Their Boy (The Game 2)

Lucas was extremely handsome as always in a suit, sans jacket, and Colt dressed for the occasion—reluctantly, I bet. He didn’t look tremendously comfortable in his button-down, but damn did he look hot in it. It was black and hugged his body, suntanned forearms exposed for ogling.

I clutched the cuffs of my own button-down, still too apprehensive to show my arms. I was so stupid.

Lucas spotted me first and nudged Colt, and I smiled widely and closed the distance between us.

“Hi.” I came to a stop in front of them, a little unsure of how to greet them—oh, never mind. They knew. Colt yanked me in for a tight hug and a kiss to my forehead.

I melted a bit. The rock in my stomach shrank.

“I reckon it’s safe to say I can’t go two days without seein’ you again,” he told me, the city lights twinkling in his sea-green eyes. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” I grinned shyly and pressed a quick kiss to his neck, and right then and there, I almost died. His cologne hit my nostrils. Jesus Christ, he smelled amazing.

Lucas slipped his hand around mine, and I easily fell into his arms. He was the calm. He always radiated structure and safety.

“How’s our boy?” he murmured.

“Better now.” I smiled when he dipped down to kiss me, and I kissed him back and cupped the back of his neck. I wanted to sniff him too, but they had dinner on their minds. Colt took the lead while Lucas held on to my hand, and we stayed in the background.

“Table for three under West,” Colt told the host.

It would be ten minutes, we were told. So the three of us huddled near the exit with people coming, going, and waiting around us.

A red glow from the lights in the ceiling was cast over the restaurant, and everyone looked like they were having a good time. Envy didn’t burn in my chest. I was just…happy. Happy to be out, happy to see people, happy to be with two wonderful men. A lot of men were here with other men, though that wasn’t strange, given the neighborhood we were in.

After a minute or two, one of the small stools along the half wall in the entrance became available, and Colt took a seat and patted his thigh for me.

“I didn’t get to go out for ice cream with y’all yesterday,” he said. “Get over here.”

I snickered and sat down on his lap, and he snaked his arms around my middle.

“Let that be a lesson,” I told him over my shoulder. “You should have meetings in Georgetown.”

Lucas’s eyes shone with approval. “Excellent response.”

“All right, all right, let’s not gang up on the poor Texan,” Colt said. “Give me your arms. There’s no reason for you to hide your sexy tats.”

I swallowed hard as a rush of insecurities smacked me in the face, though I didn’t say anything. I let him fold up the sleeves of my shirt and expose my arms.

When it was done, Lucas leaned down, cupped my cheeks, and kissed me softly. “Be proud of everything you’ve survived, Kit.”

I exhaled shakily and made a conscious effort not to look around me. I didn’t want to see if anyone was staring, if anyone could see right through me. Because one, it was all in my head. And two, no one else should matter.

I had to get a grip already.

Colt scratched my neck gently, probably feeling the tension in me. “Tell me why it’s bad to have scars, baby. You’ve seen mine.”

I had. I’d seen them, felt them. All across his left hip.

“Will you tell me how you got them sometime?” I asked, turning on his lap so I was sideways across his thighs.

He nodded once. “Sure.”

I put one arm around his shoulders and played absently with his ear as I thought about my response. “I think…for me, they show too much. I don’t know. I look broken. I don’t care about the scars on their own—it’s what they reveal. There are some things I don’t want people to know without my consent. There’s no choice for me. I don’t get to decide when I’m okay with telling that story. My ugly skin does it for me.”

“Hey.” Colt gripped my chin, and I caught Lucas’s frown in the corner of my eye. I barely reacted. It was tiring talking about my scars…and whatever. Just whatever. I wanted to forget and move on, though that was another thing the scars prevented me from doing. Always that fucking reminder.

“I think we should change the topic now,” I said stiffly.

Colt didn’t release my chin. “And I think you do as we say, Kit. Don’t test me on this. I don’t care where we are, you hear? You won’t talk about yourself like that.”

I flushed with embarrassment and swallowed audibly. The severity was all in his stare. He didn’t get worked up for no reason in these situations. He’d just shown he had no problem taking things a step further if he felt the need.