***
None of us seems interested in moving from the tangle of limbs we’re in. At some point, Riddick reaches over, grabs the remote from the low table and turns on the TV, turning the volume low, and we watch a program about fishing.
I think it’s about fishing. I’m so lost in the feel of Ryan’s hard body pressed to mine, his heart beating under my hand, the sweeter scent at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and the way a few longer strands curl softly behind his ear that I can’t process anything else.
Except Riddick. His big hand closes over mine, over Ryan’s chest. His presence is radiating heat and strength, and his gaze when our eyes meet briefly, is magnetic.
He doesn’t seem confused anymore. Doesn’t seem conflicted.
Unlike me. I’m so frigging confused.
I need to talk to Candy. But she’ll probably tell me to keep them both. Which would be crazy. Given they both want to be with me, which isn’t a given at all.
With me and each other, too? Am I supposed to pull a Candy?
No. I should talk to Simone. She’ll put my head back on straight. If nothing else, she’ll punch me until my mind swings back into place.
Or maybe I’m drunk. The boys’ spicy scent has sneakily invaded my senses, the heat of their bodies seeping into me.
Man, I wish I was pressed between them.
A boy sandwich.
Oh God…
Ryan’s head has dipped forward. His lashes rest on his cheeks, darker than his blond hair, and his mouth has gone slack. He’s asleep, and I feel that familiar twinge in my chest at how vulnerable he looks like this. How young and weary. How trusting and open.
Over his head, Riddick shoots me a faint smile, and I smile back, thinking how despite all his own problems he stepped up to help—first me with the event at the hospital, and now Ryan.
Even though he doesn’t trust him. Even though he isn’t sure.
What am I going to do with these two guys who got hold of my heart like this?
After tonight, I may have to get Simone and her voice of reason on speed dial, because I clearly can’t think straight anymore.
***
We end up dozing for a big part of the night, Ryan not letting us go, even in his sleep.
“What should we do?” I whisper to Riddick after I wake up for the third time with Ryan snoring softly in my neck.
“We could let him have the sofa and bring him a blanket.” His voice is so hoarse it hurts my ears, and he looks beat. “Or we could help him to bed.”
“And what about us?”
“I have a few ideas.” He grins wolfishly at me, his dimples flashing, and my face heats up. “I could show you.”
“I mean, where will we sleep? Do we leave him and go home?”
“Bry…” Sleepily, Ryan turns his face into my neck and I yelp. Ticklish.
God, he’s adorable like this. And his mussed blond hair and sleepy eyes are so sexy.
Focus, Bry. You can’t seriously want them both the same way. To the same degree. And besides that’s not what you’re discussing right now.
“We could crash here,” Riddick mutters, glancing around the sleek living room with its thick carpet and expensive-looking TV. “If we put him to bed, you could take the couch. I could take the floor.”
“No.” I shake my head. “You can take the sofa, and I—”