Page 23 of Avalanche
I swallow.
Antoine adjusts the tight denim stretched across his lap, his gaze fixed ahead, as if he doesn’t dare look at me for this conversation. I’m grateful for it. Grateful that he can’t see the way my lips part on breathless excitement at his question, that he can’t see the frantic hammering of my pulse at my throat.
Fear and desire. I’m not sure which is stronger, but I want to clamp my fist around both of them. Rein these feelings in, control them.
“We don’t even know if he’s bi,” I argue weakly. “We don’t even know if he’s interested in either of us.”
Antoine makes a tsking sound of disapproval at this response and my cheeks tighten at the ridiculousness of my own argument. Of course he’s interested in us. No one looks at someone like he does without being interested.
“We… we could explore.” I scrub at my face, as if that would somehow erase the prickling heat burning my skin. “You know. Do more of what we did this morning.” I clear my throat, wave one hand in front of me for emphasis, as if the movement will somehow explain everything.
I make the mistake of glancing in Antoine’s direction and he fixes me with a sharp look, one brow lifting in silent accusation. I glare back at him. He knows I hate this shit. Talking about stuff like this.
“And if I fuck him?” Antoine’s lips quirk as he repeats his earlier question, green eyes flashing with delight at my discomfort. “If that’s where this exploring leads—what then?”
My mouth goes dry, possessive jealousy rushing forth, making my stomach twist. But something else twists alongside it, twining like a pair of serpents locked in a battle. Something hot that has the blood rushing to my balls, has something tightening at the base of my spine.
I imagine Matty pressed beneath Antoine, on his back, thick muscled legs spread wide, that flush spreading down his throat, his stomach quivering as Antoine thrusts into him. I imagine wrapping my hand around that throat, slanting my lips to his, swallowing the sound of his pleasure. He wouldn’t close his eyes—he’d stare wide-eyed like a startled deer into my own, just like he did this morning. Like he couldn’t believe what was happening to him, couldn’t believe that he liked it, that he wanted more.
I imagine sinking my cock between those kiss swollen lips, the way those blue eyes would blink back tears as he chocked around me, his throat constricting as he tried to swallow me down.
“Yeah,” I rasp, shifting in my seat in an attempt to hide the evidence of my arousal. “Yeah. That’s fine.”
Tension hangs heavy in the air by the time Lily and Matty emerge from the shower, wrapped in towels and gleaming pink from the heat. They must sense it, because they both stop outside Lily’s room, frozen like prey animals as they shoot Antoine and I inquisitive looks.
“Have a good shower?” Antoine asks in that way he does, where you don’t know if he’s teasing or being sincere.
Matty nods, tightening the hold on the towel wrapped around his waist.
“What are you guys thinking of doing this afternoon?” Lily asks, looking between me and Antoine, then glancing wistfully towards the grime coated window.
As if I don’t know what that means. As if I don’t know she’s been desperate to get out on the snow all day today despite her promises that she’ll rest. I lift my brow at her. She gives me a defiant look in reply.
“Well,” I drawl, rising to stand. Slowly, carefully, my eyes fixed on her. “We could always do you.”
Her eyes widen, a choked reply catching in her throat as sun-kissed cheeks flame red.
“Subtle,” Antoine deadpans from the couch.
I step forward, ignoring him. I’m done being subtle. I was never good at it, just like I was never good at all that talking stuff, either. I’ve always just taken what I wanted.
I suspect Lily is the same, even if she doesn’t completely realize it yet. I’ve seen the way she trains, relentlessly chipping away at every self-perceived failing. The way she faced Tom, back when he was living with us, the fucker. I’ve seen the way she deals with all of us.
“What?” she squeaks.
Her hands tighten on her towel, pulling it against her chest. Her hair, coiled and clipped up on her head so it would stay dry in the shower, wobbles precariously as she takes a step back.
“You heard me.”
I’m standing directly in front of her now, close enough to breathe in the fresh soap scent of her. I take a deep inhale, relishing it, letting the familiar scent calm the nervous thundering behind my ribs, then cast Matty a questioning look.
His throat bobs in answer, a faint quiver shuddering across his bare chest.
“Unless you have somewhere you need to be,” I add teasingly, daring her to suggest going out to train again.
She narrows her eyes at me, tilts her chin up in defiance.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, ma puce,” Antoine interjects unhelpfully from behind me. “Feel free to tell him to fuck off.”
