Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43536 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 218(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
A tear seeped out of the corner of my eye against my will. He brushed it away with his thumb. The ache in my chest opened up, the feeling of being wanted and cherished just gutting me. I put a hand over my mouth and stifled a sob. He pulled me into his arms like I had known he would. His arms were the safest thing I’d ever known. I’d never be able to resist that, the dangerous sensation of being cared for and wanted by either or both of these men.
“Ok,” I whispered, “I’ll stay. But you have to promise to kick me out if I stay too long or become a nuisance.”
“Never,” he said, “Leo gets on my nerves all the time, and I let him stay. You can sleep here tonight, and we’ll get a lock on that door and your stuff moved in tomorrow. I’ll sleep on the couch. It’s big and comfy.”
“No, I’m not kicking you out of your bed. You can sleep in here. I’ll take the couch,” I insisted, my eyes drifting shut as I leaned against him.
I promised myself as I fell asleep that I’d never do anything to hurt them. That I wouldn’t let a hint of my attraction spill out to cause trouble. They were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I would walk through fire before I came between them. I valued their friendship with me and with one another too deeply to ever risk that.
6
Rafe
She hadn’t lived with us for three weeks before I noticed that we were all staying home every night. Lexi had picked up Thai food after work. We ate it on the sectional in front of some stupid reality show she had us watching. We passed the cartons back and forth comfortably, eating out of each other’s containers. Her bare feet were on my leg. I set my carton down and rubbed her foot, massaging her slim ankle and under her heel until I felt the tension drain out of her. “Mmm,” she said, “that’s even better than these noodles. But now you have to go wash your hands because you touched my foot.” She wrinkled her nose. It was pretty damn cute.
I was so tempted to take her foot in my hands, raise it to my face and lick the arch in one luxuriant stroke just to feel her shiver. She would. A shudder would go through her whole body. I knew how sensitive she was to touch, how starved she was for it. Sometimes I had trouble not crossing that line. I wanted to make her feel good. At night I’d hear her get up to get a drink of water or something and have to make myself stay in my room. If I got up and found her in the kitchen in some little white scrap of a nightgown—my palms itched with the thought of taking her in my hands and making her moan.
“When was the last time you went out, Leo?” I asked him as he stole a noodle from Lexi’s carton.
“I went out last Tuesday night with the guys at work. How about you?”
I shrugged, “Penny came by and asked me out this morning.”
“Who’s Penny?” Lexi said around a mouthful of noodles. “Do I need to set a place for her tomorrow night?”
“Nah. I told her we were making dinner. It was our Thursday thing.”
“Since when do we have a Thursday thing? Is it like our family tradition?” Leo teased.
“It’s my week to cook. You’re in charge of salad, Lexi’s doing dessert. Remember?”
“I remember she cooked for us the first week she lived here. God almighty, I haven’t had a roast like that since my abuela passed away. Where’d you learn to cook like that anyway?”
“Group home,” Lexi said. “We cooked on a rotating schedule. I had read in some magazine that one of the workers left there about a traditional family Sunday dinner. I figured none of us ever had that, so I always made Yankee pot roast. It was a nice change from the casserole with chips on top that most of them cooked. I liked to save recipes from the magazines I ran across.
“How long did you live in a group home?” I asked her.
“Six years. People only want to foster little cute kids. It’s hard to convince somebody that they should take in a teenager, especially when we’ve all had to struggle to survive and that creates some habits that are—not adorable,” she rolled her eyes. “So being a social worker, it’s a good fit for me because I can sort of coach up the kids on expected behaviors and explain to the families what they may be dealing with. I think of it like being a translator almost. Helping them understand each other.”