He doesn’t say anything else. He just holds me close as my tears drip onto his skin and strokes my hair until I finally fall asleep.
* * *
When I wakeup the next morning, Conor is no longer in bed with me.
I sit up, looking around for him, but he’s nowhere to be found. Throwing off the sheets, I grab the first article of clothing I come across — a large black FBI sweatshirt resting on the armchair — and tug it over my head. My hair feels twice its normal size, bushy and mussed from a night of lovemaking, but I barely care. A smile stretches across my lips as I barrel out into the living room.
“Hey, sexy, where’d you g—OH!”
I let out an embarrassed yelp as my eyes catch up to my mouth and I see Conor sitting on the sofa… beside Kaufman and Evelson. My cheeks turn fire-engine red as three male sets of eyes cut to me at once.
I instantly regret my choice of nicknames, though not as much as I regret the fact that I didn’t put on pants before rushing out of the bedroom. With as much decorum as I can muster, I reach down and tug the hem of my sweatshirt more firmly over my thighs as I walk toward the sofa.
“Gentleman,” I say in a haughty voice.
Kaufman nearly snorts coffee out his nose.
Evelson forces a cough to cover his laugh.
“Hunt. You’re awake.” Conor’s mouth is twitching with amusement. “Tell us… which one of us were you referring to, exactly?”
“Me, obviously.” Kaufman smirks. “I’m the sexiest by a landslide. Have you seen these baby blue eyes?”
“Now, now, don’t get ahead of yourself,” Evelson chimes in, rubbing his buzzed head. “Some chicks dig the bald look.”
I will myself to sink into the floorboards and disappear. Unfortunately, my powers of invisibility don’t seem to be cooperating at the moment.
“I’ll just… grab some coffee…” I mutter weakly, darting into the kitchen and away from their laughter.
Smooth, Shelby. So smooth.
I’m pouring myself a steaming cup when two arms brace against the counter on either side of me. A firm chest hits my back.
“Good morning,” Conor rumbles in my ear.
“Is it?”
“Oh, come on. We’re required to tease you a little.”
I turn around inside the cage of his arms and I kid you not, my knees go weak when I see the amount of warmth in his eyes.
“Hi,” I whisper, arching into him.
“Hi,” he rasps, leaning down to kiss me.
We lose ourselves for a minute, mouths moving together as unchecked passion blossoms bright between us. It’s dangerous — how addicted I’ve already become to his touch. I crave it like a drug, seek it out with a relentless, limitless drive. After a minute or two, I’ve forgotten all about my coffee growing cold on the countertop, about the two men sitting in the other room, about the very real danger I’m in…
Conor has a smidge more self control. He pulls back, breaking our lips apart, but his breaths are as ragged as mine.
“This could be a problem.” He’s staring at my mouth.
“Oh?” I lick my lips innocently. “How so?”
“You are a dangerous distraction.”
“Is that right?” I sidle toward him, craning my neck back to maintain eye contact. “I’d apologize, but I’m not really sorry…”
His jaw clenches with restraint. “Keep teasing me, you will be later.”