Page 19 of Beautiful Butterfly

When they arrived at the ice cream hut, Paris was sitting with his legs on either side of a picnic table bench, lounging with his back pressed into Cannon’s chest.

As soon as he spotted Alister walking toward him, Paris sat up with a silly grin plastered on his face. “About goddamn time,” he hollered. “Do you know how desperate I am for a Sour Patch ice cream?”

“I’ll be over by Cannon.” Wyatt kissed Alister’s temple before he walked away.

Alister gripped Paris’s hand and yanked his bestie toward the order window but far enough away that no one would overhear them.

“I said I was desperate for my ice cream, but that wasn’t your cue to rip out my arm.” Paris shook off Alister’s hold.

“We need to talk.” Alister glanced around like he was expecting secret agents to jump out of bushes and from behind the large tree towering over the picnic tables. “I need you to tell me if I messed up.”

“Let me get my ice cream. Then we can sit at the empty table behind us.” Paris didn’t look at him curiously because he was used to Alister’s frantic personality.

Too many thoughts and emotions were ping-ponging inside of Alister. Today was one for the records. He’d woken this morning in an amazing mood, mostly due to being claimed the previous evening but also because he could get his car back. Paris had tackled him in the police station and read him the riot act because Alister had ghosted his bestie for a week.

Then Sloane happened, followed by a spectacular showing of his ass in Wyatt’s driveway. And because Alister didn’t do anything half-heartedly, he damn near had sex in public before he’d frozen in front of the bakery.

If he’d known complete insanity would jump off today, he would have kept his tush in bed.

Paris came away from the window with his ice cream so high in the cone that it looked as if it would topple over after one lick. He handed Alister a bottle of water, and then they sat at the table, Paris’s back to Cannon and Wyatt.

Of course Alister had to sit on the side where he could stare obsessively at his mate and drool over his delicious body.

Paris’s eyes rolled to the back of his skull as he licked the side of the ice cream.

“You’re the only person I know who looks on the verge of an explosive orgasm when you drink your favorite coffee or lick ice cream so scandalously.” Alister opened his water and sucked the cold liquid down his parched throat.

“I slay at whatever I do.” Smiling devilishly, Paris groaned loudly as his tongue swirled around the head of the frozen dessert then sealed his lips over the side and slid his mouth downward.

“Cannon’s staring at you like that ice cream is his dick.” Alister smirked. “Keep up your performance and he won’t be the only one eye-banging you.”

“But he’s the only one with access to these lips.” Paris licked the ice cream from the side of his mouth then settled his arms on the table. “Tell what has your thong in a twist.”

“Wyatt is my mate,” Alister said. “I should have told you sooner, but I’ve been running from one disaster to another since we reconnected this morning.”

Paris’s head fell back as he groaned. “You’re about to go drama queen on me,” he whined. He lowered his head and looked at Alister. “I deserve it, but if our cops throw us down and cuff us, I’m putting my foot up your diva ass.”

“Are you referring to the fact that you’ve yet to tell me that Cannon is your mate?” Alister pursed his lips.

“When did you figure it out?” Paris squeaked.

“The moment you threatened to put me in my trunk and drive my car into a creak for ogling Cannon.” Alister narrowed his eyes. “You kept the most important thing to ever happen to you a secret from me.”

“I fucked up, all right?” Paris rested his forehead against the heel of his hand. “So much was going on with Negan and Sloane, and I was afraid if anyone found out about Cannon they would go after him.”

“You were afraid if I found out that I would accidentally blab,” Alister corrected. “I have been known to talk too much.”

Paris lowered his hand and aimed a guilt-ridden stare at Alister. “I trust you with my life, sweetheart, but—”

“Cannon is your mate, and you were going to protect him at all costs.” Alister nodded. “I feel the same way about Wyatt.” His eyes shot to his mate, who was leaning back, his elbows on the table behind him, his long, powerful legs stretched out in front of him, his ankles crossed.

The guy had to know how ravishing he looked. Thank goodness Wyatt wasn’t one of those guys whose ego was overinflated. Alister had met jerks who thought he should praise their body every five seconds.

“You might want to wipe the drool off your chin,” Paris said. “If you stare at him any harder, your eyes might pop out and roll across the table.”

Alister forced his attention back on his friend instead of Wyatt’s swoon-inducing body. “I really do talk too much.”

“Is the heat frying your brain?” One of Paris’s brows arched. “I was referring to lust, not language.”

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