Page 45 of Dubious Match
FELIX
The house is so clean, you could eat off the floors if you wanted to. I’m nervous about Hollis coming over, and while Brice and Malcolm cooked, my brother and I stress cleaned.
Now, I’m pulling on a dark blue, long sleeved Henley shirt with jeans after showering as I tell myself dinner will go fine. Everyone will behave themselves, no one will throw her onto the table to eat her pussy instead.
Yep, that’s honestly a possibility. The four of us have all mourned the scent of her perfumed invitation, and a few days ago we all complained that Brice didn’t think to steal something that smells like her.
Fuck, we really do have it bad for her.
Sitting, I pull on a pair of brown dress socks and boots. My hair is short enough that I don’t have to run a comb through it. Instead, I make sure I look okay.
“Your ass looks great, come down already,” Brice says, popping his head into the room.
“Very funny,” I sigh, glancing at him. I’m not the only one who changed their clothes. He’s wearing blue pants with the knees ripped out and a beige sweater that is stretched tight against his chest and shoulders.
Fuck, he looks really damn good.
“Nope,” he says, “you need to stop staring at me like that or you’re going to become dinner.”
His voice is deeper as he says this and I shiver as I grin.
“Yes, sir,” I tease him, walking out of the room to fall into step with him.
“Don’t say that to me when you look like a walking wet dream,” he grumbles as we jog down the stairs.
Things have been so busy, I don’t think any of us have had sex in over a week. I don’t blame Malcolm for having a quickie in Remy’s office. At least he’s in a much better mood now.
The four of us are hyper sexual beings. Since we created the company, it’s just become worse. All we want to do is fuck, and no, that hasn’t diminished the longer we’ve been together.
I think our sex drives are even worse now than they were in college.
The scent of lasagna smacks me in the face as I walk into the kitchen, and I groan as I inhale better.
“No sex noises while eating,” Malcolm chuckles.
He’s wearing a rusty brown sweater with his jeans, his hair its usual mess. I doubt he’ll ever be able to tame it. He runs his fingers through it too often, but the freshly fucked look really works for him.
“Where’s Remy?” I ask, watching as Malcolm pulls fresh rolls out of the oven. God, is it terrible if I swipe one before dinner?
He makes the best damn bread.
“I’m here,” Remy says breathlessly. “I think she’s pulling into the driveway now.”
“She is,” Mal says. “I opened the gate for her.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod. “Fuck, is anyone else nervous?”
“Oh yeah,” Mal admits. “I’ll answer the door. The oven is off and just keeping the food warm now. Can someone turn the mini heaters on outside? I figure we can eat on the patio since it’ll probably end up snowing next week.”
“I’ll do it,” I volunteer, heading out. It appears that someone has already put down a tablecloth and set the table.
Unlike others, we are very domesticated. I think there’s this idea that as four men who live together, we must be slobs or something. The truth couldn’t be farther from that. Our home is where we relax at the end of the day.
Having it overly cluttered or messy just doesn’t make sense when it would give us all anxiety.
Turning on two of the space heaters, I decide to let it warm up before adjusting it. My finger flips on the garden lanterns that are spaced out around the yard, smiling as the warm glow lights up everything. The sun has almost completely set, so this will be perfect.
Walking inside the house, I follow the sound of voices. Hollis smiles as she talks with my pack, holding a bottle of wine that she hands to Malcom. She’s wearing a long sleeved pink sweater dress underneath a cream coat, and I wonder how she manages to stay warm.
