Page 82 of The Pact

“Morning,” I mutter, not meeting anyone’s gaze in particular. “Busy day at the studio. I should be done by two. Anyone need anything while I’m out?”

I grab a breakfast bar from the cabinet and a bottle of water, practically running towards the door. Despite knowing that I need to start truly investing in these relationships, I want a few hours to get my head right after overhearing their conversation.

“Not so fast, love.” Cole grabs me by the waist. “No good morning kiss?” He feigns hurt, then leans down to capture my mouth. Slipping his tongue between my lips, I’m melting into him before I can stop myself.

The slightest touch from Cole or Sutton has me rabid these days—my body reacts accordingly. I run my hand through his curls, pulling on them.

Okay, maybe I can start a little now.

Cole groans against my mouth as I tug his hair. My other hand drifts down his torso and over the waistband of his pants. He tenses, unsure of what I’m doing. This isn’t like me. I push back the nervousness that’s rising at the thought of what I’m about to do in front of his brothers.

My fingers slide over him, feeling the slight bulge in his sweatpants. “Christ, love.” I ignore his surprise and stroke his growing erection.

All eyes are on me. I don’t need to have them open to know that, but keeping mine closed helps with the fear of being on display. “Sutton wouldn’t touch me last night,” I whisper against his mouth, just loud enough that all of them can hear me. Finally, I open my eyes and let my gaze slide to Sutton. “I thought we were going at my pace. Am I moving too fast for you boys?”

The words and the sultry voice are completely foreign. I want to cringe, yet I force confidence instead.

“Because, if I am, I can certainly slow down.” My fingers pull away from Cole. He tries to arch into my hand, but I put my palm to his chest, keeping the distance. I push up on my tiptoes, giving him a light peck on his parted lips.

I turn from him and find Damian’s eyes are wide, Wesley’s jaw is slack, and Sutton’s hands are tightly gripping the marble of the island.

While I can’t come out directly and say something about what I heard, I can allude to our conversation from yesterday. “So who’s feeling neglected? I had the entire night with Sutton. Cole got the goodbye of a lifetime. Who are you passing me off to, Damian? Wesley? Yourself? You know what, just let me know in the group chat. I’m running late.”

Damian levels his gaze at me, his eyes darkening with impatience. “Wesley’s offered to take you on a hike. This afternoon, after work, is that good for you?” I open the breakfast bar, tearing off a corner.

“So good,” I taunt seductively. I don’t miss the flex of Damian’s jaw at my words. Yesterday he said I would regret calling him a good boy. However, if he has some weird rule about the other guys pursuing me first, then I can draw this out some. Make him squirm, as Wesley said.

He needs to learn to let go of some of that control. He also needs to learn that I’m an important part of their group now, not some plaything. I think the only way he’s going to understand that is if I assert myself.

I take the long way to the door to avoid passing Damian. As I’m walking by Wesley, I decide to add a little extra flair to my performance.

Sutton’s advice comes to mind. “He loves the chase, but surprise him once in a while.”

Pausing, my gaze sweeps over him. He’s wearing black joggers and a matching hoodie. I’m not sure why, but how he looks today stirs something in me. “See you for our hike later.” I smile sweetly. Standing on my tiptoes, I pull his shoulder down so that I can plant a quick kiss on his clean shaven jaw. It’s entirely unexpected. Wesley goes rigid under my touch.

I practically skip out the front door, avoiding eye contact with Damian completely.

28

THEA

We’ve been walking for over an hour. The warm summer air makes my skin sticky, even under the shade of the trees. It’s been weeks since my last hike, the night the crazed man opened my truck door, and it feels good to get my body moving in this way again.

The trail Wesley chose isn’t far from the house. We walked to the entrance instead of driving.

Greenery takes up nearly every inch of my vision, only interrupted by the muted brown of the tree trunks and the dirt path we’re walking on. I have yet to see any flowers or a flicker of color that I might capture with my camera.

Not that I think Wesley will be too fond of me stopping to take pictures every time something catches my eye. The energy rolling off of him reeks of annoyance. It’s why I was reluctant to approach him when I got to the house after work.

Earlier, I found him in the gym, playing his screaming music while working out. I tried gathering my nerve to interrupt, but having all day to think about my actions in the kitchen left me hesitant.

After my little show, I was riding a wave of adrenaline. That soon came crashing down around me. Embarrassment replaced the rush of power. Shame boiled over at my out of character behavior as well as how much I enjoyed being close to Wesley—a man who wants nothing to do with me.

Those familiar feelings of rejection mixed with the humiliation plagued me, yet there I stood admiring Wesley as he worked out.

All I could think about was the feel of his muscular arm under my hand and the warmth of his cheek against my lips. His faint comforting scent of outdoors, pine and leather, clung to me all day.

I gave myself a minute to work up the courage to approach him. He was shirtless and using the pullup bar. His tan back was slicked with sweat, making his muscles glisten as they contracted with each pull upwards. I counted five—he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping.

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