Page 66 of Fracture

“I’ve never thought of her that way,” I admit, and the realization seems to blindside both of us a little. “Our parents wanted it like that, for the cameras, for the press. The perfect blended family. But it wasn’t ever that way in my head.”

Dylan puts his hands on his hips as he looks at the floor, shifting on his feet again, like he’s unsure whether he should go back to running away from his problems, or stay here and face them head on. “So, how do you want this to work?”

“I think we should all talk about this together.”

He raises a hand, his eyes meeting mine with fierce determination. “I want to hear it from you first. I want to know how you see this working.”

I shrug. “We’ll be together, the three of us.”

“So you fuck her and I fuck her, and…”

I chuckle, leaning back against the headboard. “I’d kind of like to fuck you, too.”

His eyebrows knit together, and suddenly I see all the hesitation and worry, the pain and insecurity that’s plagued him and sent him running and running til his body was worn out.

“Dylan, I want you.” I rise from the bed, and he watches me with a look of pain in his eyes. “I do. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I didn’t think I could. But you make me fucking nervous. I look at you and you’re so fucking beautiful, it makes me want to cry and laugh at the same damn time that you’d even look at me.”

“How… How long have you felt this way?”

I shrug, trying to pinpoint the moment. “I can’t even tell you, it just… It just happened.”

“While we were in prison?”

I hesitate for a second, before I nod, and he clenches his eyes shut. “God fucking dammit, Fenton.”

I take a step towards him, but he holds up a hand.

“You should have told me.” He leans against the door, shaking his head. “I want both of you. I need you, both of you. I can’t be without you.”

I walk up to him to take his face in my hands, his beautiful brown skin covered in sweat. I draw his face down to mine, so his head rests against mine. “I want you to let me love you, Dylan. In the ways you need me to. I know you need love, so fucking badly. And I can’t believe I’m fucking lucky enough to be the man you want to love like that.”

His mouth quirks into a painful, cynical smile. “Who knew Levi Fenton was a poet?”

“Who knew Levi Fenton had a heart?” I stroke his jaw with my fingertips. “Who knew it would belong to the both of you?”

Dylan wraps his arms around me, tugging me close and I don’t care that he’s drenched in sweat. I bury my face in thecrook of his neck, peppering kisses over his heated skin and promise myself that I’ll love him til all the pain and hurt he’s suffered is nothing but a blip, a speck in the distance that he never has to worry about ever again.

“And Stella wants this too?” Dylan asks after a while.

“She does. She feels sick about it, but she does.”

“There’s nothing sick about this.” Dylan tips my head back, his eyes wandering over my face as he sighs. “I was worried too. Last night, this morning, I was all tangled up wondering if it was wrong. Wondering if I was sick. If we all were. But we’re not.”

“No.” I smile at him. “She even asked about threesomes.”

“Jesus.” Dylan hisses and releases me. He braces his hands against his hips, his body tilting forward as he laughs breathlessly. “Fuck me. Our girl sure is full of surprises.”

“That she is.”

“She still asleep?” He strips out of his soaked shirt, and the way his abs glisten with sweat in the sunlight does nothing to abate my poor, punished cock.

“I guess so. I was just going for a shower.”

He chews the inside of his cheek, tilting his head in a way that makes me want to kiss him hard. “Want company?”

I have to stifle a groan, and between him and Stella I don’t know how much more edging I can take. Yes, I want company. I want company that pins me against the wall and lathers me up and fucks me til I can’t fucking breathe anymore. I resisted last night, even though watching Stella fuck herself in the shower was torture and all I could think of was how that sweet pussy would taste dripping her release on my tongue. And now Dylan’s standing in front of me like some sort of God with his brown skin and those huge dark eyes, and my restraint is about as worn out and chafed as my poor assaulted dick.

“Sure.”You fucking idiot that’s the wrong answer. It feels so normal to follow him to the bathroom, like a regular thing we do.And fuck it if that doesn’t make me feel as giddy as a teenage boy with a crush. I want this to feel normal. I want to shower with my… my boyfriend.

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