“Bedtime. Both of you go to your rooms,” Bron snarled.
“Seriously?” My outburst earned me a raised eyebrow. He was a whole different type of scary without the beard. I’d expected him to have a rugged, homely face, but the man was irritatingly hot. No wonder he had two ex-wives—he was definitely handsome enough to attract women by the busload and then keep them wondering if he’d ever be faithful. Other women would always throw themselves at him.
Keeping these two men trapped on a remote island should have been tried as a crime against humanity.
Under Bron’s hard gaze, I felt a little less brave.
I couldn’t let the man win without sassing him at least a little.
“Fine.”
He grunted his annoyance before turning to face Ilya, who hadn’t agreed or moved. Instead, Ilya had folded his big arms across his chest and cocked his head in challenge.
“No. No more treating me like a child.”
“Then get to your room, and I’ll beat you like a man.”
“Then fuck me like a man? No. If you want anything from me from now on, you will ask as though I’m an actual human being with free will.”
“Why should I change my ways now when you and I both know I can take what I want, and you like it that way?”
Ilya swallowed. “There are many times I do enjoy it, but also times you should have honored my wishes when I told you to stop.”
“I’m not here to be your boyfriend.”
“And yet…”
Bron stormed off, but apparently Ilya wasn’t done. He followed, and I slid off the counter and trailed after them, feeling like I was intruding but also wanting to mediate if I could.
We ended up at Bron’s room, where he was pacing in the space at the foot of his bed. Ilya stood, blocking the door, as though he thought Bron might take off again.
“Why are you so angry?” Ilya demanded.
Bron ran his fingers over his newly shortened hair, as though he would be pulling at it if he could get a grip on it. “I don’t know!”
“It’s not because I won’t submit to you tonight.”
“No,” Bron admitted. “I should kick your ass for your disobedience, but I don’t have it in me right now.”
“Going home tomorrow is upsetting you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know! Why does the thought of leaving here make me feel this way?”
”Is it because things will change between the two of you?” I interjected. They needed to see what I saw, but I doubted they’d get there on their own at this point. It had been too long.
“What are you saying, woman?” Bron snapped.
“You’re worried about losing Ilya.”
He stopped pacing and glared at the portion of me he could see past Ilya’s muscular body.
“Just because I accepted your dare and kissed him doesn’t mean I’m soft for him.”
“Give me your phone.”
“What? Why?”
“There’s no signal here, Delilah. You know that.”
“Give me your phone,” I demanded again, holding out my hand.
“No.”
“Why do you need his phone?”
“Because he’s lying to himself. You know how you write poems about him? Well, he takes pictures of you when you’re not looking.”
“He does?” Ilya asked, incredulous.
“I like photography,” Bron said stubbornly. “You’re only imagining it means more than it does.”
“Let me see,” Ilya demanded.
“My phone is none of your business.”