In Between - Page 6

CHAPTER THREE

“FOOD’S READY,” ALEXcalled from the kitchen, carrying the pot of spaghetti to the dining room as I descended the stairs. I followed him into the kitchen and immediately noticed the significant bulge at the front of his gray sweatpants when he turned around. I quickly averted my gaze, but he glanced up and caught my stare. He smirked but said nothing. There was no way he could expect me to not look at that. Damn arrogant, attractive men and their big dicks. He had to have known what he was doing when he put those on.

The large, wooden dinner table in the center of the room was already set with three places, with the pots and pans of food on top of potholders in the middle. Chicken Parmesan, spaghetti, and garlic bread. I was pretty sure I could eat every single thing on the table right then and there now that my hangover was subsiding.

The room was silent as we ate aside from the scraping of forks against plates. The food was incredible, and I hadn’t realized quite how ravenous I was until I had started eating. I quickly finished my first serving, then reached for another. I could see Alex watching me from the corner of his eye while Damien shoveled spaghetti into his mouth at a somewhat alarming rate.

“Do you guys normally eat dinner this early?” I asked. “It’s not even six yet.”

Since Damien’s mouth was still filled with food, Alex answered, his soft, gravelly voice sending pleasant chills down my spine. “We had some business to take care of earlier and didn’t have time to eat.”

“Business? Like what?”

The men quickly exchanged a look, then Alex turned to me with a dark half-smile. “We had to go make amends with the guys at the bar for beating the shit out of that kid in the parking lot,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh. Right.”

“To be fair,” Damien added, his fork in mid-air, “We could’ve done a lot worse. He’s lucky he was still breathing after the shit he pulled.”

“Plus,” Alex said, “we’re pretty good friends with the owner of the bar and a few of the bartenders.” I vaguely recalled the bartender last night addressing Damien by name and telling him to “take it outside.” Alex continued, “When we explained what had happened, the owner was understanding. Even checked the cameras and banned that little dickhead from coming in ever again.”

I nodded, unsure of how to react. “Good.” Looking between them, I decided to ask the question that had been pulling at the back of my mind. “So are you guys brothers? Roommates? A couple? What’s the relationship here?” I was pretty sure they weren’t together based on how Damien had looked at me earlier, but it was still a possibility.

Damien choked on the piece of garlic bread in his mouth, laughing, then answered. “We’re good friends. Though at this point, we may as well be brothers, too. We met when I was 18 and Alex was 16. I had moved out of my parents’ place as fast as possible for some much-needed independence, and Alex was . . . having some issues at home. We happened to meet at a mutual friend’s party, had some interesting conversations, realized we had similar goals in life, and I let Alex move into my dinky little apartment with me soon after. And the rest, they say, is history,” he said with a chuckle. “I guess it’s been ten or eleven years now. Damn. Time flies.” They exchanged reminiscent looks across the table, Alex’s expression showing that there was a much more detailed, significant story there. But I wouldn’t ask about that yet.

Alex shifted in his seat a bit but kept his face blank and unreadable. I did the math in my head. Okay, so if they met when he was 18, and it’s been ten or eleven years, he has to be 28 or 29, and Alex is a couple years younger. Only a few years older than me, then.

I had cleared my plate by now, and the combination of having had a nice, hot shower and now a full stomach, along with the residual tiredness of a hangover, had me feeling sleepy. A yawn inadvertently escaped me. I needed to do something so I wouldn’t fall asleep right here at this table. “You done?” I asked Alex, who was sitting with an empty plate. He nodded, his eyes never once leaving mine, his gaze so intense that I blushed. I grabbed his plate, set it on top of mine, and brought them to the kitchen. I wondered again as I walked down the hardwood floors how two guys in their late-20s would be able to afford a house like this.

Alex trailed not far behind me into the kitchen while Damien finished eating. As I placed the dishes in the sink and began to run the water, his presence closed in behind me.

“You know,” he crooned, his deep, rough voice making my stomach flutter, “I did enjoy what you were saying last night, even if you were drunk and don’t remember it. Makes me wonder if you meant what you said.” His fingers slid lightly across my cheek, pulling my hair back behind my ear, and I took in a sharp breath. He pressed his body against the back of mine, making it impossible to ignore the growing bulge beneath his sweatpants. Something pulled deep inside of me at his words as an image flashed across my mind of him doing unspeakable things to me while I stood here doing dishes. Jesus. “I’d love to know if you still want my cock that bad,” he added.

His face was dangerously close to my own. I couldn’t help but think that if I just turned my head a little to the right, my lips would be on his . . . “I, uh, well—” I stammered. I couldn’t just say, Oh, yeah, you’re sexy as fuck, and I’d love for you to bend me over this counter right here while your best friend finishes his dinner on the other side of this wall.

“I think you want me just as bad as I want you,” he continued, sliding one hand around my hip and resting it on my lower belly.

Thankfully, Damien strolled into the room as I made a fool of myself trying to come up with something to say. “Whatcha doing, Alex? Trying to convince her to stay for Saturday movie night?” he asked with a wolfish grin.

“Something like that,” he muttered, reluctantly taking a step back and turning to help clean off the table.

“Thanks for doing the dishes,” Damien said brightly. “You didn’t have to.”

“I figured it was the least I could do for you two saving my drunk ass, giving me a place to sleep, and feeding me.” I was still reeling from Alex’s words, his touch.

“Fair enough,” he replied, reaching his muscular arms around the side of me to set some more dishes next to the sink. Damn, I wondered, how did I manage to end up in a house with not one, but two hot-as-hell men who, for some reason, seemed to enjoy my presence? “So, what do you think?” he asked.

“About what?”

“About Saturday movie night with your new favorite saviors,” he teased.

Laughing, I replied, “Wow, that whole ‘saving me’ thing went to your head pretty fast.” I wasn’t sure if staying longer was a good idea. It was true that I enjoyed their company so far, with Damien’s joking and flirting and Alex’s sexy, enigmatic personality, but I should have been back to my apartment about twelve hours ago. Not that Leah or anyone else seemed to care where I was.

But, if they wanted me to stay, why shouldn’t I? They were already easier to deal with than Leah, and I barely knew them. But I figured that me barely knowing them also presented a problem; they could be crazy people, luring me into some weird sense of false complacency. Although, with the way Alex talked to me a few minutes ago, I wasn’t sure I would mind even if they were a little crazy. We could have some fun with crazy . . .

“So?” he prompted. Shit, there I was getting lost in my own thoughts again.

I sighed, making a mockingly dramatic show of giving in to his request. “I guess. It depends on what we’re watching though,” I challenged, raising my eyebrows and looking up to meet his gaze.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he beamed. I smiled back in spite of myself.


AFTER QUITE Abit of deliberation, we decided to watch The Amazing Spider-Man. The guys wanted to watch something with action, and I wanted to watch something with an interesting plot (and a cute protagonist). Damien and Alex went to the living room to set up the movie while I grabbed a glass of ice water, figuring I should probably continue to hydrate after last night’s drinking escapade.

It was weird, but I was already feeling comfortable with them. They had gone out of their way to make me feel safe and taken care of, and it was the nicest anyone had treated me in a long time. I checked my phone again, and found that I finally had a text. It was the group chat between Leah, Angie, and me.


Leah: Oh my god, last night was so fun!

Angie: Hell yeah it was. Soooo hungover though.

Leah: Same. But Shawn ended up coming home with me last night and . . . It was a good time

Angie: Ooooh girl, get it!

Leah: @Serena, you good? Saw you talking to that cute guy at the bar before we left.

Tags: Lyla Andrews Erotic
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