Page 20 of Twisted Trails (Rogue Riders Duet #2)

“Yeah,” I admit, giving a sheepish little shrug. “It was dumb, really, but without you rubbing me so hard, winning wasn’t as easy anymore.”

Mason lifts his gaze. “Rubbing you?”

Fuck.

My mind goes to places, and my dick twitches, because of course it does. My dick has zero sense of timing and distinguished taste. It wants who it wants, which is apparently a girl in disguise and a boy who scowls like sin.

“Fuck you,” I mutter, trying to adjust my hard-on subtly. “English is not my first language. You know what I mean.”

He glances down at my very obvious semi with that smirk.

Sin , I tell you.

“That’s a bit too big for you to pretend it’s not hard.”

Cocky little shit . Just like Petite .

“Yeah? And you’re probably small,” I fire back weakly.

He just smiles , which screams big dick energy, and yep . Now I’m fully hard.

“Do you feel better?” I ask, before this train wreck can get any more off the rails.

“No.” Mason exhales, lifting his chin. “Do I look like I’ve cried?”

He does . Totally.

“You look good, Pretty Boy . ”

He groans and rubs his eyes with his hand. “Can you stop with that bullshit?”

I smirk. “I’ll stop when you stop being pretty.”

My hand is still wrapped around his, and I don’t want to let go, but then a soft rattling cuts through the tension.

Toulouse.

The little traitor is hanging off the side of his open cage like that was his cue for a dramatic entrance.

Mason glances over at him. “Hey, buddy.”

The lightness when Mason looks at Toulouse has me crossing the room, scooping him up, and handing him over.

Mason cradles him like he’s precious and strokes his head as he whispers, “You’re so damn cute.”

That’s when I know.

I’m stupid for Mason Payne.

Just as stupid as I am for Petite .

And that should be a problem, because I’ve never been stupid for anyone before, and now it’s two people. But she said she’s stupid for Greer too. So maybe it’s okay to be stupid for two people?

Maybe love doesn’t have to pick sides.

Maybe she won’t mind if I don’t either.

If Mason wants that.

I watch him loving on Toulouse so closely that I see the moment his chest swells again, too fast. He’s still hurting and trying to hold it all in, and now he’s sniffling , and I’ve had enough.

“Fuck this,” I mutter, taking my son from Mason’s hands and setting him back in his cage.

“Wha—”

I scoop him up before he can finish, one arm under his knees, the other around his back. He startles, but doesn’t pull away, letting me carry him, even though he’s still all tense limbs and that unfairly gorgeous face.

He bounces softly in my arms when I sit on the bed, and I shift until his legs drape over mine, then curl my arms around his calves.

“Why are you about to cry again?” I ask, holding him tight and scanning his face.

“I don’t know. It’s just… it’s too much. I don’t know how to handle everything.”

My stomach sinks at his admission. I want to fix it all and wrap him in bubble wrap.

“Then let’s handle everything together,” I offer, meaning every word. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He lets out a shaky breath. “That’s one of the things that’s hard to handle.”

“What is?”

His lashes lift just enough to meet my eyes, and I have to stop myself from counting every little beauty mark like I’m trying to memorize a map of him. “You. You are difficult to handle, Luc.”

“That’s nothing new, but I’m willing to change. I’m willing to try?—”

He cuts me off with a chuckle. “You don’t get it.

” I swear my heart skips a beat as his fingertips brush my chin.

He holds my face, thumb stroking across the stubble, and butterflies explode under my ribs.

“Handling you was hard when you were an asshole, but handling you while you’re being nice?

” He leans in, breath ghosting my cheek. “It’s even harder.”

Everything in me stills as his lips brush my jaw and then explodes when I realize that he’s kissing me.

He presses another kiss to my skin, closer to my ear this time, and whispers, “Is that okay?”

God, I want to scream my answer. Yes , kiss me, ruin me, make me yours.

But then my brain flashes with dark hair and sharp eyes— Petite —and the promise I need to make.

“ Mason. Not yet.”

He startles, eyes widening with something that looks a lot like hurt.

I shake my head and cup the back of his neck, then press our foreheads together.

“I just have to take care of a few things first, okay? Give me some time to do that. Then, nothing will hold me back. You’re so damn kissable.

” I kiss his cheek, then whisper against his skin, “So damn hot and fuckable.”

He vibrates against me, and I’m scared he’s going to cry again, but then I pull back to see him smirking.

“I’m a top, Luc.”

My jaw drops, but before I can even process the onslaught of ideas that gives me, there’s a knock, and the door creaks open.

Alaina peeks in, and her eyes go wide when she sees us. Mason is half in my lap, my hand still on his neck, both of us flushed, rumpled, too close, too intimate.

My heart leaps straight into my throat.

Fuck.

For a split second, something flickers in her expression, but then she just smiles sheepishly .

“I’m sorry,” she says quickly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I just wanted to check if you’re okay, but it looks like Luc has, umm… everything under control.”

“ No.” I shake my head. “He needs both of us. Come here, Petite. ” I pat the spot beside Mason, ignoring the way he’s stiffened again. “He needs an emotional support hug from both sides.”

She hesitates, eyes flicking to Mason, waiting for permission. They look at each other for several moments, and he relaxes against me before giving her one of those small, tired smiles that’s somehow still stupidly sweet, and my heart combusts.

She steps in and closes the door before crawling onto the bed with timid movements, like she’s afraid she’ll shift the balance just by being too much.

She has no idea that she is the balance.

We’re still sitting awkwardly, so I tug Mason with me as I lie back against the pillows. He follows without protest, his body warm and pliant against mine.

Alaina hovers, like she’s not sure how to fold into us, so I grasp her hip, and she follows my guidance to lie down behind Mason.

She curls into him slowly, letting her taped fingers slip over his side and her other hand rest near mine on his chest. Taking her wrist, I tug her closer until we’re all wrapped up in one long, messy line.

Somehow, even with all the bruises and cracks and unfinished conversations between us, we fit.

No one speaks for a long moment, but then Alaina whispers to Mason, “You okay?”

He exhales slowly. “I am now.”

“Are we okay?” She swallows, and I feel her pulse jump beneath my fingers.

He nods. “Yeah, Bambi, we’re good.”

“We’re all gonna be fine,” I promise, tightening my hold around Mason and squeezing Alaina’s wrist. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And maybe it’s a lie. Maybe I can’t protect them from everything.

But I’ll bleed trying.