Page 51 of Light My Fire

We’re discussing options when we hear a door open upstairs. Both of our heads swivel to the staircase. My heart starts thumping way too fast. I don’t know if I can handle seeing Brooke in Wyatt’s T-shirt and nothing else, looking glowing and satisfied.

Fortunately, it’s just Wyatt.

Though I could do without the smug look on his face. I also would prefer it if he wasn’t in his fucking underwear.

“I need water,” he declares, scratching his bare chest. “I’m dehydrated.”

That makes me roll my eyes. “Is Brooke staying in your room tonight?”

He strolls past me with the cocky arrogance of a man who thinks he’s performed well. “Yep.”

I refuse to ask him anything else. He wants us to and I fucking refuse.

Jackson can’t resist. He floats a “So…” out there.

“So what?” Wyatt asks.

“Don’t be a dick. Was everything okay, or are we going to have to pick up the pieces with a disappointed Brooke tomorrow?”

“No one was disappointed,” he says, taking a glass out of the kitchen cabinet.

“Speak for yourself,” Jackson retorts.

Wyatt grins.

“Seriously, though… she had a good time?” Jackson pushes.

“Yes. But I’m not giving you any details, so don’t ask.” Wyatt drinks the entire glass of water down in two gulps.

I don’t know what would make me more angry—him spilling details about Brooke or him not treating her to a good time, so I’m grateful he’s keeping his mouth shut.

Besides, I trust Wyatt did right by Brooke.

He wouldn’t be wearing that expression if it had gone sideways.

He refills the glass with more water and strolls back toward the stairs. “‘Night. Sleep tight, boys.”

“You’re making breakfast tomorrow,” Jackson grumbles. “You owe us.”

“I don’t owe you shit.” Wyatt shoots us a grin and walks up the stairs.

Jackson shakes his head. “I don’t know whether to knock him out or shake his hand right now.”

I feel the same way. “Maybe we should just go to bed.”

“No way. Let’s watch the movie. They’re still awake up there.”

“Good point.”

I settle in the club chair next to the couch and we put the TV on over the fireplace, the volume at a normal setting. In spite of thinking sleep will be elusive, I fall asleep after an hour and when I wake up Jackson’s asleep under a blanket on the couch and the TV is off. He looks settled in for the night, so I pad quietly up the stairs. I don’t even pause outside of Wyatt’s room. I just hightail it into my room and to the bed, which I made this morning. I always make my bed. It starts the day off right.

It has the advantage of giving me the opportunity to toss two pillows into the corner and yank the comforter back roughly. I punch the remaining two pillows. More than once.

Then I climb into bed and proceed to not sleep.

All I can think about is Brooke and how fucking gorgeous she must have looked with her expression softened by desire, her mouth falling open in surprise as she learned what exactly makes sex so incredible.

I roll on my side and wish it—and me—andeverythingcould be different.

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