutes good behavior. Sharing is caring, Riley. Don’t you know that?

“This is insane,” I whisper, though the words continue to lack conviction. These men could have anyone. In fact, they’ve had almost everyone, but not together like this. Why me? Why this? Why now?

“Maybe,” Jacob admits, shrugging. “But it’s also honest.”

Shawn nods, his grin returning. “And if anyone can handle it, it’s you.”

I stare at them, my emotions a tangled mess of shock, confusion, and—God help me—curiosity. “Me? What are you trying to say?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Hayes says, sweeping a hand over his shorn hair. “This isn’t how to do this.”

“Oh, and you’re such an expert on seduction.”

Seduction. The word in this context makes me choke. “Is that what you’re trying to do right now? Seduce me?”

“Maybe proposition would be a better word.” Jacob opens his eyes fully for the first time since I arrived, blinking them a few times. Then he fixes on me with his intense, unfathomable gaze, shifting forward in his seat until he’s braced, elbows on knees, for a serious conversation.

“We’re not asking for an answer right now,” Hayes says gently.

“An answer?” I rub my mouth, then notice all the Drayton’s watching me intently, making me conscious of every move. Is my body language saying something different to my words? I drop my hand into my lap.

“We could make you feel so good,” Shawn practically purrs, and I shift in my seat as my clit fires to life. Jesus. He can do that with just seven words, flicking his silver tongue.

Hayes looks like he wishes the floor would swallow him up, but he manages to squeeze out something to temper Shawn’s sexual suggestiveness. “Just... think about it. That’s all.”

The room goes quiet, and I can’t breathe. Every cell in my body is in stasis, the very idea of saying yes trapping me mentally and physically on an alternative plane.

What are they even talking about?

Sex, Riley. They’re talking about sex. Group sex. Hot group sex with three hockey gods who just happened to know you before you lost the frizzy hair and dowdy clothes. Before you blossomed.

I focus on each of them in turn, finding Jacob with his chin propped on his fist like ‘the thinker,’ Shawn still nursing a happy sex-infused smirk, and Hayes so concerned, his brow needs ironing with maximum steam.

And me.

I’m the color of a tomato, and I’m sweating, which isn’t the most attractive look for a woman contemplating the kind of epic sex arrangement that is usually only found in books.

The episode of Icing the Cake , where I talked about hockey players passing women around, resurfaces, and I blanch.

“I think you guys have been hitting the hay.”

“No drugs in this house. Our bodies are temples.” Shawn tugs his shirt up to illustrate and ripples his abs for maximum impact.

I think I drool a little. Oh god. My tongue has expanded to fill my mouth like a dishcloth that’s soaked up too much water and needs wringing out.

“Riley?” Hayes approaches and drops to his haunches in front of me. His hand hovers above my thigh for a second, judging my reaction, then rests hot and heavy over my jeans. “If this is too much?”

“It’s a lot.” I hold his gaze, cocooned safely in the ocean swell of his eyes and anchored by his fingers, which squeeze reassuringly.

“If it’s a no, then that’s okay.”

“It is?”

“Of course.”

“And we’d go back to what we were…”

His eyes dart to Shawn and then back to me, and that one motion tells me what I already knew. They want what they want. They won’t let jealousy over me come between them.

I’ve entered a parallel universe where curvy baking enthusiasts gather a harem of elite, sexy hockey players on the brink of pro-careers with barely any effort.

A burst of laughter escapes my lips, and I cover my mouth with my hand as Hayes tips his head to one side.

“Riley,” Jacob says smoothly, his voice like warm caramel. “We’re looking for a girl to bring us together.”

“Together?” I clear the frog from my throat. “For sex? Is it so hard to find a girl each? I mean, this is sounding really lazy.”

“Not just for sex,” he says slowly, patiently.

I gulp. So they want me to believe that this isn’t just seduction. They’re not just bored with the effort it takes to seduce women. It’s about more. A relationship?

“Come on… you can’t seriously expect me to—” Hayes cover my mouth with his finger effectively silencing me.

“This isn’t about sex, Riley—”

“Although, it would be nice,” Shawn interrupts.

Patiently, Hayes continues. “It’s important for us to be together… so we don’t allow anyone else to come between us. We’ve lost a lot. We need an anchor and that person is you, if you want it to be?”

Do I? Could I do that? Be something so pivotal in anyone’s life. I’m not exactly experienced at life. A few dates and some awkward fumbling hasn’t exactly prepared me for life. I’m a virgin, for fucks sake. What if I don’t measure up to their expectations? They have experience. A lot of experience. They’ll find me boring. They’ll discover I’m an imposter. Nothing about me has really changed in the last eight years. I’m just the same girl who used to want them to like me, except now, I have a secret, and if they discover it, I won’t be their anchor. I’ll be the stone in their shoe, the dagger in their backs.

For the first time, I wish I’d never made the Icing the Cake episodes about them. Revenge isn’t sweet. It’s sour and laced with bitter regret and a flutter of panic that whips over me like a snap of cold breeze.

I should tell them. They’ll realize I’m not right for them. They’ll want another girl who knows her way around men’s bodies enough to take three of them at once. They should find someone who has enough experience to navigate such a complicated situation.

“This sounds great,” I say. “And I’m sure there are lots of other women out there that would be hyped for your offer. I mean… seriously hyped. But don’t think I’m qualified. I’m lacking the necessary experience. It’s outside of my skill set.”

Jacob and Shawn exchange knowing glances, like I’ve confirmed something they’ve discussed.

“Are you a virgin, Riley?” Jacob’s question is asked softly, but his eyes are intense, blue fire.

“Technically.” Sweat trickles down my back as the heat of their gazes turns molten.

“So am I,” Hayes admits.

What? He can’t be. But his expression is earnest in a way that touches me deeply, and he cups my face tenderly. Rather than laughing, as I would have expected, Jacob and Shawn don’t make a sound. Hayes strokes my cheek with his thumb and brushes a stray lock of my hair away from my face like he wants an uninterrupted view of me.

Me.

Nervous me. Trembling me. A me who never believed this could happen and who hated the boys these men once were.

I touch the skin below his bruise, as the intensity of our eye contact makes everything heavy but fragile-feeling. When he leans forward to kiss me, I melt into the softness of his lips and the gentle tug of his hand around the back of my neck. I forget that we’re being watched, and we kiss like we’re trying to communicate all the things that our hearts want to speak, but our mouths are too unskilled to formulate. I lose myself in his tenderness until Shawn’s voice breaks through. “That’s it,” he murmurs. “Perfect.”

“Perfect,” Jacob echoes.

And if I didn’t know before, I know at this moment.

I want this: Hayes’ softness, Shawn’s humor, Jacob’s toughness: their hands, their mouths, their eyes on me and only me.

I want it all.

And in facing that fact and accepting it, I realize I don’t know myself at all.