Page 72 of Hellbent
SINCE I ARRIVED, there had been a rhythm to life here. And then, the moment I learned I could stay, it changed.
Two weeks after the showdown at Ryder’s house, the fact that I’m still here feels tentative. Like the other shoe could drop at any moment.
I’m grateful to still have this place to land, but my hyper-vigilance is in overdrive. How long can it last? How long until I break another one of Wyatt or Ryder’s rules, and then what?
I don’t belong here. Not really. And I know that the second I start to believe I do, the universe will rip it away.
Day to day, I go through the same motions, pretending nothing has changed, but it has. The routines here used to ground me. Now, they only remind me that I have nowhere else to go.
I used to take Wyatt’s presence at the garage for granted. I used to count on him being here—when I woke up, when I fell asleep, always somewhere nearby. But lately, he’s beendisappearing. I hear his bike roaring to life in the early mornings, and then he’s just...gone. A day or two, sometimes three. Damian only shrugs when I ask.
The irony of us being left alone together isn’t lost on me. After everything that happened between us, after Wyatt walking in on us, after the way Ryder looked at me—the judgment, the scorn—and then they leave us alone together again, day after day. We laugh about it, but we both know better than to take the same risk again.
“Better safe than sorry,” Damian says the first morning Wyatt is gone, raking his gaze over my body like my shapeless coveralls are skintight. Then, voice dropping, “Even though I could come right now remembering how hot and tight your ass was.”
But even the push and pull that once felt effortless between us feels different now—our teasing bogged down by restraint. By the weight of not touching each other. And when the garage empties in the evenings, Jake and Damian go up to their house to get as much work in as they can before dark, now that the ground has thawed. Jake, too tired, hasn’t come to my bed since. And I won’t go to Ryder’s house.
I haven’t seen Ryder since that day. I tell myself that’s for the best, because every time we cross paths, it ends in an explosion. I tell myself I don’t care. But I can’t stop thinking about him.
His hand closing around my bicep. The dominance in his voice.“Say that again.”
I’m ashamed of how my mind twists that memory, how it replays in flashes of heat and pressure. Ryder pinning me down. Ryder’s big hands spanking me, holding me in place, using me exactly how he wants. The thought makes my breath go tight.
I’ve never had this much time to myself, never had silence stretch so long. I read serious books from Wyatt’s apartment, flipping through the pages like they hold answers. I keep myhands busy, linger in the garage longer than I need to, as if work can root me here. But I’ve never really been alone before, and the solitude makes me feel scattered and uneasy.
Tonight, at least, it feels more like old times.
It’s Saturday and Wyatt is gone again, but Damian lingers after work. Jake comes over. They don’t talk about framing, for once, or insulation, or all the work that needs to be done. Instead, we sprawl over the plaid couch in the staff lounge, joking and chatting easily.
This is what I’ll miss most one day. The comfort of them, the heat threaded through every glance. Jake’s slow, insinuating smile, the way Damian winks if I catch his eye. The electric promise humming beneath the surface. I feel so lucky to have them both, to be with them both. It’s something rare, something that shouldn’t exist, and I try not to think about a future without it and just let myself enjoy it now, while it’s real.
The energy is taut between us. I feel it when Damian stretches out beside me, his knee brushing mine, or when Jake watches me, his eyes sliding over me with naked interest. We sit and chill like we have so many times before, but with Wyatt away, the air is thick with sexual anticipation.
Jake leans in, his thigh pressed against mine, a smile playing on his lips. “So,” he asks, “you two been behaving while the boss is away? Or have I missed another show?”
I groan, nudging him with my elbow. “Shut up.”
Damian chuckles beside me. “He’s so jealous.”
“How could I not be? Sounds like it was a hell of a time.” Jake tilts his head, eyes glinting as his voice dips lower. “Bet you looked real pretty, baby.”
Electricity buzzes up my spine. Damian shifts closer, his warmth bleeding into my shoulder. “You know she’s been a very good girl since then,” he says to Jake, voice edged with bemusement. “All work and no play.”
Jake tuts, shaking his head. “Shame. We like it when Dirty Maxie comes out to play.”
His fingers graze my thigh, tracing idle circles through the fabric of my coveralls, green eyes flashing with mischief. Damian leans in, his breath warm at the nape of my neck. It still catches me off guard, being the center of their attention like this.
Two men, both circling in, touching, wanting, sharing. When they touch me I forget how to think. The dual sensation lights every nerve. Jake’s hands, Damian’s mouth, the delicious contrast between them. Sensation stacking on sensation.
Jake’s hand brushes across my shoulder, my neck. He tugs at my zipper, peeling my coveralls down my arms. Damian’s lips find my neck, brushing lightly over my skin, licking softly at my earlobe.
Jake palms my breast through my bra, kneading slowly. “Mmm,” he exhales. “So fucking soft.”
Warmth winds through my limbs. Jake’s thumb strokes over my nipple, teasing through the thin lace, while Damian’s mouth kisses a path along my neck.
A soft moan escapes before I can stop it, and that’s all it takes. Jake’s mouth is on mine, his tongue slipping between my lips.
Damian’s hands slip into my coveralls, sliding over my stomach, going low, brushing over the lace of my panties.
