Page 161 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

After she leaves the room, Rhett turns to Oliver.

“The way she looks at us.” It’s an acknowledgment of something, but I’m not sure what. Doesn’t matter—it sounds like it’s between the two of them.

Oliver smiles up at him. “Yeah?”

Rhett stares at the floor. “You were right.”

Gently, Oliver takes Rhett’s hand in his. He brings it to his lips, kissing each knuckle reverently. “I know it’s hard for you. I’d never pretend it’s not. But you can trust this. I promise it’s safe to.”

The wave of emotions that crosses over Rhett’s face takes me aback. He usually keeps his facial expressions under lock and key, but right now, I can see everything.

“Thank you,” he mutters, pulling Oliver into a kiss. Then, “I’ll be back soon. I love you both.”

We both stand in stunned silence as Rhett disappears through the doorway. I can’t remember the last time I heard those words from his mouth. Not that I’m complaining, and not that I don’t know. I just wasn’t expecting it.

“He’s okay, right?” I ask.

“Yeah,” Oliver replies. Then he smiles. “Maybe even a little better.”

***

When Rhett gets back, it’s been an hour and a half, but we haven’t left the living room. I’m on the couch in front of the lit fireplace, and Oliver is sprawled out with his head in my lap, snoring softly.

Quietly, Rhett grabs the blanket from the back of the couch and places it over Oliver’s body. Then he kisses me on the forehead, his lips lingering against my skin. When our gazes meet, it’s only for a split second before he turns away, but it’s still enough to catch the glimmer of guilt in his eyes.

Rhett hasn’t always had insomnia. It started the year after Sammy was killed, and it’s come and gone ever since. It’s worrisome, and it’s one of the many reasons I’m looking forward to putting Ludo behind us. I can’t help but hope that once we’ve avenged Sammy’s murder, it’ll give Rhett some of the peace he needs. I also can’t help but worry that it won’t help, and Rhett will forever be stuck in the endless cycle of pain, grief, and anger that he’s been in for the past decade.

“He understands,” I remind him, stroking a hand down Oliver’s arm. He’s stopped snoring, but based on his breathing pattern, he’s still out.

Rhett watches us both, the light from the fireplace casting half of him in warmth and the other half in shadow. Then he shakes his head. “He shouldn’t have to miss a person he lives with. I should’ve waited until tonight to get some sleep.”

“He’d rather you get the rest. God knows you need it.”

“Well,Iwould rather have more time with the people who mean the most to me.”

“If we’re talking about what we want,” Oliver mutters sleepily, “I’d love for you to fuck me.”

I snort, and Rhett rolls his eyes.

“But,” Oliver continues, “if we’re talking about the grander scheme of things, I can start staying up later to see you more.”

“No,” Rhett says. “Sleep is important, O. You need it.”

“Say that again.”

“You need it.”

Oliver groans. “The other part.”

“Sleep is important.”

“Exactly.”

“Fuck you,” Rhett grits out.

“You make it sound like it’d be a punishment.”

With a dark smirk, Rhett says, “If that’s how you want it.”