Page 47 of Cherry Picking
“Sit on my lap. Not going to bite. Promise.”
Rory cackles and easily settles himself so he’s straddling Griff, and the only reason I’m not losing my mind is because the two of them don’t have an ounce of sexual chemistry between them. They’re both laughter and smiles with Rory’s hands on Griff’s shoulders and Griff’s hands on Rory’s waist.
“Alright, shortie.” Griff tips his head to the side and tugs his collar down. “Gimme your best shot at a hickey.”
Someone growls, and I’m only seventy-five percent certain it wasn’t me. Hawks laughs and reaches over to pat Mashburn on the back, so I’m making my bet the sound came from him.
“Down tiger. I’m sure he’ll give you one next.” His tone is playful, but Rory perks up immediately and swings his head to them.
“Yes, please! Ooh, everyone gets a hickey!”
I don’t know why he’s so excited, but he doesn’t waste time dipping his head to Griff’s neck and getting to work. Griff mostly laughs through it, but then his eyes land on mine and for a moment I see the arousal meant only for me.
He’s teasing me.
Rory hops off Griff’s lap with apopand bounds over to me next. “Clockwise,” he chirps with a grin. “You in, Riley?”
Panic wades at the edge of my mind, but Rory’s light weight resting on my legs brings my focus back in. “It’s okay if you’re not,” he says softly, with a gentle look of understanding.
Rory is safe. My team is safe.
“Go ahead.”
He grins wide and immediately gets to sucking a bruise over my collarbone. It’s quick, dirty, and he’s onto the next before I even register that it’s happened.
Hawks handles the little bundle of energy awkwardly, but ultimately accepts his fate. It’s when he gets to Mashburn that the silent oaf grabs him by the hips and yanks him into his lap. Rory squeaks but laughs as he gives his best friend the same treatment he gave us.
Only he spends more time on him. Makes more noises. And the three of us not currently involved share a fleeting look.
When he’s done, Rory leans back and drapes himself across the table, knocking empty glasses aside but not off the surface entirely.
“All done. What’s my prize?”
He blinks up at us like a doe in headlights if that doe were curious and mischievous.
Griff props an elbow on the table and flicks Rory’s nose. “I don’t suppose ‘fuck your best friend’ is a good joke here?”
Rory is quiet for a moment, but then he flips himself onto his stomach, nearly knocking Mashburn in the face with his knees.
“Hold up. You all know I’m bi, right?”
Crickets would sound like thunder between us all right now.
“Um, no, little man,” Griff says. “We didn’t know.”
Hawks raises his hand. “I suspected.”
“Anyone else want to announce anything while we’re here?”
Mashburn pushes to his feet and picks Rory up by his middle, slinging him over his shoulder. “This one needs to go to bed and sleep off his ridiculous behavior.”
Rory giggles, and I get the feeling the alcohol is really hitting him. “Do you think if I slap his butt I’ll get in trouble?”
Mashburn lifts a hand goodbye as he grumbles, “I wouldn’t, princess.”
Rory pouts but waves as he’s carried out of the bar, leaving us with an odd, tight energy.
“Either those two are fucking or they’re painfully oblivious,” Griff says with a grimace. “I vote for the latter.”
