The Raven Game by Jessica Sorensen

Raven

Iwish I could remember more about the game, because the bits and images I can recall are way worse when I can’t remember what ultimately happened. For all I know, the game could not be nearly as bad as what I’m thinking. Then again, it could be worse.

As Zay, Hunter, and I make our way out of my room and through the maze of hallways that make up their house, my thoughts drift to what I can recall.

Monsters.

Madness.

Blood on my hands.

I’m starting to wonder if I was a killer even before I was suspected of murdering my parents. Maybe whatever’s about to happen to me is deserved.

“You’re quiet,” Zay comments as we walk down the hallway.

Hunter is walking on the other side of me, and no one has spoken since we left the room, so the sound of Zay’s voice startles me.

“So is everyone else.” I still have my arm wrapped around my midsection, not wanting even an inch of my scars to show.

“I know, but you’re usually asking a ton of questions,” he points out, stuffing his hands into his back pockets. Then his gaze drops to where my arm is. “And you haven’t moved your arm from there since you walked out of the closet.”

“I noticed that, too,” Hunter says, inching closer to me.

Damn. I thought no one had noticed.

“So, what’s wrong?” Hunter asks after a handful of seconds go by where no one says anything.

I lift a shoulder, but my muscles are wound up tight. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little uncomfortable in this outfit. Or, well, the part where …” I sigh heavily at the fact that I’m being insecure. “I just don’t like that a small part of one of my … scars are showing.”

Hunter’s expression softens. “Baby, no one can see it, I promise.”

“And, even if they did, no one would say anything,” Zay tells me. “I’d fucking kill them if they did.”

I look at Zay with my brow arched. “You’re gonna kill anyone who says anything about my scars?”

His gaze sears into mine. “You say that like you don’t believe me.”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Okay, maybe I do believe you, but it seems kind of extreme.”

He shrugs. “I think you already know I do things to the extreme.”

“True.” I dither. “Well, you don’t need to kill anyone. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Sucking in a deep breath, I woman up and lower my arm, trying to pretend to be all badass. I mean, just hours ago, I was fighting off monsters, so this should be a piece of cake, right?

Apparently, the monster inside of me is a lot more frightening, because I’m scared out of my mind. I dig my fingernails into my palms, hoping to distract the emotional pain I’m feeling from the physical. That’s when I feel it—flesh brushing my skin. Then a pinkie hitches with mine.

At first, I think it’s Hunter, even though he’s on the other side of me. Logically, it seems more plausible than Zay hitching his pinkie with mine. Logic, though, must have gone out the broken windows because, when I glance down, Zay’s pinkie is hitched with mine.

I move my gaze up to his face, but he’s not looking at me and never meets my gaze. He does, however, give my pinkie a soft, reassuring squeeze, which leaves me feeling all sorts of confused.

I look ahead, my mind swimming in confusion. Then that confusion morphs into something else …

“Are you okay?” the little boy asks me.

I shake my head. “No … I’m scared, Zay.”

He steps toward me and offers me his hand. “I am, too. But it’ll be okay.”

“How do you know for sure?” I ask as I take his hand.

“Because I do,” he says. When I aim a doubtful look at him, he adds, “Trust me; we’ll be okay.” He gives a brief pause then hitches his pinkie with mine. “As long as you and I are together, we’ll always be okay.”

I feel a bit better now as we walk through the forest with our pinkies hitched. Zay has never lied to me, so I know he’s telling the truth—that we’ll be okay—

I blink from the memory, my heart racing as I glance at Zay. This time, our gazes collide.

“What?” he wonders with his brows knit.

I shake my head, unsure what to make of the Zay standing next to me. When I first met him, he was a total asshole. And he still seems like that most of the time. But there are times, like now, and in my forgotten memories, where he doesn’t seem entirely awful.

“It’s nothing.” I let my gaze dissect him, trying to unravel the mysteriousness of him.

His throat muscles work as he swallows forcefully. Then, with his gaze welded to mine, he lets his other fingers touch my hand so our palms are pressed together. Warmth kisses through me, and my breathing slightly quickens. His chest starts to move more quickly, too, and the tension in the air is so electric that I swear the place is about to sizzle into ashes—

“You two doing okay over there?” Hunter’s voice slips through the moment.

Zay jerks back and crosses his arms. “Of course I fucking am,” he snaps. That said, he takes off down the hallway, leaving us behind.

I let out a sigh, to which Hunter responds by taking my hand and pulling me toward him.

“Don’t let his moodiness get to you. He just struggles with emotional stuff.”

“Emotional stuff?” I question with my head angled to the side.

His blue eyes weld with mine as he pulls me closer so our bodies are nearly flushed, yet he somehow manages to continue to walk down the hallway, making me walk backward in front of him.

“Palms pressed together,” Hunter says as he leans in. “That connection … he’s not used to it at all.”

“I … I didn’t realize you saw that.” I give a short pause. “If he’s not used to it, then why’s he doing it with me?”

“Because he likes you,” he replies simply with one hand resting on my waist. With his free hand, he reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “He might even want you. But, again, he’s not used to it.” With his fingers, he sketches a path along the speck of flesh peeking out from above the waistband of my skirt, and a shiver rolls through my body. “It’s okay. I truly believe that he’ll work through this.”

I want to ask him what exactly is going to happen when Zay works through … whatever the hell is going on inside him, but we reach the end of the hallway, which turns out to be the foyer and the front door. Zay is standing there, staring at the floor, looking a bit worked up.

The only reason I know the door behind him leads outside is because, the first time I was at the guys’ house, Zay took me out of it so that I could get into the car with their driver. It makes me wonder if the driver is taking us to this “party.”

“How are we getting to this party, anyway?” I direct my question to Hunter since Zay seems more content at paying attention to his boots.

“A car is going to pick us up,” Hunter explains, digging out his phone.

“So, your driver’s not taking us, then?” I ask. “I think his name is Zee, right?”

Hunter pushes a few buttons on his phone. “We sent him away … Out of state, actually.”

I scratch my arm. “Why?”

Hunter pockets his phone then looks up at me while taking my hand. “Because it’s not safe in this town. Not that it ever was. But it’s about to get a hell of a lot dangerous to be anywhere near here.”

“But … what about all the people who live here?” I ask as he traces the folds of my fingers.

“Some of them—the ones who aren’t part of the families and the game—have been evacuated due to a”—he makes air quotes—“‘infectious virus.’ So, everyone who’s still here is part of the game … I feel like I need to warn you that, when we step out of this house, the town is going to look a lot different.”

Worry waves over me. “How so?”

Instead of answering, Hunter flicks a glance at Zay. When I track his gaze, Zay is looking from Hunter to me, and our eyes lock. Something about the look in Zay’s eyes—like a sense of dread—sends my pulse spiking.

Zay parts his lips as if to answer me, but the voice that speaks doesn’t belong to Zay.

“It’ll be apocalyptic.” Jax’s voice floats down the hallway.

I turn and find him walking toward us, a vision in dark, his hands tucked inside his pockets.

He sweeps his gaze up and down my body, not a drop of emotion evident on his face. “You’re going to freeze.”

“You know the dress code,” Hunter reminds him. “She has to wear a skirt.”

I crinkle my nose. “What sort of sexist bullshit rule is that?”

Hunter rubs his lips together. “This entire game could be construed as sexist bullshit.”

A lump wells in my throat. “Well, that’s just great.”

Hunter squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything.

“Is everyone ready, then?” Jax asks, arching his pierced brow as he looks from Hunter to Zay. “We all have our weapons and everything?”

Weapons?

I raise my hand, I know, like a total dumbass.

Hunter smiles at me. “Aw … look at you, being a good girl and raising your hand.”

My lips twitch in annoyance as I lower my hand. “I just have a question, and y’all were talking.”

Still smiling, he brushes his fingers along my chin. “What do you need, baby?”

I sigh heavily. “Well, for starters, I need you to stop calling me baby.”

“I’ll try.” The amusement in his eyes suggests otherwise.

Grimacing, I continue, “And I don’t have a weapon.”

“You didn’t give her a weapon?” Jax asks Hunter with his brow raised.

Hunter shakes his head. “I was too distracted with dressing her.” A faint smile touches his lips as he lightly fiddles with the hem of my skirt. “Can you really blame me, though? Look at these fucking legs.”

Jax shakes his head. “Wait here. I’ll go get a knife and holster.” He spins on his heels, his boots scuffing against the floor as he stalks down the hallway, past closed doors, and rounding a corner.

“Great. We made the boss mad again,” Hunter jokes with a whoopsie face.

“We?” Zay cocks a brow at him. “You’re the one who forgot to give her a weapon.”

“You could’ve done it. You were in the room with us the entire time.” Hunter gives him an insinuating look. “I think you were a little bit distracted, too, by her fucking sexy as hell legs.”

“Um … I’m right here,” I remind them, shifting my weight.

The corners of Hunter’s lips quirk as he skates his gaze to me. “I know, baby.”

I give him a dirty look. “Then, why are you talking about me like I’m not?”

He cocks his head to the side. “How am I doing that?”

I chew on my bottom lip. “Because you keep saying my legs are sexy.”

“So? Am I not allowed to give you compliments in front of you?”

I cross my arms, growing fidgety. “I told you already that compliments make me uncomfortable.”

He takes another step toward me until our boots are flushed. “I know you did.” His expression softens as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But I think you need to hear them. You’ve been bullied too much in your life, and you think way too negatively of yourself.” He slants toward me. “But I’m going to fix that,” he whispers so softly that I can’t tell if he’s talking to himself or me.

I don’t get much time to figure it out, either, because, when he brushes his lips against mine, my brain sort of spaces out and my hands unconsciously wander upward and loop around the back of his neck while he grips my waist. He groans, parting my lips with his tongue, as he kisses me deeper. That’s when I become aware of something.

I like kissing Hunter Hathingford.

“Jesus, Hunter,” Zay mumbles. “What the hell are you doing?”

Hunter pulls back, his ravenous breath dusting my face as he briefly stares at me. Then he drifts his eyes to Zay. “I’m not breaking any rules,” he states. “I want to fucking kiss, and as long as she’s fine with it, I’m going to.”

He returns his attention to me. “I’m not pressuring you, am I?”

Part of me wants to lie and nod instead of admitting the truth aloud, but I feel like my life has been tangled with too many lies already.

“No, you’re not,” I say quietly. “I … I like it when you kiss me.”

His lips tug into a half-grin. “Yeah?” he double-checks, and I nod. His smile grows, and then he leans in to kiss me again. It’s a brief brush of lips this time, and then he’s pulling back to look at Zay again.

“You know, if you wanted to, you could try kissing her, too. It might help with that jealousy you’re feeling right now.”

“What’re you doing?” I hiss to Hunter.

He throws me a wicked grin. “Stating the truth. And the truth is that he wants to kiss you himself. It’s why he’s getting annoyed with me right now. I can’t say I blame him. These lips are absolutely fucking kissable.” He brushes the pad of his thumb along my bottom lip. “But he already knows that, right, Zay?” He glances at Zay with his brow elevated.

Zay glares daggers at him. “Why are you doing this? Do you just get off on pissing me off, or is it something else?”

“I’m just trying to help you get over that kissing fear you’ve had for over the last decade,” Hunter tells him.

I recall how Katy told me that Zay never kisses anyone on the lips, and Hunter basically confirmed that. But Zay kissed me once, over a decade ago.

Dots are starting to connect, one by one, like a painting begging to be complete.

Zay’s gaze slams into mine, and he must be able to tell what I’m thinking, because he spins on his heels, yanks the front door open, and storms outside.

“Shit.” Hunter rushes after him. When he reaches the front door, though, he turns to me. “Wait right here, okay?” When I nod, he rushes outside and closes the door behind him.

Quietness settles over me. Well, except for the hammering of my heart.

If I correctly understand what happened, then I’m the only girl Zay’s ever kissed. How is that possible? How does a guy like Zay never kiss anyone again after me? Sure, he’s an asshole, but some women like that. Did he never get a chance to kiss anyone again? Or is there more to it than that?

“I like you, Raven,” he tells me. “You’re one of my best friends.”

I sigh as the image floods my mind. I’m starting to grow exhausted from these random pieces my brain keeps throwing at me. I want to know the entire story … I think, anyway.

Hugging my arms around myself, I wander around, looking at the framed photos on the walls that tell part of the guys’ story. Or, at least Hunter’s. He told me he took all the photos, which means he’s been to all sorts of places—cities, mountains, fields, none of which are in Honeyton. What must that be like? To travel and see the world?

“That one was taken in New York.” Jax’s voice drifts toward me.

When I glance to my right, I find him walking toward me with a knife and leather holster in his hand.

“When did he go there?” I ask.

He stops beside me. “A couple of years ago, we all took a business trip there.”

“By yourselves?”

He nods as he unbuckles the holster.

“You were only, like, sixteen, though … Your parents just let you …?” Realizing how silly I’m about to sound, I stop myself. “Never mind.”

He studies me. Or maybe he’s just calculating me. Who the hell knows with Jax?

“Even when we lived with our parents, we were never really kids,” he says while positioning himself in front of me. “When we were younger, we lived under some strict rules. However, the rules that were set upon us weren’t the normal rules most children have.” He kneels on the floor in front of me, leaving me utterly perplexed. “You remember a little bit about our pasts, right?” he asks, peering up at me, strands of his inky back hair falling back from his forehead.

I nod. “I know we were forced to do some sort of game and, while I can’t remember all the details, from the pieces I can remember, I know it was bad.”

“It was.” His tone carries indifference, but I wonder if he’s just controlling himself. Because, how could he be indifferent to what happened?

He sets the knife down on the floor but keeps the holster in his hand. “Well, the rules we had as children centered around that. Things like we weren’t allowed to leave the perimeters of our families’ yards. We were never allowed to speak about what happened in our houses to anyone outside of the families. We were to obey our fathers, no matter how messed up what they were telling us to do was …” He nibbles on his lip piercing. “We weren’t allowed to make friends outside of the families, either, except for one time.”

I press my lips together for a beat. “You mean me?”

He nods, his gaze never wavering from mine.

Jax may be indifferent a lot, but when his attention is fully centered on me, it’s intense.

“You were the only exception, Ravenlee. Up until you, we were hardly ever around anyone outside of the families.”

“Didn’t that seem a bit strange?”

“Oh, it definitely did. And it didn’t make any sense.” Hesitation fleetingly flickers across his face, but it promptly fades. “All we can figure is that your father or mother, for some reason or another, owed a debt to my father.”

My heart smashes against my ribs, as if begging the bones to break. I can’t hear anything else besides the roar of my heart. The angry cry of it.

“Wait … You’re saying you think one of my parents owed your father and paid them with me?”

With his lips pressed together, he nods. “That’s one of our theories.”

I think a part of me sort of dies at that moment, but the reality is, and as heartbreaking as it is, perhaps he’s right. With everything I’ve remembered so far, the idea seems plausible. Plus … “I had a nightmare about my dad,” I divulge. “Right before I woke up from the poison-induced sleep.”

His expression is so unreadable that it’s nearly driving me mad. “What was it about?”

“That he was one of those monsters. I’m sure it was just a nightmare, since my father was human when he died. It’s just a little strange, and I can’t help wondering if perhaps there’s more to it.”

“Maybe your brain was projecting your secret fears to you.”

“Maybe. Or maybe it was trying to tell me something.”

He furrows his brow. “Like what?”

I shrug. “I don’t know … Like maybe he’s one of those monsters now.” I frown. “That probably sounds crazy, right?”

He raises his brows. “Have you paid attention to what’s been going on?” He unfastens the holster all the way. “Crazy is our life, sweetheart.”

There’s something strange about hearing him call me sweetheart. It’s not necessarily a bad thing. It just seems like Jax isn’t the sort of guy who calls people sweetheart. Not that I know the current Jax well. I guess, from what I can remember, the old Jax may have. It’s hard to say for sure, since people tend to change depending on what path their lives take. The minor shifts and alters, they mark us like the fucking scars branded on my flesh.

To be honest, I wonder if perhaps he even is aware that he said it. When I search his gaze, though, I can tell that he is, and I think—and let me stress the think part because Jax is complicated to read—he’s curious to see how I’ll react.

“So, sweetheart, huh?” I decide to just call him out on it.

“I was trying it out,” he informs me with the tiniest of smiles. “Thought I’d take it on a test ride.”

Well, this is a side I’ve never seen of him before. It’s interesting, to say the least.

“So, how’d it drive?” I ask with a hint of amusement.

He chews on his bottom lip. “I’m not sure yet. Thought I might ask the passenger for her opinion.”

As adorable as this playful side of him is … “Dude, I’m not the passenger,” I insist, crossing my arms.

“You think so?” His dark eyes appear a little brighter at that moment.

“I know so,” I throw at him.

“Hmm …” He rubs his lips together. “That might be a problem.”

My brows dip. “How do you figure?”

“Because there can’t be two drivers.” He reaches for me then. “That might be a problem we’re going to have to work through.”

“Who says there can’t be two drivers?” I ask, wondering what in the hell he’s doing.

He pauses, considering what I said with a mildly curious expression. “I’m not sure how it’d work, but it’d definitely be interesting.” He smiles to himself. Like, truly fucking smiles. And it’s completely and utterly beautiful.

However, I also get the feeling that we might not be talking about the same thing.

“So, do you want to wear this tucked inside your boot?” He does a complete one-eighty and changes the subject. “Or strapped around your thigh?” He brushes his fingers along the top of my lace-up boots then glances up at me.

“It’d probably be better to put it on my thigh, right? So it’s easier for me to reach.”

He drags his teeth along his bottom lip. “It would be, but we’ll have to put it high up since your skirt’s so short.”

“That’s fine. It just goes on the side of my thigh, right?” I check so I know how to put it on correctly.

He nods then drifts his fingers upward, toward the bottom of my skirt.

My lips part in confusion, and I’m about to ask him what he’s doing when he pauses.

“You’re okay with me putting it on you, right?” he asks, peering up at me.

I hesitate. Am I? That’s a lot of leg he’ll be touching.

“You can trust me, Ravenlee,” the boy with raven black hair tells me. “No matter what.”

I nod. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

I nod again.

He lowers his gaze from mine, and then he slowly wanders up my thigh. When he reaches the bottom of my skirt, he lifts it up, not enough that I’m flashing him, but a lot of my leg is showing. Then he takes the holster and wraps the straps around my thigh, his fingers grazing my skin, causing a shiver to kiss across every inch of flesh.

Jax pauses, glancing up at me. “You okay?”

Smashing my lips together, I give an uneven nod. “I’m fine … Like I said, I’m just not used to people touching me.”

“You want me to stop?”

“No.” Honestly, I want him to touch me more. It feels amazing, like when Hunter kisses me, only ten times more heart-exploding.

Jax wavers, as if giving me time to back out, then returns to fastening the holster. He takes his time but eventually gets it secured around my thigh. By then, his fingers have brushed my flesh so many times that I’m nearly shaking from the connection.

Instead of pulling back, he glances up at me again. He doesn’t say anything right away, nibbling on his lip ring. “Do you want me to keep touching you?”

His question throws me off, not only due to the content itself but also because Jax isn’t the kind of guy who tends to ask people questions. No, he demands them. This is definitely a different side of Jax than I’ve seen.

I replay through his question, wondering how I should answer. It felt incredible when he was touching me, but what does that mean exactly? I mean, we’re kind of friends … I guess. Friends just don’t go around touching each other like this.

But it feels so damn good …

Unable to get the words out of my mouth, I just bob my head up and down.

“You sure?” he checks. Again, it’s something that seems out of character for him.

I nod again, and then he slowly traces his fingers along my outer thigh, his gaze tracking my every movement. My breathing quickens as I watch him down on his knees in front of me. It doesn’t seem like something that could be real. Jax is dominant, bossy, and cold, and yet, here he is, kneeling in front of me—

My thoughts are cut off as he drifts his fingers to my inner thigh. A faltering breath slips from my lips, causing Jax to flick his gaze up to me.

“You still okay with this?” he asks, his fingers freezing.

I nod. “My legs are just a little bit wobbly; that’s all.”

He wraps his fingers around my thigh, telling me, “Lean back against the wall.”

It’s not a question and, typically, I’d be all over defying, but my mind is way too cloudy at the moment. So, I do what he said and slump back against the wall. Then, closing my eyes, I feel his fingers start exploring again, tracing a path up and down my flesh. Up … and down … Up … His fingers brush the top of my thigh, and my breath catches in my throat. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter and bite down on my bottom lip, resisting the urge to moan.

“You still okay?” His voice wobbles the slightest bit. Or maybe I’m just so foggy headed that I misheard him.

I bob my head up and down, my eyes still shut. “Yeah … I’m great.”

I have no idea why I do what I do next. Perhaps it’s simply because his touch feels so good that I want to keep feeling it. Or maybe it’s the simple act of being touched for the first time in a long time and my fear of losing it. Whatever the reason, I find myself reaching down and placing my hand over his.

“Keep doing it.” I guide his hand upward.

His fingers tense, and then I feel him shift. When I open my eyes, he’s standing up. That’s when I realize what I did, and embarrassment washes over me. But before I can get too flushed, he leans toward me, resting one hand on the wall beside my head and keeping the other on my thigh. He says nothing, carrying my gaze as he begins to move his hand again, leaning even closer until his lips are a sliver of space away from mine.

“You tell me when to stop,” he breathes out with his gaze fastened to mine.

My breathing quickens again as he drifts his fingers to the edge of my panties. Then he slips them inside, and …

“Jaxon,” I moan, his name just sort of falling off my tongue, as I clutch his sides tightly.

He stiffens momentarily then relaxes. “Say it again.”

“What …?” I can barely grasp what he’s saying, my body and mind wound up so tightly that I feel like I’m going to explode.

He presses his forehead against mine. “Say my name like that again.” He brushes his finger along my flesh again.

I wonder if he’s going to slip them inside me.

I wonder if I should let him.

I want to.

I want to see what it feels like so badly …

“Raven, say my name again,” he says. “Please.”

“Jaxon,” I whisper, a bit confused as to why he’s pushing this.

He releases a shaky breath, shutting his eyes. “You want me to keep touching you?”

Without much thought, I nod.

He brushes his lips against mine, just a featherlight touch. Then he starts to slip his fingers inside me, and … oh my God, I feel like I’m about to—

Creak.

“Umm … What the hell am I seeing right now?” Hunter’s voice cuts through the moment, basically dousing a bucket of cold water over me.

I jerk back, but all that results in is me banging my head on the wall like a spaz.

“Ow.” I wince, removing one of my hands from Jaxon’s side to rub my head.

“You okay?” Jaxon asks calmly, which I know is pretty typical for him, but considering the situation, I’d expect even him to be a bit more uneasy,

I mean, Hunter is standing in the foyer, staring at us, for hell’s sake, and Jaxon still has his finger inside me.

“Yeah,” I say, blinking a few times.

He watches me momentarily then slowly removes his finger, his gaze never straying from mine. I try not to gasp at the sensation, but my breath sort of catches.

His lips tug into a ghost of a smile, but he quickly erases it. Then he says absolutely nothing to me as he bends down, scoops up the knife from the floor, and puts it in the holster that’s attached to my thigh. After that, he casually pulls down my skirt and turns to Hunter, who’s almost reached us by then.

“Where were you?” he asks like he didn’t almost finger me.

Even Hunter looks a bit taken aback. “Zay panicked and ran outside, so I went to get him.”

“So, where is he?” Jax checks the time on his phone.

Hunter hitches his thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the doorway. “Our ride showed up while we were out there, so he got in. I just came in here to tell you guys to come on.” He fleetingly flits his gaze to me, and guilt weaves in my stomach.

I just kissed Hunter a handful of minutes ago, and then I let Jax touch me. Is that, like, cheating or something? I’m not sure since Hunter and I aren’t really dating. But it seems like maybe it might be wrong, and perhaps he’s going to get upset about it. Although, I can’t picture Hunter getting upset.

“All right, let’s go, then.” Jax goes straight back to being indifferent as he starts toward the door without so much as a glance back at me.

And me? I feel like a dumbass. Seriously, what was I thinking, letting him touch me like that with all the lies and coldness constantly emitting from him?

Well, I was thinking about how good it felt and nothing else.

“Are you okay?” Hunter’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

I focus on him, his blue eyes that don’t appear to reflect any sort of anger. “Yep, I’m fine.” I straighten from the wall, the metal handle of the knife cold against my flushed skin. “Are you?”

An artful smile curves across his lips. “You mean, am I fine with the fact that Jax was just about to finger fuck you in the hallway?”

Warmth spreads to my cheeks, which seems utterly absurd considering what I was just doing.

“I … Don’t …” Unable to form coherent words, I move to swing around him so I can head outside and avoid this painful conversation. But he snatches a hold of my arm as I pass by and spins me toward him.

“It’s okay if you want to fuck around with him,” he tells me. “It doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I kind of liked seeing it.” He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip hard. “It turned me on.”

I feel so out of my element that I’m not even sure what to say. Luckily, he keeps talking. Otherwise, things may have gotten even more awkward.

“As long as it’s just Jax … and Zay.” He gives a short pause. “As long as you’re cool with that. I’m not about to boss you around.” His lips kick upward. “It’s not really my style.”

It doesn’t seem like his style to me, either, yet … “You’re seriously fine with me … doing that sort of stuff with Jax?” I question dubiously.

“And Zay,” he adds. “Whether they’ll share or not is an entirely different story. You’ll have to ask them for yourself.” Smirking, he tows me toward him until our bodies are flushed. “You should probably get used to saying the words aloud, though. You know, like fuck and wet and letting him finger fuck—”

I throw my hand over his mouth.

He chuckles, his eyes glittering. “It’s good to see that you can still blush.”

My cheeks are on fire.

“I don’t know why you like seeing me do it.”

“Because it’s adorable,” he admits, slipping his arm around my back. “You are seriously the most adorable woman I’ve ever met.” He pauses. “Even when I walk in on you about to get fingered by my best friend.”

If I thought my cheeks were on fire before, I was wrong. I’m seriously worried my face is about to engulf in flames.

“I know you guys didn’t get to finish,” he continues with hilarity in his tone. “If you want me to finish pushing you to the edge, let me know.” With his free hand, he reaches up and removes my hand from his lips. Then he leans in and kisses me deeply but quickly before pulling back.

“We need to go.” He quietly sighs at that, like it’s the last thing he wants to do.

That makes two of us.

But, if what they’ve all said is true, I don’t really have a choice.

So, I do the only thing I can think of. I walk side by side with him out the front door, heading to a game that may have no good outcome at all.