Wild Like Us (Like Us 8)

Sulli nods. “I’ll feed the animals and meet you both in the bathroom. We can wash off the travel stink.” She’s already gone for the pantry before either of us can point out that we have our own bathroom in our own apartment three-floors down.

I think even if I weren’t dating Sulli, I’d still find a way to stay. To walk that blurry line between friends and her bodyguard like a pro.

The difference now is that I want to wash off with her.

“Take the kitchen first,” I tell Banks, and then I leave them to cover the east side of the penthouse. Checking rooms mostly. Opening doors and closets. I’m quick about the sweep. Every step feels weighted, energy draining.

So by the time I enter Sulli’s bedroom, the rushing water from the bath is the sweetest sound I’ve heard all night.

Steam billows out of the bathroom’s cracked door.

Pausing for a second, I don’t enter right away. I sweep Sulli’s bedroom. Decorated pretty plainly like she spends little time here, except for her bed. Topped with a turquoise velvet quilt, tons of kitschy pillows—shaped like cupcakes, donuts, mermaids, crabs, and more sea creatures—are stacked so high, you can barely see the mattress.

I’m smiling as I open her closet. Pushing aside her striped T-shirts, no one is hiding behind her jackets either. I do another quick sweep of her room.

A weight bench in the corner looks worn-out, scratched, lovingly used. My eyes latch to Sulli’s shelves of medals and trophies. Some of the awards I saw her win. Her Olympic gold medals dangle right next to medals she won in amateur competitions when she was twelve.

I wonder if after tonight, this’ll be the last time I enter her room. If she picks him, I’ll finally make the hard choice and permanently transfer Banks to her 24/7 detail. I’ll throw myself into my companies like I need to do anyway.

Not see her as often.

Barely see her.

Rarely see her.

Pain shoots through me. I grind down on my teeth, and I hear a soft splash from the bath like someone is climbing into the water.

Footsteps sound from the hallway, and I glance at the door as Banks slips into her bedroom. “West side clear,” he says, and his eyes skip to her shelves of medals.

I see the way that Banks looks at them. Like each one is a piece of Sulli he hopes to protect. It’s the same way I look at them. Pride. Love.

Devotion.

It’s clear.

So very clear.

One of us is going to be obliterated.

Banks meets my eyes with the same raw understanding.

There might be pain tomorrow, when she does choose, but tonight there’s a bath. Heat and warmth. Her company. Loss isn’t here yet.

We’re still hanging on.

I run a hand through my hair, then drop it to wave to the bathroom door. “After you,” I say.

Banks smiles. “Even when you let me lead, I’m following.” Before I can reply to that, he’s pushing through.

Hot steam hits my face. A huge, soup-bowl-style bathtub sits underneath an iron chandelier. Sulli’s bathroom is more industrial than elegant. Green planters hang on brick walls, creating a more serene atmosphere.

I was wrong about Sulli already climbing into the bath. Still fully clothed, she’s knelt beside the tub. Her hand dips into the water, testing the temperature.

She looks over her shoulder, seeing us enter. “Oh hey,” she whispers. “It’s still too fucking hot.”

“Why are you whispering?” I ask in a soft voice as I unhook my radio from my waistband.

Banks does the same, winding the cord around the device.

“Fuck, it’s just habit,” she says a little louder. “When I was Luna’s roommate at the townhouse, I tried to be quiet, even if I’m not any fucking good at it.”

Banks eyes the tub, then the shower. “Where do you want us, mermaid?”

“I thought…we could all share the tub.” Flush ascends her neck. “I’m too tired to even stand up in that thing, and you two are probably feeling spent—unless you want to take the shower.”

“I’ll take the tub.” I already pull my dirty shirt over my head.

“It’s good with me, too,” Banks says, shedding his tee. He tosses his shirt at the wicker hamper, but it lands on the concrete-slab sink counter. “Unless, you think my six-seven ass can’t fit.”

Her eyes glitter, lips lift, like she just heard a challenge. “We can all fit.” She rises to her feet and unbuttons her jeans.

Banks and I watch Sulli snap off her bra, slide off her panties—all the while, we’re stepping out of boxer-briefs. Vapor kisses my bare flesh as the three of us stand naked in her bathroom.

I never thought this would happen.

But I’m not shocked that I’m here. Not when the air between us is unfettered and peaceful. Why would I run away from that?

I study the bath for a half-second. Figuring out how to maneuver in it will be like a human puzzle. The tub is striking, almost like the focal point of the room. It could comfortably hold three people, but we’re all six-foot or over.