Then, something occurred to me. “How long does it take you to get ready?”
At the same time, both men replied, “Depends on whether I shave or not.”
Then they yelled, “Jinx,” at the same time, followed by, “No, you jinx. I won the jinx.”
It was creepy.
That creepiness was added to when Jackson sat up in bed just as Marcus leaned forward, and both of them roared, “Jinx, no returns.”
Thankfully, it was broken by Marcus growling, “If Sasha wasn’t broken, I’d jump on you and show you who the master is.”
I don’t know what possessed me to say it, but I wish I hadn’t. “That sounds perverse, but you could probably earn a lot of money from it.”
Both men turned to look at me with the same expression on their faces, but it was Jackson who broke the silence that had me wishing—yet again—that I was able to run for my life.
“You’re like a chameleon, aren’t you?”
Picking at the comforter and hoping my cheeks weren’t as red as they were hot, I mumbled, “I don’t know what you mean.”
I heard the door shut, but didn’t raise my head, not even when he leaned over on the mattress and braced his fists on either side of my hips, meaning his face was right near mine.
“You know exactly what I mean, Sasha. And know what else? I kind of like it. I keep my life as predictable and organized as possible, and I make sure everything’s in a perfect row.
“But your unpredictability, your ability to change to whatever’s going on around you and find gaps that were made for you in my life without me realizing it, is something I like.”
It was like my brain just died as I desperately tried to come up with something to fire back at him, but aside from headbutting him as I threw myself off the bed, I wasn’t getting anything useful.
Leaning into me even more, he ran his nose from my temple down to my cheek. “And I like your crazy, unruly hair. A lot.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I wondered if it was possible for a human being’s body to combust. If it was, would my casts do it too? And if they did, would they hurt him, like cast shrapnel?
Not saying another word, Jackson withdrew and got out of bed.
I might not have been able to talk and function like a normal person, but that didn’t mean I didn’t open my eyes to look at him as he walked into the en suite bathroom.
It also meant I couldn’t hold in the quiet groan that slipped out of me at the sight of his ass encased in tight jersey underwear, the cheeks scissoring as he walked, and the muscles tensing and relaxing as he ran his fingers through his hair.
And, no, it still didn’t move out of place. And I knew that because I saw his reflection in the mirrored wall opposite the door after he opened it, affording me a full frontal view of the package I’d just been admiring.
Including another package, farther down his body, also encased in the tight jersey underwear made by the most brilliant people ever to exist. It was like they’d created a hammock for his dick and balls to rest on that presented them up as an offering.
The longer he stood there, watching me watching him, I swear the package grew.
“Yeah,” he murmured, breaking me out of the almost hypnosis I was under. “I like this.”
Given that I couldn’t talk and could only look, it was just as well that his mom knocked on the door at that moment.
“I’m making breakfast. I know you said you were left handed and were struggling yesterday, Sasha, so I’m making pancakes because they’re easy to cut up. Wyatt’s just running out for some other stuff like bacon and eggs, though, because Jackson sucks and has practically nothing in. Is there anything else you need, honey?”
Never in my wildest dreams had I expected this when I’d come here. Hell, I hadn’t even expected it when I was a kid, and Jackson was just a ‘good looking boy.’
I might be muddled up about my feelings about him, but I loved his family and how considerate his mom was being.
But it hammered home something—I needed to tell my dads what’d happened. I had a valid reason for not telling them, but I missed them and knew they’d want to know. They’d probably come here to help out, too, and I suddenly needed their hugs and some advice.
I’d been given the world’s best dads, without a doubt. They’d know what to do.
The problem was, I’d dug myself a ditch by not telling them after the accident. Now I’d have to do that, apologize, try and explain it to them, and then ask them for man advice for the first time in my life.