Page 72 of When It's Us
I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to a relationship if it happened, but I’ve got so much on my plate that it’s not a true priority right now.
“Well, there you go. Seriously, why are you even questioning this?” Finn offers, throwing up a hand.
Wren gasps as if she’s thought of something, making me jump. “Three best friends sleeping with three brothers! What if we all became sisters?”
I choke on another swallow of beer. “Uh-uh.” I shake my head, knowing Wren will run with some romanticized version of what didn’t happen—time to shut this shit down. Especially given the fact that I told him not to tell anyone. If it gets back to him that I told Finn and Wren, he’ll never let me live it down.
“First, I didn’tsleepwith him. We…fucked around a bit.” I shrug. “And second,no oneis talking about marriage. Jesus Christ, the man lives in his van, Wrenley.” I try to cringe at the thought of his old ass VW Vanagon, but something in my chest protests. Just a smidge.
Finn tips her head, pointing her water bottle at me to acknowledge my point. “Not to mention Hutch is allergic to relationships. Hudson says he never even hooks up with the same chick twice.”
I pause, my beer bottle halfway to my mouth.
Wait. What?
Suddenly, all I can hear is the rush of blood in my ears, and my eyes narrow a little, unfocused and dry.
There’s no way that’s true.
Wehooked up twice: once last year and once at Hank and Wren’s wedding six months ago. We literally came together twice in the last two days.
Four. Times.
Granted, none of it was penetrative sex, but last time I checked, four times was still four times.
My heart hammers in my chest. I think Wren is asking me something, but I can’t focus. Why does the thought of being Hutch’sonlyrepeat make me…uncomfortable?Maybe a littlesmug? That unsettled feeling increases. If it’s true that Hutch has never hooked up with the same woman twice, what does it mean if I’m the exception to his rule?
“Can we change the subject now?” I ask, my brain feeling like it’s coming back online.
Either Wren can sense my discomfort, or she’s letting me off the hook because she nods, and Finn follows suit.
We move on to safer topics, like how Finn is decorating the nursery and how Wren is trying to decide if she wants to go back to work part-time with the town veterinary clinic or if she wants to get back into something with horses.
It’s still early, but not long before we’re all yawning and saying our goodnights. Wren and Finn leave with promises to get together soon, and then they’re off, and I’m locking the door behind them.
It’s been a long day, and I want nothing more than a hot shower and to sleep. But as I climb the stairs to the second floor, my mind goes back to our conversation. Even Hutch’s brothers know he doesn’t sleep with the same woman more than once.
So whyme? Whynow?
As I run the shower and strip out of my clothes, I catch sight of myself in the mirror. No makeup, just freckles and corkscrew hair. A satisfied sort of cautious pleasure bubbles up out of me, and I clasp my hand over my mouth, determined to bite it back.
It’s nothing. Right? He’s not looking andI’mnot looking. It’s purely physical attraction, and there is nothing wrong with that. We’re nothing more than two people coming together—multiple times—because of the forced proximity of it all. I bet if Ihad flown into Timber Forge like I originally planned, I wouldn’t see him while I was here. Right?
Right?
Even as I try to fit the pieces together, the image of that giant man above me flashes in my mind, and that unsettled, disorienting affection for him settles into my gut.
Because the truth is, I can joke with Wren and Finn all day long, but knowing I may be the only repeat for the man with a six-month starring role in my nightly masturbation fantasies? I can’t honestly say the news doesn’t have me curious.
Hutch
Igripmycockin the dark, groaning low. There’s no way in hell this isn’t happening tonight. My balls feel heavy and ready to explode.
Hand moving on autopilot, I spit into my palm and bring it back to my dick, tucking my boxers under my aching balls with the other. Fisting my length, I let my mind wander back to the first night with her out at Hank's.
I grind against her, the bulge in my jeans pressed against her ass. It’s rough and filthy, but the way her hand grabs my cock through the denim tells me everything I need to know. She hates me—but she wants this just as bad. Maybe more.
The backs of her thighs hit the makeshift workbench I’ve been using to cut wood floor planks at Hank’s house. I spin her flush with my chest and growl into her ear, my voice rough and low. “You’re. Not. In. Charge.”
