Page 33 of Stockholm (Angel of Mercy #1)

“If you keep giving her excuses she’s never going to say yes,” he whispers into Bo’s ear, and Bo’s eyes start to grow heavy. He’s reacting to Jesse’s voice, but it’s my face that Bo’s watching.

My throat is dry, completely thrown by the way the conversation is going.

Just a few moments ago we’d been curled up in bed, talking about the last few weeks.

He makes me feel connected to the old me.

Like I haven’t completely lost myself. Bo, who was my rock to lean on for years, the sole person I trusted with all my thoughts.

Now he’s here in front of me, totally under the spell of this intensely gorgeous stranger that’s captured his every moment.

Bo’s black shirt is teased at the bottom as Jesse’s hands wrap around his hips, playing with the fabric and sliding his hand underneath.

Jesse’s lean, lethal body curves over Bo’s to bite his shoulder, tug on his messy curls so that Bo’s eyes are locked on mine.

I’m barely breathing. I’ve never seen anything so captivating in my life than the way these two physically react to each other. Their chemistry burns so intensely that I’m somehow left feeling scorched.

“Bo, tell your sweet little friend what you said to me the other day,” Jesse directs, continuing to hold his head in place by the grip on his dark hair.

His other hand inches up his shirt, tugging it along to reveal Bo’s athletic body, a remnant of his days playing soccer after work.

His fingers slowly pull the fabric up, running them along his abs as they are revealed and Bo shivers.

“Stop, Jesse,” he says, but I’ve never heard a no sound so much like a yes before. Jesse must feel the same, because he ignores him.

“Stop what? Touching you? Or telling Emma here how much it turned you on to have her watch us the other night?” Jesse says, rising to his knees behind where Bo sits on his bed, cocking his head at me.

His hand in Bo’s hair goes soft, like he’s petting him, brushing it back softly as he studies my reaction.

“Something tells me she’s just as good as you are, Bo. ”

It’s like I’ve entered another level of the twilight zone. One where people actually say things like this out loud, instead of keeping them locked in their head where nobody can see or judge them for it. Where my best friend looks at me with a hazy expression like he’s waiting for me to answer.

Where I want to answer.

My teeth bite painfully into my lip.

Do it.

I open my mouth to respond when I catch sight of Noah behind Jesse’s shoulder leaning against the door frame, watching my reaction.

My eyes widen, mouth falling slightly open, alerting the others of his presence. Jesse snaps his head to the hallway, accidentally pulling on Bo’s hair when he does, who promptly elbows him in the ribs, making him double over with a groan.

“You fight dirty baby, but I love it,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Quit doing this shit, you’re making her uncomfortable,” Bo chastizes, blinking away the lust that had flooded his eyes a few moments ago. “I’m sorry, Em. Ignore him, okay? Are you good?”

I’m good. I’m just confused. I spend more time in this house fighting the butterflies in my stomach, ones that I’ve never felt before this.

Everything feels like a trap designed to turn me into a person I’m not.

Someone who might have said yes. Might have leaned forward, might have pressed my lips to my best friend’s.

Hoping his boyfriend’s hands would find his way to me as well.

My throat clenches. I nod. “I’m fine, it’s okay.” I laugh to ease his mind but it just sounds shaky and unconvincing.

Jesse, still rubbing his ribs, eyes me ruefully. “Yeah, you look totally fine. Not affected at all by us, little innocent thing that you are.”

My face flushes, caught, and I look to Noah. He cocks his head to the side to follow him.

“Come.”

Scrambling off the bed, I almost trip when my foot’s caught in the sheet. A large hand shoots forward, grabbing my arm to keep me from hitting my head on the wooden desk opposite the bed and I gasp, looking up at Jesse looming over me.

“Relax, princess, I promise he’s not going anywhere without you.”

It’s the first time he’s touched me, and my skin feels like it’s about to combust at this point. I nod, my nerves making me crave my little prisoner room, my bed, the comfort of being alone. I don’t know what to do with the molten feeling that’s filling me from the inside.

As usual, Noah doesn’t take my hand, just turns and walks toward my room and I follow like a pitiful puppy.

My mood souring as we get closer without him looking back at me or saying anything.

By the time we arrive, he steps to the side to let me pass and places his hand on the door as if he’s not even going to come in and speak to me.

“Goodnight, Emma,” he starts as I move toward the bed, hands fisted.

“Wait,” I say, tears threatening to fall. “Can you stay for a second?”

“Do you need something?” he asks dismissively.

My brow furrows, so thrown off by the quickness with which he can change his entire personality. “No. I just…you’ve barely spoken to me at all. I thought maybe you were coming to get me from Bo’s room because you wanted to…I don’t know. Talk?”

“Sorry, I’m not much of a talker,” Noah says, sarcasm filtering his words.

It pisses me off.

“So what, now on top of being a kidnapper, you also just put your hands all over me one day and then ignore me the next? Is this part of the game? Mental torture as well?”

He raises a brow at my words, giving me a once over that digs under my skin. “I don’t think I’d call it mental torture. I had no idea you were so desperate for more.”

“That’s not what I said,” I snap. Jesse is with Bo constantly.

He’s not shy about the fact he wants to be with him all the time, of how much he loves touching him.

It’s a lot, but it’s also kind of nice. How comforting would that be to be so positively sure that the person you’re attracted to feels the same?

Why isn’t Noah doing that with me? It’s rejection that burns in my stomach. He touched me, made me see stars, and then…that was it.

“Are you telling me that you want me to make you come again, my little captive?” he says, his voice teasing. He’s taunting me, and it makes me even angrier. “Forced here against your will and all you can think about is me making your pussy wet again, hmm?”

I’m glowering at him, hands fisted so tight I can feel my nails cutting into my palm. “I just don’t understand the hot and cold. You should have kept your hands to yourself if you didn’t want to make me feel this way. If this,” I say, motioning to my anxious body language, “wasn’t your intention.”

“Fine,” he says, disinterest dripping from his words.

“I’ll not make that mistake again. You forget that I’m in charge here, Emma.

I’m the one with the keys. So if I want to touch you and make you come, I’ll do it.

And if I decide to not touch you for another month after, you can fucking deal with that.

I can’t drop my entire workload just to make sure you’re getting coddled enough. ”

His words burn. Rejection stings thoroughly, though I try to hide how his words affect me. My throat burns from trying to hold back a new wave of tears.

What can I say to that? What a total idiot I am for thinking for a second that he was interested in me. I nod my head and turn for the bathroom.

“Wait,” I hear his voice say, the tone flipped from his last stinging words. Less angry, less dismissive. “Come here, Emma.”

I consider ignoring him, but quickly dismiss it. My heart is already traitorously thumping to hear him say my name.

When I turn, he looks different. Tired. “Come here,” he says again, and I do, walking up to the space he fills in the doorway, looking down at me.

“Sometimes…” He sighs, looking uncomfortable in the way that explaining himself might not be something he does very much.

“In this line of work, there are really good times. Where it can feel like yo u’re saving the world.

Others are very bad.” He closes his eyes, shaking his head as if to rid himself of something stuck inside it.

When his eyes open back up there’s a raw sadness in them that wasn’t there before.

“Sometimes I see things while doing what I do that are incredibly difficult. It’s been a hard week. ”

I nod, hands clasped in front of me. At least he’s speaking to me. He was explaining, which he obviously doesn’t have to do.

“Look at me, Emma,” he says, crooking my head up with his finger. “What Jesse asked you in the room. Did you want to say yes?”

I blink up at him, surprised at the question. His eyes are imploring, searching mine as if my true thoughts were etching in them.

“Don’t lie to me, either. This won’t work if you can’t be honest with me.”

I peer up at him. “What won’t work?”

He sighs again, pausing as if to find the words to clarify. But he fails, because he responds with just one word, motioning between the two of us. “ This .”

I release a shaky breath, hands twisting. I feel oddly like I’m being scolded by a parent. “I’m not sure,” I admit. “A tiny part of me wanted to say yes.”

A light flickers to life in his eyes. “Only a tiny part? Or a lot of you resists the idea?”

I shrug, unsure how to even unpack my thoughts on the things going on in this house. “This is all new to me. I’ve never dealt with anything like this before. I’ve never felt anything for anyone other than Eric, and that…that wasn’t like this.”

“Tell me how this is for you, Emma,” he asks.

I hesitate for a beat. “Um, it’s just more.

I feel more, my body feels more. When you touched me, that felt so different, stronger.

What Jesse and Bo are making me feel, I can’t even explain.

What kind of person am I for wanting it, for even picturing a kiss with my best friend, or his boyfriend?

For doing something like this when I’m married, or for wanting you to touch me again? ”

He’s already shaking his head before I finish talking.

“No. You’re only feeling guilty because of what you’ve been taught your whole life about what’s right and wrong.

Fuck all of that. Those rules no longer apply to you, to what happens here.

I’ll teach you to unlearn that guilt,” he says darkly, reaching up to trace the line of my collarbone with his finger, and I shiver.

“But for now, you need to go to bed. We can discuss this tomorrow.”

“Why,” I say, just barely restraining the urge to stomp my foot. My stomach is twisted in knots over sharing my feelings. Of revealing my need for him in hopes of provoking his attention. “Why can’t you just stay with me? Jesse’s definitely with Bo right now.”

His mouth tilts up, looking down at me with amusement.

“Who would have thought you’d have a little brat in you?

What a sweet little surprise for me. But I’ll only give you what you want when you’ve been a very good girl for me,” he says, breathing close to my face.

“This?” he says, indicating my clenched hands, my scowl, “isn’t how a good girl talks to her captor. ”

I could cry right now from frustration. He turns and shuts the door.

A brat? I’ve never been called a brat in my entire life. Yet, as soon as the words fall from his mouth, I’m inspired by the disobedience they imply. Like a straight shot of mischief heats my veins.

He’s still watching me, I realize. He showed up as soon as Jesse turned the conversation toward touching me.

And if he wants to be a voyeur, I’ll use that against him.