“I guess with your past relationships, it wasn’t strictly necessary,” he says, reaching down to run his fingers through my hair. “But no matter what, even if it’s just sex, I like for us to check in here, at the very least. And you did a lot for us.”
Did I?
“You were so good,” Oliver agrees, causing me even more confusion when he wraps his arm around my waist and kisses my shoulder gently. “Do you want a bottle of water?”
“I’m fine,” I say, still wondering if this is still some part of their game. “You know you didn’t hurt me, right?” Sure, I’d gotten carried away. It definitely wasn’t my intention to come over here and let them fuck me like this. But I’m fine, and it’s not like they’ve injured me or whatever they seem to think.
Rook’s smile is soft and caring, and so out of place on his face it nearly convinces me I’ve gone crazy. “Just because I haven’t hurt you, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be taken care of. Do you feel okay? Was the tail all right?”
“It was fine. It hurt a little, so clearly I’ve been lied to and traumatized, but it wasn’tterrible.” I should leave. I know I should leave, especially with Oliver curling tighter and tighter around me like a damn octopus.
The bigger problem is, I don’t want to push him away.
Rook reaches down again to stroke a knuckle over my cheek, searching my face for something that I doubt he’ll find. Hell, I don’t even know what it is.
“Next time, I’ll be better prepared,” he tells me, leaning down enough to kiss my hair. “I like to keep a fridge stocked for him. He’s starving after I play with him. And next time, you’re drinking water as soon as we’re done.”
I don’tfeeldehydrated, if that’s what he’s getting at. But with the rush of adrenaline wearing off and Oliver’s soft touches, I can’t help but feel like I’m going to fall asleep.
“I can’t stay the night,” I murmur, fighting myself to stay awake as I remember how bad of an idea it would be. “I can’t stay at all. All I came over for was for Oliver to look at my photography… stuff.” It’s a losing battle. Even with every reason that this is a bad idea marching through my brain in repetition, I just can’t keep my eyes open.
“Sure, baby,” Oliver murmurs in my ear. “It’s just a little nap, wonder girl. It doesn’t mean anything.”
I’m drifting off, and I can feel my breathing change as sleep drags me down, yet I can still hear Rook’s amused question as I go.
“You really think she believes that, Oliver?”
“No,” comes Oliver’s voice, just before I lose sense of everything around me. “But maybe we can keep convincing her, just for a little while.”
When I wake up, it occurs to me I’ve been carried out to the couch. The smell of food drags me out of my coma, and I sit up with a groan and the realization I have my clothes back on, except for my bra.
“What time is it?” I mumble, staggering to my feet. No matter what time it is, I need to leave. I need to go home… and according to my sneering stomach, I needfood.
“It’s almost midnight,” Oliver informs me lightly, smiling from the kitchen. Rook is standing at the stove, cooking something that looks like extra thick bread. “You seemed to be waking up, so Rook’s making breakfast.”
I look between them, a little confused, and ask, “Breakfast? Did you really just say breakfast?” The sense of caution is creeping back in, but hunger beats it back with a stick.
“Yeah,” Rook says, turning to drop another piece of French toast on a plate. “And since I doubt you like your eggs burned, I cooked for you.” He puts a plate in front of me, and one in front of Oliver, before getting both of us water out of the fridge.
It’s entirely… domestic. Especially with how Oliver is drowning his sausage and French toast in maple syrup and acting like this is just a typical midnight. But it isn’t. Not to me, anyway.
And Rook is never this nice to me.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” I say, staring down at the plate of food that looks amazing. “I don’t—I can’t stick around you. While I appreciate all of this, once I don’t have a class with Oliver or you, that’s it. I won’t have a reason to keep coming over here.”
Rook leans his hip against the counter, arms folded for a second before he reaches up to push his dark hair out of his eyes. “Is that so?” he asks, as if he doesn’t want to argue with me but doesn’t quite believe me.
Which is fair, since I’m not sure if I actually believe myself in this situation.
“You can’t think I would stay around, right?” I stab into the French toast, tearing off a piece before bringing it to my mouth. My face must show how good it is, because Rook looks pleased. “I mean. Because… you know.” My eyebrows raise as he studies me, and I feel a flush creeping up my cheeks.
Oliver doesn’t say anything, though I don’t know if it’s because he’s too engrossed in his food or because he wants to see me make a fool of myself.
“No, I don’t think I do. Go on,” Rook invites. “Tell me why you justcan’tmake this a thing and give us a chance.”
“Because you’re serial killers!” I snap, my voice quieter than I mean it to be. “You kidnapped me!”
“Only barely. He’s pretty bad at kidnapping, as I think we’ve both discovered. It’s not in his future,” Rook remarks, eyes sliding to Oliver before coming back to rest on mine. “Go on.”