By the time Allen found himself sitting in the living room, watching Jake, Riley, and Kingston attempt to build a bookshelf from scratch, the irritation still hadn't faded.
“Stop touching my wood,” Jake muttered, tugging the shelf-sized plank he was holding out of Riley’s hands.
Riley’s cackle helped chip away at Allen’s irritation, as did his boyish smile and the sound of Kingston’s snickering.
“I thought me touching your wood would be included in the relationship bundle,” Riley chirped, boldly pushing into Jake’s space until there was only an inch separating their lips.
This was obviously new territory for them, but when Jake hooked his finger into Riley’s belt loop to hold him in place and angled his head like he was about to kiss him, Allen felt tingles erupt over his skin.
“If you want my cock, Riles, then ask for it,” Jake drawled, ignoring the sound of a hammer dropping to the floor when it fell from Kingston’s hand. “But until then, I’m going to build this bookshelf, and you’re going to help me instead of annoying me.”
Allen grabbed his abandoned book and started fanning himself, needing as much extra oxygen as he could get when all the blood in his body suddenly rushed south.
They were never going to get the damn bookshelves built.
When Jake finally released Riley and returned to the pile of planks to grab more, Riley wisely kept his mouth shut and switched into serious mode.
Allen still didn’t understand why building furniture required so much effort when the store had already cut everything for them. As far as he was concerned, they should have been able to nail the pieces together, slap on some paint, and call it a day. Apparently, there were far more steps involved than that.
After an hour of watching the three of them argue, bark instructions, and occasionally steal each other’s tools, he grew bored. He retreated to the bathroom for another bubble bath—this time without any extra men invading his tub.
Allen couldn’t have been in there for more than an hour, but when he came back, Riley and Kingston were curled up together on the sectional, and somehow the room had gone from containing no bookshelves to containing three.
Allen stared at them for a moment, having absolutely no ideahowthat had happened other than the obvious explanation of magic or blood sacrifices, which…
“Where’s Jake?” Allen asked, searching the kitchen and every visible area of the penthouse for signs of his boyfriend.
“He’s here,” Kingston replied, pointing to the spot on the sectional beside him. “His head was hurting, so I made him lie down on my lap and close his eyes for a minute before he tried to jump into making dinner for us.”
Allen’s insides had already been squirming after spotting the cuddle session between Riley and Kingston. So, by the time he came closer and peered over the back of the sectional and found Jake lying on his back between Kingston’s legs, his insides turned to goo.
Riley, who was sitting with his back against the armrest with Kingston pressed against his chest, was alternating betweenkissing his boyfriend’s neck and playing with Jake’s hair, earning content sighs from both men.
No longer feeling agitated and not wanting to be left out, Allen joined them on the sectional and carefully climbed on top of Jake so he could use him as a bed. It was as warm as it had been that morning when Allen woke tangled up in the three of them, and the snuggling came with head pats from all his men, including an ass grab from Jake.
“There’s still one more shelf to make,” Riley groaned.
Allen sighed as he and Jake were jostled around by a temperamental Kingston.
“Don’t get Jake going, jackass,” Kingston warned. “I just got him down ten minutes ago. We can finish the damn shelf tomorrow.”
“You’re making me sound like a toddler taking a nap at daycare,” Jake grumbled.
The offended confusion in his voice nearly broke Allen. He pressed a hand over his mouth, trying—and failing—to hold back his laughter.
Kingston patted Jake’s arm. “It’s okay, big guy. Just be a good boy and close your eyes.”
Allen could practically feel Jake’s bewilderment from underneath him. “My eyes were already closed,” Jake pointed out. “How exactly am I supposed to close them more?”
This time Allen snorted outright, the sound escaping before he could stop it, and the last of the frustration he’d been carrying all day finally loosened its grip.
Soon, he would figure out what to do about Jake’s career, but he needed time to come up with a good enough plan to convince Mr. Valero that he knew what was best for his son. Allen knew he could do it; he just had to wait a little longer for the pieces to fall into place.
Just a little longer.
24 /JAKE
“What’s for dinner?”