Total pages in book: 205
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 204377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1022(@200wpm)___ 818(@250wpm)___ 681(@300wpm)
55
Frankie
—
Leo and I brush our teeth side by side. It feels shockingly intimate, standing with him, spitting into the sink, and sharing private smiles in the mirror.
What catches me off guard isn’t our nudity or how we simultaneously fall into the domestic act. It’s how perfectly he answers an innate, baser need inside me.
Togetherness.
With a man who isn’t my husband.
I don’t know how to process that.
He chugs mouthwash straight from the bottle, swishes, and offers it to me.
As I follow suit, something occurs to me. “You’ve never been to a dentist.”
“So?” He wraps a towel around his waist. “You think my teeth are bad?”
“Are they?”
He bends down, puts his face in mine, and flashes a row of pearly whites.
“I’m not a dentist.” Doesn’t stop me from pushing his lips back and probing along his clean, straight teeth. “Hmm.”
“What?” He leans back with a raised brow.
“Gums look healthy. No missing teeth. But who’s to say you don’t have cavities? What about your brothers?”
“None of us have cavities, you witchy woman. We use electric toothbrushes and fluoride and whatever else Denver steals from dentist offices. Never eaten citrus, sugar, or processed foods. A healthy diet goes a long way.”
“So do good genes,” I grumble. “I had braces in high school.”
“No shit?” He grins, staring at me as if trying to picture that poor, awkward girl.
“It’s a barbaric practice. Stop laughing. Do you know how inhumane it is to force a metal mouth and headgear on a pimply, hormonal girl when all she wants is to make friends and maybe catch the attention of a cute boy?”
“I can’t imagine.” He looks at me like I’m speaking another language.
“Champagne problems.” I grab my towel and shove him toward the door. “Forget it.”
“Hold up. I want to hear more about this pimply, hormonal girl.”
“Conversation over.” I open the door.
We decide to forgo our dirty clothes and exit the bathroom in our towels.
An unlit hallway greets us, and I pause, shivering in the dark, scanning the shadows, seconds from jumping out of my skin. I feel too exposed, and the headspace I suddenly find myself in throws a bucket of ice on my earlier arousal.
There’s no shame in what I just did with Leo, but I stand by my decision to swear off monogamy.
Does that mean I’m ready to run headlong into polygamy? Hell no. I don’t know how to navigate all the jealousy and hurt feelings that come with that, and I’m not inclined to put the guys in that position. We have enough to worry about as it is.
That said, I refuse to put the brakes on this addictive, physical thing I have with Leo. Our chemistry is too strong. Whether we’re fighting or making out, we’re fire together. I know he wants me as desperately as I want him, and if I deny him, I’ll be punishing us both.
“It’s me,” Leo whispers, cracking the door to Kody’s room.
He’s met with silence.
Pressing a finger to his lips, he motions for me to stay.
That means he’s going in there without me.
That means he intends for us to go somewhere else together.
I quiver with nerves and excitement as a wordless conversation passes between us.
He’s not ready to end the night, and he’s not asking my permission. He demands it with the intensity of those mismatched eyes. He knows I want it.
I nod my acquiescence anyway.
Hovering in the open doorway, I track his footsteps through the darkness within and pretend the staircase behind me isn’t making my shoulder blades twitch.
It’s all in my mind. Nothing is there.
My fear of Denver hasn’t diminished over the past three weeks. It’s worsened. I fear his voice, his touch, his breath on my neck. Not that I’ll let him see how frightened he makes me. But I know the depth of my psychological damage runs deep. I’ve buried it so far down inside myself it’ll take months of hypnosis to scrape it all out.
One can only hope.
If I’m receiving that kind of help, it means I’ve escaped this place. And I won’t leave without those three men.
Leo doesn’t make me suffer for long. In less than a minute, he returns with a bundle of clean clothes.
“They’re asleep.” He shuts the door.
I adjust the knot on my towel, uncertain. Will he take the lead here or—?
He steps into my space, still shirtless in only a towel. Warm, minty breath fans over my lips, and I inch backward.
“My room,” he orders, staying with me, that smoldering gaze searing into mine.
I back up, and he stalks after me with lupine grace, heating my skin and amping my pulse. I continue my retreat, unable to tear my eyes away, tracking the approaching force, the vibrating potency of a man who knows what he wants.
God, the way he looks at me. It’s hot enough to melt the skin from my bones and crack the foundation of the house.