Page 71 of Dirty Dancer

“I will,” I promised, but I didn’t set her down until we reached the bed. Then I turned on the light. Because some conversations were meant for the dark. This was not one of them.

“I need to get dressed,” she told me before she scooted to the end of the bed.

“I wish you wouldn’t.” I could pull a Jasper and order her, but I wouldn’t. As it was, I took a seat on the bed and got out of her way. Her reaction down in the warehouse over the fight said a lot more about her strengthandher fragility than anything else. The urge to wrap her up was right there, but we couldn’t smother her.

No matter how much we wanted to do it.

“I have to go after him…”

“No,” I said. “You don’t.”

Whirling, she glared at me. “You didn’t see his face.”

“I don’t have to have seen his face,” I told her, focusing on the fire in her eyes. “I know him, Dove. I know how angry he probably was.”

“Then why are you so calm?”

“Because he’s Jasper. Anger is his love language, sometimes.” I sighed. “That sounds bad. He’s very possessive where you are concerned. Finding you here—with me? Probably drove home the point that he doesn’t get a say in what you do.”

“Or who?” The dry challenge there pulled a reluctant smile from me.

“No, he doesn’t get to decide that Dove. If you want me, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if I want him?”

“I won’t deny you what you want.” I spread my hands, but at least she wasn’t trying to get dressed anymore. She just stood there with the t-shirt in her hands. “Or who.”

Shock rippled over her face. “Why?”

“Why won’t I deny you?” Cause I wanted to be sure what she was asking.

Something frustrated and helpless flickered over her face as she spread her arms. “I don’t understand you guys.”

“Come here, Dove.” I held out a hand to her and curled my fingers in invitation. For a moment, she hovered there—suspended between action and inaction. The need to help her was a knot in my gut. But she needed to reach out to us. The shirt fell from her fingers as she crossed to the bed.

When her palm glided over mine, I wrapped my hand around hers and gave her a gentle tug. She came right to me and I pulled her onto my lap. She framed my thighs with her own as she straddled me. The dampness from earlier left us both sticky, but I didn’t give a damn about that.

With light fingers, she explored my chest and the ink on my shoulders and my arms. “I don’t like that I’m the reason he’s hurting.”

“You’re not,” I told her and when she kept her gaze on my chest, I slid a finger under her chin and lifted her eyes to me. “Youare not the reason. Jas has his own issues. Those aren’t on you to fix or to apologize for.”

“But—” She broke off and went back to staring at my tattoos. When she moved to the shield, I shifted my arm so she could run her fingers over it. “But he looked so hurt.”

“I imagine he did. He wants you a lot. He wants you to want him.” I took a breath. “I think he wants you to want him only.”

Those dark eyes lifted to mine.

“I want you,” I told her. “I’ve made no bones about that.”

“Well…” The barest hint of a smile curved the corner of her mouth.

“Bone, Dove,” I teased. “Not boner.” She bit her lip, but it didn’t keep her smile from flashing over her face. “My point is—I want you. I’m okay if you want him too. Jas will be—eventually. Just let him get out of his own way.”

“Vaughn…” There was no mistaking the troubled note in her voice. “This is all very—different for me.”

“So we figure it out.” Because while I’d never been opposed to sharing with the guys, it was definitely different for all of us to want one girl. We did. Whether they owned up to it yet or not. We all wanted her and we’d wanted her for a long time. Maybe that level of intensity was too much for her.

Yet.

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