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He pulls back, a wince marring his black brows, creasing the pale skin between them. My eyes mist when I see the genuine concern in his.
When he sees the tears, Avery’s face cracks into a pained expression. “Come here, baby.”
Jonah helps, lifting me right into Ave’s lap and sitting up behind me. While he rubs soothing circles on my lower back, Avery presses his lips into mine again, whispering, “That was a stupid fucking thing to say. I’m sorry.”
He shouldn’t even be the one apologizing. It’s me—my problem, my fault. My perfume. My heat-spikes. My hang-ups. That little voice inside of me that tells me sex appeal is all I’ll ever be to anyone.
It isn’t true, though. I can already see that.
Jonah’s been a perfect gentleman, giving me more affection than I ever dreamed and never so much as letting his hands wander. And twice, during my spikes, Avery’s put me in his tattoo chair and spent nearly an hour between my thighs, getting me off without any reciprocity.
He holds me after and purrs for me, tells me jokes and funny stories. Or he gets one of his sketches out and works on it while I melt against his rumbling chest.
They both act like they’re truly happy I’m here. It isn’t fair for me to be so sensitive about this.
“I—I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t feel so?—”
Jonah moves in closer, his own purr vibrating against my spine. “But you do, manamea. It’s okay. We all have our stuff.”
Avery pulls back just far enough to give me a solemn look as he shudders. “Yeah, never tease Spencer about the freckles on his shoulders. Trust me.”
My giggle sounds watery, but it makes him smile. “And Tristan is weird about his ears after that one haircut,” he adds.
Jonah sighs. “I told him not to cut his hair that short.”
I laugh again, but my heart feels heavy. Will Tristan ever tell me any of his own stories? Am I going to have to hear them all from his packmates?
Jonah’s phone buzzes. He checks it quickly and then chucks it aside, his expression softening as he moves closer to me.
I don’t know how he senses my feelings, but he snuggles into my back while Avery drops more kisses onto my mouth. Before long, we’re making out while Jonah keeps up his steady, soothing touches.
Their purrs press into me, melting the tension I can’t seem to shake. Making me believe, for just a few minutes, that I’m the center of their world.
When my perfume winds into the air, I expect them both to press their advantages. Instead, Avery’s mouth curves against mine. He hums, his voice rough with desire. “You know what I think?”
Jonah answers before I can. “What?”
“I think our girl needs a foot rub.”
The big man behind me grins at Ave. “You’ll have to fight me for it.”
chapter
twenty-eight
“Tubs looks like his ass is on fire.”
Chortles echo through the locker room while Theo Matthews, our tight end, busts my balls. I narrow my eyes at him.
“How are those chin pubes coming along?” I clap my hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, little guy, they’ll grow in eventually.”
His packmate and our quarterback, Declan Howard, snorts while Theo sputters. We have a long-running joke about how much thicker my hair and beard are.
Matthews may have the Viking thing going on, but my Samoan blood makes his facial hair pitiful by comparison. I’m also the only guy on the team who’s both taller and wider than him.
He always gets back at me by pointing out how ancient I am. So, I’m not surprised when he laughs, “Your beard is only better because you’re, like, a thousand, Father Time. How much slower were you in the sprints this morning?”
I snap my towel at him, covering for the fact that his question actually makes me frown. I was slower than ever this morning. Usually, I’d make a point of getting him back by pointing out the very obvious rug burn on his ass, but I’m too busy trying to yank my clothes out of my locker to do much else.
