Page 39 of Never Dance with the Devils
Kyle holds a staying hand up. “I want to hear whatever it is you have to say. I do. But I’m gonna need these assholes to put their dicks away first.” His points at my crotch, then Riggs’s. Most guys would probably cover themselves, but we grew up in locker rooms full of swinging dicks so nudity is nothing unusual for us. Plus, we’re in our own damn home. “Especially Patrick. Jesus Christ, man. Why do you even need a hockey stick when you’ve got that fucking thing hanging there?”
“Do you really want to know?” Riggs deadpans.
As if the implications of that only just occurred to him, Kyle’s eyes comically widen as they jump to Kayla. “Seriously?” And then he starts putting more pieces together, like that there are three naked people in front of him. “Hol-ee shit!”he exclaims and then instantly begins pacing as he rambles. “Oh my God, are you like a menagerie? No, that’s not right. What’s the word?” He shakes his head, his shaggy hair flopping around, and then he taps his forehead with his palm like he can force the word to the surface, which seems to actually work. “A throuple! That’s it. Kayla, are you throupling?”
I think that word hits all of us hard. I know it does me, opening a yawning pit in my stomach, and I’m the most chill of the three of us. Because labels are a touchy thing in the best of circumstances, and let’s be real, surprise naked family introductions aren’t exactly ideal.
Riggs swallows so thickly, the sound is audible. And though Kayla is standing right here with us, her entire demeanor is that of someone facing a firing squad of one.
“Let’s all calm down,” she finally says, her voice even as she talks to her brother like he’s a wild animal on the verge of a rabies-fueled rampage. Or maybe like she’s about to run for the hills. Either-or, fifty-fifty.
“In my experience, telling someone that usually makes things worse,” I suggest helpfully, remembering the time those words came out of my mouth before she’d made sure I thought again.
Not heeding my advice in the slightest, she whispers, “Could you excuse us for a minute, please?”
Is she actually asking Riggs and me to leave her alone with her brother?
I don’t want to do it, especially when she hasn’t said yes or no to the whole throuple question, but I guess wearing pants while meeting her family does seem like abetter idea than standing here with my dick out. “I’ll get you a shirt,” I offer, and she nods. “And be right back.” I give Kyle a warning look, but it’s completely wasted because he and Kayla are mid-glarefest.
I get an image, back to their childhoods, and all I can say is that the Harrington family home must have been the site of some knock-down, drag-out arguments back in the day.
Riggs heads one way and I go the other, each to our suites to grab clothes. But he glances back over his shoulder, his brow raised and jaw tight. He doesn’t like this any more than I do—the intrusion, the unanswered questions, the sudden pressure to have a label for what we are and what we’re doing.
Shit. I’ve gotta get this under control before the whole thing spirals down the drain.
It only takes me a minute to grab a shirt, yank shorts on, and reappear in the living room, but Riggs is already there, standing with his arms crossed over his bare chest and a narrowed gaze locked on Kyle. Kayla’s wearing one of his T-shirts. Guess he’s still salty over me pulling that shit on him and this is his payback. Considering current circumstances, I let him have the win, pulling the shirt I grabbed over my own head.
“I can’t wait to hear this story, Sis,” Kyle says harshly, disbelief written all over his frowning face.
As I wait for Kayla to haughtily tell him he can stick his judgment where the sun doesn’t shine, I’m honestly kind of excited to watch her in action. But she presses her lips together, staying silent. She doesn’t shrink away from his demand, her back still straight, her shoulders square, and her eyes flashing fire, but no words come. No defense, no offense, no… anything.
I give her a chance to respond—even counting out one, one thousand, two, one thousand, which feels like an eternity—before deciding to pull a move from Kayla’s playbook, telling Kyle, “It’s none of your business what Kayla’s doing here.”
His brows climb his forehead and he lets out a shocked chuckle. “Are youspeakingfor her? Do you want to die?” His attention back on Kayla, he holds his arm out in a ‘get a load of this guy’ move like she’s about to eviscerate me, which to be fair, might actually happen.
Kayla is more than capable of handling this on her own, whateverthisis. But she seems stuck in neutral, or more likely, wishing she could reverse time about five minutes and change what’s happening. Same, girl, same. Because I can feel her retreating, pulling away from Riggs and me, even physically holding herself differently and standing more separate from us.
And that’s the last thing I want. I refuse to let her brother fuck this up for us. Or to fuck it up for her, especially after that hot tub confession that she wants this chance with us to be herself. Actually, I want everyone to have the opportunity to get to know Kayla-Unfiltered. I think she’s even more amazing than the curated version of herself she usually showcases. But that won’t happen if this fuckhole—ahem, I mean, her brother whom she loves dearly—keeps asking questions none of us have answers for.
Kayla takes a fortifying breath and steps toward her brother. “He has a point. What I do and who I spend time with is none of your business.”
There you are. You tell him, Harrington.
“Do you even hear yourself?” Kyle scoffs. “You’realways so far up in everyone else’s shit, you probably know what they had for dinner last week, but you think I’m not gonna have a whole list of questions about this?” He gestures from me to Kayla to Riggs. “Hell, Samantha’s gonna want a play-by-play…” He blinks, then adds, “By play.” He feigns retching, sticking his tongue out with a gagging sound. “And Cameron? Whoo, he’s gonna have some shit to say, Miss Face of the Family Company. Oh, but you’d better not breathe a word about this to Dani. One dick is all she needs. And it doesn’t need to be bigger than those silicone novelty ones.” He frowns at Riggs’s crotch again.
“Quit looking at my dick,” Riggs grunts, guarding himself protectively like Kyle might sack tap him.
“Should I be offended you’re not worried about my penis?” I ask blandly.
Kyle’s eyes narrow, and he licks his lip like he’s thinking of something really hurtful to snap back with. But when I don’t flinch at all, he settles for scowling at me.
Uh, about that spiral down the drain? Small potatoes compared to the tornado Kyle is sending through our happy little secret paradise party of three.
“Damn it,” Kayla hisses, her head falling forward. It looks like she’s staring unseeingly at the floor, trying to figure out how best to maneuver out of this shitshow, but I’m pretty sure ‘getting caught mid-threesome by your family’ wasn’t covered in those fancy internships or mentorships. Though maybe in one of those psychology classes? Nah, probably not. This wasn’t in any of our pre-planned scenarios, so winging it with a wish and a prayer is how we’re gonna have to roll.
I glance at Riggs and see that there’s a ticking musclein his jaw where he’s clenching it so hard. Okay, so Kayla’s crashing out and Riggs is retreating to the safety of Asshole-landia, which means this is all on me. My time to shine.
Priority one, Kayla.
