More, Sloan Parker [guided reading books TXT] 📗

tense or freak about what it meant to be close without an agenda in mind. I fought the instinct and let my hands wander, let myself enjoy Richard and Matthew for as long as I could.

I was getting used to not being alone. Getting used to them. To wanting. To needing. To the easy way we were together. Shouldn't that scare me? Shouldn't I be leaving?

I tried to push away thoughts of my father and what the man had said. And the way I'd found the perfect distraction when I'd gotten home. Most importantly, I tried to avoid that I was referring to the place I'd just moved into as home. Wasn't it temporary?

It didn't matter. None of it mattered.

I had moved in with two men to whom I'd made promises, to whom I'd agreed to be faithful. It was more than I had allowed myself to do since I was nineteen years old.

It was a start.

For once, I was not letting myself or my father scare me away from a good thing.

Chapter Fifteen

Throughout the week, I became a part of an evening routine that had nothing to do with surveillance video feeds or time spent trolling the Haven for someone to spend a half hour with.

Matthew made dinner most nights. I helped finish the food or set the table when I could. After we ate, we'd watch TV, or Richard and I would get some work done on our laptops while Matthew read a book. The nights ended with sex— in the bedroom, the basement, or even on the couch if we couldn't keep our hands off one another before the show ended. We hadn't spent a night together all week that didn't include getting off in one way or another.

Matthew and I had also spent time setting up the spare rooms, unpacking, and rearranging furniture. Matthew even brought over a small television and an Xbox from his mom's place. Richard turned a deep shade of red when he saw it.

“Feeling old?” I asked when we were alone later.

“God, yes. Sometimes I look at him and I think I'm robbing the damn cradle.”

“Does it bother you?”

“Not enough to give a shit. Or to give him up.”

I couldn't argue with him. I'd never cared about the age difference between myself and any other man. Then again, I hadn't had a relationship with anyone since I was nineteen. When it came to casual fucks, as long as they were legal, I didn't care. And I wasn't about to let it start bothering me. Not when it might have meant Matthew was too young for me.

While he worked on his room, I fixed the other one up to serve as my office. I also wanted to include a bed, in case I needed to sleep alone at some point. I didn't want to mention anything to Richard, so I lived with the room as it was. Things were going well with the arrangement, and I didn't want to disrupt the flow we had going or anger or disappoint them in any way.

I'd taken to giving their feelings considerable amounts of thought. Which I guess made sense when so much of my usual life had vanished, and I was left with all sorts of free time.

It was easy to let go of my obsession with my stalkers. Not because my father said he wouldn't send his men. I didn't believe he'd tell the truth. It was more the diversion of Matthew and Richard and my unexpected enjoyment of our temporary living situation that had me relaxed.

After work on Friday night, I wasn't the least bit concerned with sex clubs, hidden cameras, or fathers. I stepped in the house and headed straight for the kitchen. Matthew sat at the counter leaning over Richard's laptop, his iPod clipped to his pants, headphones in his ears. A low beat of music a generation below my style was audible from the tiny speakers. Not a surprise. When I was in high school, he was in the first grade. I stepped close behind him and glanced at the screen. Shopping for more video games. Richard would love that.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his ear. “Hey, smells good.”

Matthew flashed me a smile. “Thanks.” He removed the headphones. “It's a pasta dish. Sort of like gourmet pizza with pasta on it and fresh basil and mozzarella. I found the recipe online. I've never made it before.”

“Sounds good. Where's Richard?”

“He said he'd be late.”

I sat next to him and gestured at the computer. “Shopping?”

“Yeah. Richard said I could use his laptop to get online, check my e-mail.”

“Buying a new game?”

He stared at the screen. “I got a gift card from my mom. For my birthday.”

“When was your birthday?”

He lowered his gaze and ran a finger over the touch pad. “When we had our date.”

“You should've said.”

“Nah. It's just a birthday.” His head snapped in my direction. “Hey, don't tell Richard.”

“Why?”

“I think it might make him feel bad he missed it. But we barely knew each other, you know?”

“Okay. Next year, though, I'll have to tell him when it comes around again. Then he'll know he missed it anyway.”

Matthew's eyes went huge. He bit at his bottom lip and lifted a hand to touch my face.

What the hell? I kept making promises to him I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to keep.

I kissed him. “Happy birthday, Matthew.”

“Thanks.” He swiped a finger over my lower lip.

I wanted to get closer, touch him more. I stood. “I think I'll use the time to catch up on some work.”

“Okay.” Matthew stood and stepped around the counter to turn the stove's heat down. “This'll keep until Richard gets home.”

His hand brushed my thigh as he moved by me again. Goose bumps rose up. My pants scraped the sensitized skin.

I snaked a hand in his and pulled him back to me. He tasted like basil and tomatoes. I nibbled his lips, his tongue. He was the perfect appetizer.

I savored my way