I vaguely remember someone making me take pills last night. Someone taking care of me, when I begged for death to hurry its ass up. What the hell was real?
The music gets louder when I open the door a crack, looking both ways down the hall. Empty. I shut the door, moving to the en-suite bathroom inside the mystery room. It definitely belongs to a man. There’s shaping gels and masculine cologne on the counter. I groan when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
I finger comb my hair taking down my victory curl that looks like it can no longer claim victory at all. A little mouthwash. A quick splash of water to my face and now I’m almost human again. A memory of me puking in a parking lot while someone held me up runs through my brain and I use the mouthwash one more time for good measure.
When I’m about as good as I’m going to get, I leave the bathroom following the sounds of the music. The beat leads me through the living room with a massive blue-sectional couch and an even bigger TV. I cross into the kitchen which, like the rest of the house, is clean without any clutter except for the large kitchen table, scattered with what looks like architecture plans.
There’s a door beside the refrigerator and the music pumps through the hard wood. I tug the t-shirt down even though it reaches my knees. I’m almost terrified of what I’ll find behind this door, but I grab the handle and push through.
I freeze, my mouth hanging open. Pure masculinity—sexy, and sweaty is what my eyes feast on as the door reveals what it’s hiding. The men I watched last night work out their sculpted muscles and I’m not embarrassed at the drool that floods my mouth. The triplets are in the zone and don’t notice they have a voyeur.
Can I just stand here and stare all day long?
My eyes bounce off the two doing cardio. One’s on a treadmill while the other’s on the elliptical, but they stop when I land on my Trifecta. He’s standing in front of a mirror pushing a dumbbell, that looks like it weighs more than me, up and down. When he finishes he switches arms and starts pushing it up into the air.
My breath hitches at the perfect specimen in front of me. I squeeze my legs together as I watch him to ease the pulsing need beginning to form. He’s gorgeous and he’s looking straight at me. Our eyes meet in the mirror, a tiny smirk lights his face as he perurses my reflection. The t-shirt I’m wearing, which is longer than the dress I wore last night, feels inadequate all of a sudden.
With measured movements he puts the dumbbell on the rack and turns around to face me. He grabs a towel and wipes the sweat dripping off his forehead taking a step closer.
“Hey, how are you feeling?”
It takes me a second to understand what he’s asking, since all my thoughts are on the sculpted six-pack moving toward me.
At his question, the other two triplets turn, shooting me a smile. None of them have the same intensity my Trifecta has though.
“I’m not dead,” I say, finally processing what he asked me.
The three of them crack a grin, but I still can’t tear my eyes away from the man who is now standing in front of me.
My heartbeat picks up and I try to remember to breathe.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” he says as his eyes roam over my t-shirt clad body.
“Where are my clothes?”
“I had to wash them. You got sick on your dress.” He smiles at me and my face floods with heat.
“Did you dress me?” I ask, not bothering to look at the other two hoping they’re not listening to us.
“I did. I didn’t think you would want to be naked in my bed. At least while you were just sleeping.” He winks and I have to stop the images blasting against my mind, wanting to show me what it would look like if we weren’t sleeping in his bed.
Then a thought hits me and I suck in a breath. I lean in closer so only he can hear me, “We didn’t sleep together, did we?”
His smile falls. “No.”
“Oh, thank god,” I say.
“Thank god? Believe me, you would be thanking god if we slept together.”
Ha. “I doubt it.”
His eyebrow rises slowly, and a slow grin lazily graces his handsome face. “I don’t. Maybe one day you’ll get to find out.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I smile at the banter, and he smiles back.
“Leave her alone,” the triplet on the elliptical says. He sticks out his hand and I shake it taking my attention off of my Trifecta. “Hi, I’m Damien. This is Axel,” he says, nodding to his other brother.