Page 12 of Naughty & Nice

That changes everything.

My stomach knots with a mixture of regret and guilt as the ringing continues in my ear.

After a minute or so, the inevitable happens, and the call cuts.

“No answer,” I confess without looking back.

They’re both watching me, the heat of their stares burning into my back.

“It’s fine. The bed looked pretty big. Noelle can take the middle, and we’ll go either side of her.”

“Absolutely not,” Hendrix barks. You can take the couch or the floor. They’re your only options.”

“And you’re going to sleep where, exactly?” Wilder asks, wiggling his brows.

“Fuck off, Bro. This isn’t even your vacation.”

“So you get to sleep with Noelle, get all cozy in that romantic bedroom, and I get to attempt to sleep out here on that?” he mocks, pointing at the couch. It looks pretty comfortable to me, but then I’m not a six-foot-two football player.

“Yep. If you don’t like it, you could always…” He throws his hand out, gesturing toward the front door.

“That’s not very festive, is it?” Wilder complains before stalking forward and dropping onto the couch that has just been allocated as his bed.

He bounces a couple of times before announcing, “I’ve slept with worse.”

I just manage to catch my laugh before Hendrix groans and drags his hand down his face.

“I need more mulled wine for this,” he mutters before disappearing into the kitchen.

I take off after him but am slowed down when Wilder speaks.

“I know you’re thinking about what it would be like to be snuggled between the two of us.” My teeth grind and my lips purse, holding in the words I don’t need to say out loud.

“You’re lucky he didn’t kick you out before we left,” I seethe.

“I think you mean, you’re lucky he didn’t. Just think of the fun we can have over the next few days.”

Instantly, I’m taken back to the bathroom that night where he…

I slam that thought down. Nothing good can come from me thinking about it.

It was a mistake. A massive fucking mistake that I need to forget about.

If only that were possible…

My entire body is on fire as I step into the kitchen.

“I’m so sorry,” Hendrix says.

He’s resting back against the counter with a full glass of mulled wine in his hand. His brows are pinched in frustration, and he looks tense as hell.

“It’s okay,” I breathe, forcing myself to let go of my own irritation over the situation. “Things could be worse.” I walk closer to him and pick up the glass I assume he poured for me. “It’s Christmas, and we’re here just like we planned.” Hendrix snorts. “Okay, so not exactly like we planned. But we can still make the best of it.”

Hopping up on the counter beside him, I take a sip of my wine and groan in delight.

“This is our trip. It’s Christmas, and I refuse to let him ruin it,” I announce firmly.

“This is Wilder we’re talking about. He always gets what he wants.”

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