Tristian props himself up on his elbows, looking unbothered by his general state of nudity. “I could have stayed up a couple more hours, if I’m being honest.”
Dimitri’s rough, sleep-thick voice rings out, even though he hasn’t bothered to open his eyes. “Chill the fuck out, mommy dearest. You’re harshing my afterglow.”
“Mommy dearest?!” Ms. Crane’s eyes narrow into slits. “If I were your mother, I’d poison your breakfast to spare myself the embarrassment!”
Tristian smiles serenely. “If you were my mother, I’d eat it.”
She bends to pick up a sweater off the floor, pitching it across the distance. “You have ten minutes to cover your asses and clean up your mess. I don’t get paid enough to see your limp dicks at six in the fucking morning.”
“First of all,” Killian argues, “you definitely get paid enough to see that.”
Tristian follows, “Second of all, there’s not a limp dick in this room.” He punctuates this by shooting me a quick, unapologetic wink.
Dimitri mutters, “Well, there is now,” and reaches down to cover himself, finally opening his eyes. In a loud, droll voice, he assures, “We’ll take care of it, Delores.”
“You’d fucking better.”
I wait until she’s left the room to bury my face in my hands. “Oh, my god. I can never look her in the eye again.”
Someone’s hand—Dimitri’s, going by the precision of his fingertips—comes up to rub gently against my back. “Come on, that woman’s probably seen more orgies than the Kings combined. Don’t sweat it, baby.”
Despite that frankly disturbing assurance, I still jump off the mattress, wincing at the ache between my legs, and begin plucking clothes from the floor. The guys are predictably a lot less urgent about it. Each time I glance back, I catch someone falling asleep again.
“Get up!” I hiss, tugging Dimitri’s faded black shirt over my head. When that doesn’t work, Tristian tucking his hands behind his head and flexing his thighs, I stand there with my hands on my hips, watching them.
They really are a sight like this. Three strapping, naked, gorgeous men, all sprawled out before me like something an erotic Renaissance painter dreamed up. Killian’s ink is on full display, and in places I don’t often see. He’s laying on his side, his back to me, and I take a second to appreciate the tattoos before my eyes wander to Dimitri. He’s the personification of indulgence, stretched out laconically. His hair has gotten longer over the winter and it’s flopped forward to one side, covering one of his closed eyes. It’s impossible to not look down at his cock and remember where it’s been, what he’s done with it. My attention wanders to Tristian next, but his attention is fixed on me. He’s not even tired. He was probably awake an hour ago.
“The last one of you to get up,” I tell them, eyebrow raised, “isn’t invited to my shower.” With that, I turn on my heel, sweeping out of the room.
When I hear the sudden, frantic flurry of movement behind me, my lips curve into a smirk.
But before I even reach the door, my phone goes off, making me freeze. A tight ball of anxiety forms in the back of my throat. It’s a holiday. Seven in the morning. I just had a public appearance, followed by something interesting and sexually new to me.
If Ted were going to make contact, this is when he’d do it.
It’s the only reason I pad over to my discarded pair of shorts, bending down to fish my phone from the pocket. From my periphery, I see the guys all watching, waiting.
When I see the name on the screen, I release a hard breath, shoulders deflating. “It’s my mom,” I tell the guys, answering.
“Storybook!” my mother greets, sounding bright eyed and annoyingly bushy tailed. “I was afraid it’d be too early for you to answer. Did you have a fun New Year’s Eve?”
I look over at my men in various states of undress, Dimitri hopping into what I’m pretty sure are Killian’s boxers. “Uh. Yeah, I definitely had a good time.”
“I know you’re in college now, so I won’t ask what antics you got up to.” In the background, I hear movement, shuffling, the jingle of keys. “I hated the thought of waking you, but I wanted to catch this New Year’s sale downtown. I just need you to ask your brother a quick question for me.”
I wince at the word. “Killian?” His head snaps up at the sound of his name, gaze locking to mine.