Page 60 of Wristlocked

“I know. My fault.” I sigh. “I fucked it all up.”

“No you didn’t. He was never going to put me in the act with you.” He takes a deep breath and places his hand over mine, lacing our fingers together and tucking our hands against hischest. “I’m glad you found what you were looking for with him. I shouldn’t have tried to hold you back.”

“You didn’t hold me back.”

“But I tried.”

“No. No, Lyot. You tried to protect me from myself. I was never going to let you. It was the only way I’d ever catch up to what you already have.”

“Can we have it together now?”

“I hope so.”

“As long as he’s part of it too.”

It’s not a question, but I don’t hear bitterness, only acceptance.

“He’s a little bit scared of you, you know,” I tell him.

“Gale?” He falls back on the pillow, shaking his head. “I fucking punched the guy in the mouth, and he didn’t even try to stop me. He fuckingsmiled.”

“That’s not what I mean. I think he’s scared of the things you make him want.”

He’s silent for a long time. Then he turns his head on the pillow and gives me a half smile.

“Good.”

“I’m taking Jamie down to the café for coffee,” Gale says, reentering the room and heading for the dresser. He stops when he sees our faces, and a slow smirk spreads across his features. “Are you talking about me?” He bends to grab a pair of faded jeans from the floor, eyeing us smugly.

“No,” I lie, returning his smirk.

“Yes,” Lyot says, propping himself up on his hands and giving him a slow once-over. I watch, fascinated, as a slow blush rises from Gale’s bare chest. To his credit, he doesn’t break the stare and takes his time stepping into the jeans and drawing them upover his hips. My own skin prickles with sudden heat, and I press my thighs together, trying not to squirm.

“So.” Gale raises an eyebrow. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving, actually.” Lyot pushes himself off the bed and stalks toward him. Gale leans back against the wall, watching him approach.

“Already? You better be damn good, pretty boy. Jamie’s getting impatient.”

“You wanna find out how well I suck cock?” Lyot asks, placing a hand on the wall beside Gale’s head and leaning in. “There’s something I need to know first.”

“What’s that?” Gale lets his head fall back against the wall, and Lyot reaches out and pinches the silver lip ring between his thumb and forefinger, tugging lightly.

“What this tastes like.”

For a long moment, they stare at each other, the air crackling around them as I hold my breath. Gale moves first, reaching up to grab the back of Lyot’s neck and surging forward to meet his waiting mouth.

I canfeelit on the back of my tongue—Lyot’s molten honey and Gale’s ravaging storm, and the profound release of an age of tension tipped past the breaking point. Lyot’s fingers hook into the waist of Gale’s jeans, tugging him against the line of his body, and a small sound escapes me. I think it might be my soul escaping, drawn from the jealous confines of my skin to seek rapture in theirs.

Gale breaks the kiss and turns his head to look at me.

“Is this turning you on, Smalls?”

All I can do is nod.

“Come here.” When he holds out his hand, I go to him without hesitation. Lyot shifts back to make room for me.

I fit perfectly between them, my bare breasts crushed against the wide planes of Gale’s chest, with Lyot lean and toned at my back.