Page 65 of Ruthless Desires: Vol. One

“Rhett,” I call after him, jogging to catch up. I grab his arm right outside my bedroom. “Be careful. Anddon’tgo alone.” My emotions come through in my voice more than I mean for them to.

I can’t help it. Rhett can handle himself, but he’s too angry to think straight right now. And if something happens to him, Oliver and I will never recover.

He pulls me in with a hand on the back of my neck and kisses me, soft and slow. When he pulls away, he smiles. “I’ll come back in one piece. Promise.”

It’s a simple task—find Adam, give him a piece ofallour minds, and come back. But as I watch Rhett walk down the hallway, I can’t help the tightness in my chest. Letting him go feels like walking in a field with a hundred sniper rifles pointed at me.

Not safe, too vulnerable, and unable to do a goddamned thing to protect myself.

“Where’s he going?” Wren asks, and I feel her arms wrap around my waist from behind.

“Don’t worry about it. Now let’s get you soaking.”

We both strip, and I pull her into the tub, having her settle in between my legs like last night. But she twists, turning around so she’s looking at me. Her eyes graze my chest, taking in the ink on my skin.

“I was too distracted to get a good look at you last night,” she murmurs. Her fingers run over my body, lingering on my butterfly tattoo. “You all have this one.”

I swallow.Might as well tell her.“Rhett had a sister. Significantly younger than him, by about ten years. When we were in high school, she was killed.”

“That’s terrible, Elliot. I’m so sorry.” Her hand finds mine, intertwining our fingers and squeezing.

“She meant the world to all of us, but especially to him. When she died—it…gave us all issues. Rhett’s always struggled the most. She was his little sister, after all.”

“So the tattoo is to remember her by?”

I nod. It’s more than that—a pledge to hunt down the people who killed her and make them pay. It was the decision that started everything.

But I can’t tell Wren that. It’s too much. And in twenty-four hours, she’ll be gone. Back to being the barista we pine after every Friday.

Can we do that? See her every week but not touch her?

Fuck. We might have to find a different coffee shop. Part of me knows it won’t matter—I’ll never be able to scrub the feeling of having Wren close from my brain.

But one weekend fling can’t turn into a relationship. There’s no possible way she wants that, too. She’s opened up to us a lot, sure. But she’s still holding back. Why’d she do that if she wanted us?

It doesn’t matter anyway. Letting Wren into our relationship would bring along too many complications and dangers. It wouldn’t be fair to her.

Wren leans down, placing a kiss to the butterfly on my ribcage. Then she settles against me, her head on my chest.

“Comfortable?” I brush her hair to one side. “Are you sore?”

“Just a little,” she says, yawning. Then she giggles. “I promise I won’t fall asleep on you again.”

My lips ghost across her hairline. “If you’re tired, I don’t mind. Let yourself.”

I feel her tense. It’s barely noticeable, but reading her body language has become like a second nature to me. I guess that’s what happens when you can’t take your eyes off someone.

“Why do you care about me so much?” she says softly.

“Who are you comparing me to?”

“What?”

“Who are you comparing me to? Because the real question isn’t why I care so much. It’s why the men who had you before medidn’tcare.”

She lets out a breath. “I guess that’s one way to look at it. All three of you are just so…” She shakes her head. “Never mind.”

I don’t press her. Whatever she was about to say, I have a feeling it’s too much, too intimate. And that’s the last thing we need right now.