Page 116 of Sexting My Best Friend's Brothers
“We brought you back to life,” Asher says softly. He’s lying on my other side, his hand resting flat on my stomach, right over the place where Owen just finished.
I look at them—my bosses, my best friend’s brothers, my men.
I should feel guilty. I should feel ashamed. I should be running for the hills.
But as I close my eyes, surrounded by their scent and their heat, I only feel one thing.
Home.
The bedroom is quiet as the afternoon sun slants through the blinds, casting stripes of light across the wreckage of the bed. The sheets are twisted, stained, and halfway on the floor.
We moved to the living room. Or rather they moved me. I’m currently wearing Ethan’s discarded dress shirt and sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. I’m sore in places I didn’t know existed. My inner thighs ache with a dull, sweet throb. Every time I shift, I feel the evidence of what we did. The wetness. The fullness.
It’s a constant, visceral reminder that I belong to them now.
Owen is in the kitchen, making something that smells like eggs and bacon. He’s wearing his boxers and nothing else, whistling tunelessly. He moves with a lightness that wasn’t there this morning, flipping a spatula with a flourish.
Ethan sits in the armchair, fully dressed again minus the tie, typing on his phone. But every few seconds, he looks up to check on me. His gaze is possessive, dark, and protective. He looks like a lion watching the perimeter.
Asher sits on the floor by my feet, his laptop open on the coffee table. He’s running a diagnostic on my car remotely, or hacking the Pentagon, I’m not sure. His hand rests absently on my ankle, his thumb rubbing circles over the bone.
It feels… domestic.
It feels insane.
“Here,” Owen says, walking in with a plate. “Scrambled eggs, toast, and the last of your orange juice. You need protein.”
He hands me the plate and sits next to me on the couch, stealing a piece of toast before I can take a bite.
“Thanks,” I say, my voice raspy.
“How’s your throat?” Ethan asks, looking up from his phone.
I flush, remembering the feeling of Owen’s cock stretching my mouth, tasting his pre-cum on my tongue. “Sore.”
“I’ll get you some tea,” Asher says, standing up immediately.
“I’m fine, Ash. Sit down.”
He sits back down, but he rests his hand on my ankle again. It’s a point of contact. He needs to know I’m still here.
I eat the eggs quickly. I’m starving. I feel like I just ran a marathon. The food tastes incredible.
“So,” I say between bites, wiping a crumb from my lip. “What now?”
All three of them go still. Ethan puts his phone down on the armrest. Owen stops chewing. Asher looks away from his screen.
The air in the room shifts, becoming heavy with the weight of the future.
“Now,” Ethan says, “we figure out the logistics.”
“The logistics of… us?” I ask.
“Yes,” Ethan says. “This wasn’t a one-time thing, Tessa. You know that. We crossed the line. We burned the bridge.”
I look at the mess of boxes surrounding us. I think about Harper, about how much I love her, and how completely I just betrayed her trust.
“I know,” I whisper.
