Page 83 of Theirs for the Holidays

“A lot,” Rhett supplies.

“In a good way,” I rush to add. “In a really good way. But now I’m paying for it because I didn’t even know I could be sore like this.”

The guys are sympathetic to my pain, but it’s also very clear they’re feeling some kind of manly pride over it. I poke Lennox in the side about it, giving him a frown.

“Sorry,” he says with a guilty grin. “But there is something nice about knowing that you’re going to be thinking of us with every step today.”

“Mm, yeah,” Sawyer agrees. “I like that a lot. You won’t be able to forget the way we wore you out last night.”

My sore pussy clenches at his words, making me moan in both arousal and slight pain. I shoot him a mock stern look, even though I’m sure my flushed face and grin undercut the seriousness of my expression. “As if you won’t be thinking about it too.”

“Oh, we will,” Rhett puts in with a rough chuckle. “We definitely will.”

Since it’s my day off today, there’s no rush to get up. The guys seem to be in a similarly unhurried mood, and we take our time getting up and getting started for the day. Lennox disappears into the shower, and Rhett goes to argue with the coffee maker, even though I’ve told him it’s better to let me do it.

Sawyer rolls to his feet, stretching his arms overhead, and I shamelessly ogle him, taking in his strong lines and delicious muscles. He catches me looking and winks, flexing a little to make me laugh.

There’s the sound of a phone dinging somewhere in the pile of clothes, and he digs out his phone from his pocket. He grins and his eyes flash up to me. “Get dressed and then come with me,” he says.

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Ominous,” I tease, but get up and go wait for my turn in the shower. There’s no way I can go out in public smelling like all kinds of sex and carrying on.

Once I’m clean and dressed, I meet Sawyer by his truck, and climb into the passenger seat.

“So you’re really not going to give me a hint about where we’re going?” I ask.

He fiddles with the GPS on his phone, turning the screen so I can’t see it. “Nope. Not a clue. You’re just going to have to let yourself be surprised, Peaches. You trust me, don’t you?”

I nod because of course I do. Even before all of this, I would have said I trusted him, and the last few days have only cemented that.

“Good,” he replies. We drive in silence for several minutes, watching the snow covered trees whip past the window as we leave Sweetwater Lake and get onto the interstate, heading for the city. There’s some cheesy Christmas mix on the radio, and Sawyer taps his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat as he drives.

Eventually, he breaks the silence, looking over at me. “Thanks, by the way. For last night.”

I flush immediately, plunged into a sense memory of hands and mouths and that delightful mix of pleasure and pain. Ishiver, swallowing hard as my body tries to react. “I think I should be thanking you,” I murmur.

He laughs, shaking his head. When I look at him, there’s heat in his eyes that lets me know he’s thinking of everything that happened too. “I don’t mean the sex,” he says. He pauses, then adds, “Well, notjustthe sex, anyway. Mostly, I mean… thanks for making me and my brothers talk.”

“Oh. You’re welcome. I didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Or why.”

He nods. “Yeah. Clearly, we needed to have it out, without all the barbs and trying to get under each other’s skin, but we just never did. It was easier to just hold on to the bad feelings and assume the worst about each other’s intentions. And the fucked up thing is, I don’t even think we realized we were doing it. I know I didn’t wake up one morning and decide to just assume that Lennox felt a certain way. It just… happened.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, the point is, we needed someone to force us to see what was actually going on, and I’m grateful it was you. You’re pretty fucking amazing.”

I can’t help the smile that spreads over my face to hear that. “I’m glad I could help,” I murmur back. “And I’m glad it seems like you’re all getting along better.”

“It’s thanks to you.”

“I’m sure you would have found your way back together eventually.”

“Maybe,” Sawyer allows. “But it would have taken a lot longer. And things probably would have gotten worse before then. So we owe you.”

We end up in the next town over, and Sawyer parks outside a shop that looks shiny and expensive. It’s one of those fancy home goods stores, where everything is made from dark woods and gilded metals and costs more than I make in a month.

“What are we doing here?” I ask him, looking around in awe as we step inside.

“You’re not very good with surprises, are you?” he asks, teasing. “Give it a minute.”