Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63741 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 212(@300wpm)
Instead of getting out of my system, these men have wormed their way in deeper, because I swear I can feel desire running through my veins.
By the time Griffin and Frank get home, Zeb has roasted asparagus, seared the cooked steak in a cast iron skillet, and made mashed potatoes in a way that was more complicated than I’d ever seen, but that ends up being well worth the extra fuss. They are, in fact, the best mashed potatoes I’ve ever tasted in my life. Griffin and Frank seem to agree.
“Can we just designate you all-time cook, Zeb?” Griffin asks as the four of us feast at the dining room table.
“Much as I’d enjoy not eating your food, I don’t want to do this every night.”
“He put a lot of work into all this.” I’m looking at Zeb when I say this, but when I turn back to the other two men, Griffin is eyeing us both suspiciously. To my relief, he doesn’t say anything. I still plan on telling him—and Frank—what happened this evening, but this doesn’t seem like the right place or time.
It may not make sense in the real world, but in the part of my brain that enjoys bookkeeping, I decide that since I had sex with Zeb again, it’s only fair that I have sex with Griffin and Frank again, too. Just to even things out. Or, at least Frank, since Griffin was one-up on the other men from the beginning.
Yes, I know the whole arrangement doesn’t belong on a scorecard, but the idea gives me an excuse to continue with them just a little longer, because the thought of going to bed by myself tonight makes me sad.
GRIFFIN
“You and Zeb had sex today, didn’t you?”
The question has been nagging at me ever since I got home, so I corner Ember the first chance I get.
She pauses, her eyes bright as she looks up at me, and I know the answer before she speaks. “What gave it away?”
I shrug. “I just knew.”
“I was going to tell you.”
I shrug again. She seems faintly guilty about it, but I’m not bothered. In fact, it’s a hopeful sign. “Was it good?”
When she swats at my chest, I capture her hand and kiss the tips of her fingers. “Not as good as me. I know.”
She pulls away, but she’s giggling.
Later that night, when Ember’s in her room studying, I knock on her open door. “How’s it going?”
She’s already in her pajamas, sitting on the bed, her hair piled on the top of her head in a loose bun. “C’mon in. I’m having a hard time focusing.”
There’s an open spot at the foot of the bed, so I take a seat. “It must be a lot, keeping up with school when you work full time.”
“It can be tiring.”
“I could help you relax.”
She smirks and shakes her head. “I’ll bet you could.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” She stacks her notepad on top of her tablet and puts them aside. Looks like study time is over.
“I give excellent massages.”
“Is that right?”
“Want me to show you?”
She glances toward her open door, then bites her lip. “It’s hard to say no to a massage.”
I squeeze her knee and rub the spot to give her a sample. “There’s no reason to say no.”
“I haven’t talked to Frank yet, about what happened with Zeb.”
“He knows.”
Her brows shoot up. “Zeb told him?”
“Frank’s pretty tuned in to you. He suspected, and I confirmed it, since you said you were planning to tell him.”
“I just want everything out in the open among the four of us. I don’t want things to be weird.”
My hand moves up to the back of her neck, where it presses into the tight muscles I find there. “You worry too much. Things aren’t going to be weird.”
“This wasn’t supposed to go beyond one night.”
“Why would you want to stop when things are so good?”
Her head falls back when I move behind her and add a second hand. “There are multiple reasons, but I can’t quite think of them right now. Oh my god, Griffin, that feels so good.”
There’s nothing I love more than doing things that make Ember say that, and though there are other ways I prefer to elicit that response, right now she needs to relax. Though my housemates and I had her plenty relaxed last night, I know the situation seems complicated from her perspective.
I hope she comes to realize that it doesn’t need to be.
“Want to lie down? I can get your back better.”
She glances at me over her shoulder, her voice low. “Close the door.”
“As you wish.” When I return to the bed, she’s lying face down, her ass looking more delicious than all the food Zeb made for dinner.
I resume the massage, stroking upward from her waist, to her shoulders, down her arms, to her hands and fingers.