Page 142 of What We Brave
Sex. Fucking. Sinking in.
"I don't understand." She shakes her head. "I thought there would be more... jealousy. From both of you. Reid seemed fine last night too, even when we talked about—" She cuts herself off.
"About me?"
"About... all of it."
Heavy footsteps on the stairs. Reid appears behind her, hair sticking up at odd angles, eyes still half-closed. He drops a kiss on top of her head without breaking stride.
"'S too early," he mumbles, heading for the coffee maker. "Why are you both awake? Blake's a freak. But you baby? You should be in bed."
"Hungry," Laine says.
She's staring at my chest again. I catch her doing it and she doesn't look away this time. Just lets her eyes trace the lines of my shoulders, my arms, the muscles across my stomach.
Fuck.
The inside of my skin feels too small. Like there's something trying to claw its way out.
"Toast. Eggs," Reid says. Apparently full sentences are hard.
Laine looks between us. "So neither of you are... jealous? At all?"
Reid shrugs, pulling bread from the cabinet. "Weird, right? ThoughtI'd want to punch something. Instead I just..." He waves a hand vaguely. "Don't."
"Maybe because it's not behind anyone's back," I offer. My voice sounds steadier than I feel. "We all know what's happening. No secrets."
"Or maybe we're all just broken in compatible ways." Reid drops bread in the toaster. "Eggs?"
Laine nods, still looking dazed. "Please."
He cracks eggs into a pan. The sizzle fills the kitchen.
I can't stop staring at her. The way the morning light catches in her hair. The marks on her skin—his and mine.
How deep was he?—
No.Don't.
I shut that thought down hard. I might be mostly okay with this, but I'm not going to fucking fixate. Not going to ruin it. I drag my eyes to the window. The trees. Anything that isn't her standing barefoot in my kitchen wearing another man's shirt with my bite mark on her neck.
It doesn't work. Nothing works. She's right there. Five feet away and it might as well be five inches for how much space my brain is giving me.
I close the distance between us. Two steps. She tips her head back to look at me.
"Blake?"
I lean in. Breathe her in. Sweat and sex and something floral—her shampoo, maybe. Underneath it all, Reid. His soap. His sheets.
And her. That scent that's justLaine.
I brush my lips against her temple. Her jaw. The corner of her mouth. Each point of contact costs me something. Each one makes it harder to stop.
"You smell like sex," I murmur against her skin.
Her whole face goes scarlet. "I—Blake?—"
She's trembling. Not fear—I know what that looks like. This is something else. Overwhelmed. Overloaded.
