Hot 4 (Multiple Love)

"What choice?" I think that's Harris asking. "Looks like she's out of options right now."

"I asked her if she wanted to get dressed and have a tour or stay naked and wait for you guys."

"And what did she reply?" Kane says.

"She didn't yet."

"Connie?"

Now eight eyes must be on me, waiting, and I don't know what to do. I'm horny as hell but also feel like putting my clothes back on and chilling out with the guys. What do I say?

"I think Connie needs to get dressed. We've got all night to peel her clothes off again, and I don't know about you guys, but I need a shower before I get up close with our beautiful new housemate." Trust Karter to be thinking practically.

"But she looks so perfect like that. I could just run my tongue between her legs, just to get a taste," Kane says.

"One taste won't be enough," Harris laughs, and I marvel at how well I can identify them by their voices.

"I actually need to pee," I say, hoping to lighten the mood, and it works. The room is filled with laughter, and Holden removes my mask, stroking my cheek gently. I blink into the brightness, finding my four men surrounding me. As Holden removes the ties from my wrists, I smile broadly.

Karter reaches for my underwear and Kane for the shirt and jeans. I dress in front of them, noticing their eyes burning with arousal and the very obvious bulges in their pants. They have a lot of restraint not to immediately pounce on me, but that just makes me feel relieved.

This isn't just about sex to them. This about building a partnership. It's about making a life that won't leave me with a sinking feeling whenever I think about going home.

"Who's going to show me where the bathroom is?" I ask as I fasten the last button on my blouse.

"I will," Karter says. "This way."

Behind the stairs, there's a door leading into a plush, hotel-style guest bathroom, complete with slate tiled floor and marble vanity. When I've clicked the lock into place, I glance at myself in the mirror and then bring my hands up, resting my forehead in my palms.

I'm really here, I think. I've really done this. And out there are four men who are now my boyfriends. I mean, people don't live with their fuck buddies. Fuck buddies are booty-called at 2 am on the way home from the club. Girlfriends have their own closet and a drawer in the bathroom. Girlfriends have a section to file their paperwork in the office.

Boyfriends drive hours to collect their girlfriends' personal possessions. Boyfriends choose to chill with their girlfriends rather than opting for sex.

Four boyfriends. Whoa.

As I pee, I try to imagine this being my bathroom, the den out there becoming a place where I feel totally at ease. Could it be like that? Really?

When I've washed my hands, I head back out into the open-plan space, finding Holden on the sofa watching sports. "They're all getting washed. Shall I do the tour now?"

"Sounds good."

"Okay."

Holden leads me into the kitchen, taking time to show me where things live in the cupboards. Either he doesn't remember that I warned them about my lack of cooking expertise, or he hopes I was joking. He opens the door into the yard, and the outdoor space takes my breath away. There's a large decked area, edged with pots of plants, and a grassy space surrounded by mature trees that block the view beyond. It's private and perfect. In the corner of the decked area stands a hot tub.

"This is my favorite part of the house," Holden says. "In the afternoon, this area is shady, and if I'm here, I grab a beer and a book and kick back.

"I saw the books in there. Are they all yours?"

"Me and Karter read the most, but the others do too. Our mom was a big reader. She was an English professor."

"Wow, that's so cool." I don't miss the “was” in his statement. In all of our previous conversations, they've mentioned their father in passing, but nothing about their mother. It's on the tip of my tongue to ask, but something about the way Holden turns to gaze out into the yard after mentioning her, sliding his hands into his pockets, makes me think that it's not the right time. If she passed away, maybe it's still raw. I don't want to open old wounds.

"Want to show me upstairs?" I ask, sliding my hand into his elbow nook.

He turns, gazing down at me with wide sapphire eyes that seem more watery than usual. "Sure. Let's go explore the rest."

I release his arm and follow him back into the house, ascending the stairs and taking everything in. There are photos all over the place. Images of the brothers as kids perched on a wooden step; faded pictures blowing out candles on matching birthday cakes wearing matching dungarees; later photos on beaches and in bars, their arms slung around each other's shoulders. They always seem to be together—one big happy family.