Page 20 of Eternally Devoted

Dash reaches down and lifts the worn lead from the ground. The yellow dog has been with Juniper in my room since we put her to bed last night. I don’t know where she found him, but he’s given his loyalty to her already.

“Where do you think the dog came from?” he asks, and I don’t know why I’m disappointed that he’s veered the conversation to Juniper and not what transpired between the three of us last night. I mean, I guess nothing is different between us two. We’ve never fingered a woman together, so that’s different, but aside from that, we’re still… just friends.

Who are both clearly in love with the same woman.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to see the bright side. We need to figure out what is going on with Juni, and talking about last night before coffee with a hard-on? Probably not a good idea anyway.

“I don’t know, but,” I scratch my chest, and don’t miss Dash's gray eyes darting to the movement, tracking it for a moment before returning to the leash. “The dog didn’t have a scratch.”

Dash blinks at me through the room with curiosity lining his forehead. “No?”

I shake my head. “It was jam.”

“But,” he starts, dropping his voice to a volume he probably only uses over the pillow in bed. “She had blood on her, not just jam.”

Confused silence falls between us. I’d already considered that the two of them were coated in jam, but only Juniper had blood on her.

I lift my eyes to Dash as the coffeepot continues to fill. His lean, muscled chest is on display, his pajama pants low on his hips as he gets to his feet. I have no problem acknowledging that Dash is a movie poster type of guy.

Despite last night being great, the truth hasn’t changed: they make more sense together than she and I, and if Juniper even did like me, there’s no way she could like me more than him.

“Think the cut on her palm can account for it all? And can it all be attributed to a broken jar?” I ask, because he must see things like this as a cop all the time.

But Dash swipes a hand through his dark hair, hefting out a sigh. “It could. But if she just broke a jar of jam, where’d the dog come from? Why was she crying?” His tread eats the space between us until we’re nearly toe-to-toe in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee together. “It doesn’t make sense,” he says, gray eyes searching mine.

Despite the sudden dryness in my throat and the flutter in my chest, I grunt. “I agree.”

Dash’s dusky scent hits me as he lifts an arm, collecting two mugs from the open shelving in the kitchen. It’s criminal how good he looks in the morning, with sleep still in the corners of his eyes, his hair messy and skin imprinted with his sheets. The urge to unload the dishwasher hits me, so I bend over and open the door, pulling a frying pan out. Holding it over my crotch as casually as I can, Dash’s eyes drop to the pan, then come to mine.

The corner of his lips twitch, but he battles the smirk and wins. “Unloading the dishes right now? With Juni still asleep?” He looks at the pan again then reaches for the handle. His hand curls around the metal, right next to mine. His pinkie is warm against my thumb.

“I’ll put it away.”

His eyes pierce mine. “I’m right next to the cabinet, Sterling,” he deadpans, nudging the cabinet door open with his foot. I release my hold on the pan, because if I continue to hang on to it, he’ll surely understand that I was only using it to hide my erection.

He gets morning wood. He gets it. Maybe I’m not even that hard anymore. I’m probably not.

Relinquishing control, Dash yanks the pan to his side over the top of the open dishwasher, and falls into a crouch. He slides the pan into the waiting cupboard and closes the door, but as he rises, his gaze finds its way to my crotch.

Shock renders me quiet, because we’re a foot apart. There’s no way to misconstrue where his eyes are. Without a word, without so much as a smirk to acknowledge it, Dash reaches past me to the coffee and begins filling the mugs. Once they’re both to the brim he replaces the pot and levels a serious gaze my way, bypassing my cock, thank God. “Think she’s in trouble?” he asks, his voice lined with concern and a touch of fear.

I shake my head, happy to refocus on Juniper. “I don’t know.”

Dash sips his coffee. “I mean, she’s a jam maker. An ethereal moonbeam of glowing goodness and sweetness. Who in the world would have beef with her?” He wrinkles his nose, likely realizing now that his coffee is missing all his accouterments. On his feet, he grabs milk and sugar, getting his drink just right. Another sip and I’m transported back to last night, when Dash suckled at Juniper’s peach preserve-covered breast. My cockstirs at the fleeting thought, so I swallow a too big gulp of too hot coffee, shocking me into the present. Sweat bubbles at my hairline.

“I don’t know… but something’s up for sure.”

I blink rapidly to fight the burning sting in my eyes. Dash reaches past me for the carafe again, stopping halfway. “Hey, what did you want to talk to me about last night? I didn’t forget,” he says softly, his lips curving into an unknowing smile. That’s another thing about Dash that makes so much sense with Juni. They’re both naturally happy, always smiling.

I rake a hand up the back of my head, finding myself sweatier than I realized. See? Another thing that makes Dash the better man for Juni. She doesn’t want some garbage truck driver sweating over her in bed for the rest of her life.

The speech about Dash and Juniper making a good couple is more present in my mind than ever before. Last night… Maybe that was pity. Something’s up with Juni, and it’s true she gets comfort from me. Maybe that’s all I was, included for comfort? My final hurrah before they become a happy couple? I can’t even be mad if that happens. It makes so much sense. And I love them both. I want them both to be happy.

Another swipe of my palm, this time over my bare, damp chest. I scratch at my sternum, buying time as I sort my words. “I wanted to tell you—” I start, but just like last night, the speech is hampered by the appearance of Juni.

The yellow dog follows behind her, stopping when she stops, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table. If he’s not outside using the restroom, he’s glued to her. Her bare feet on my floor look different knowing she’s been dreaming in my bed all night. My poor cock hasn’t had a break since before last night. Watching Dash go to her, he crouches in front of her while gathering her hands with his.

His voice is so low, it vibrates through my spine, leaving a hot reverberation in my core. “You sure you don’t wanna talk about anything?” he questions softly as I pour her a mug of coffee. Taking a seat adjacent to them, I slide the mug to her. She passes me a soft smile, and my dick doesn’t realize the moment is brimming with angst, and hardens further nonetheless.

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