plan, Houston pulled out a deck of cards and started dealing while Loren whooped and rubbed his hands together.
“What’s the bet tonight, boys?”
A pang of nostalgia hit me like a lightning strike.
Frustrated, I shook it away. I didn’t want to hope. I snatched up my cards when Houston was done dealing, only to tense when Braxton sat next to me with her dinner. There was a table, but she’d chosen the couch. I didn’t want to think about what that meant. As she settled in, Loren immediately ashed the joint and waved the smoke away. Braxton was careful not to sit too close, but I could smell her soap, or maybe her shampoo, and that was enough. For now.
There was no forgetting how it felt to be inside her.
“Does anyone mind if I change the channel?” she asked us while reaching for the remote.
Houston, without giving her his full attention, nodded his consent.
“Thanks.” She channel surfed for a while before settling on a movie.
When we saw she’d chosen The Legend of Tarzan with Alexander Skarsgård, Loren snorted. I sent him a warning look, and he piped the fuck down.
Pretending not to hear him, Braxton closed her eyes, and I watched as her lips moved in silent prayer. My eyes bucked as I looked on because I’d never taken her for religious.
The moment her eyes opened, I looked away, and she immediately dug into her shrimp scampi. It looked good as hell, and I felt my stomach tighten. The only problem was that I only had a taste for her.
Near the end of the movie, when the villain was leading Tarzan into a trap using his girl, my phone chimed once, signaling I had a text. Houston’s phone had also gone off at the same time.
Frowning, I checked the screen and saw that it was a message from Loren in our group chat.
Lo: I bet if one of us yells like Tarzan, Brax will be so turned on she talks to us.
Our phones chimed again with another text from him.
Lo: Not it.
Houston and I looked up from our phones to stare at Loren. I already knew he was serious. Grinning, he sent two more texts.
Lo: Houston’s got the pipes.
Lo: Can’t hurt to try.
Just as he started to send another, Houston slapped Loren’s phone out of his hand. It skipped and scattered across the floor, making Braxton jump and drawing her attention to us. I could see the question in her brown eyes, but it was gone in one blink, and then she turned back to the movie.
Loren ignored his phone lying on the floor across the room while we played another hand, which I won. Possibly the hardest thing I’d ever done was sit here and ignore Braxton’s presence. Every time she shifted on the couch, laughed under her breath, or let it catch from something happening in the movie, I was aware, yet I had to pretend otherwise.
Once the movie finally ended, Braxton stood and began washing her plate. Since her back was turned, I felt free to watch her.
She was fully clothed tonight even though she’d been completely naked and riding Loren’s pillow three hours ago.
When she was done, I felt like all the air had been kicked from my lungs when she bent to pick up Loren’s phone near her bare feet. The three of us went still as she straightened while staring at the lit screen.
Loren didn’t keep a lock on his phone so all she had to do was tap and swipe up to see his last open window. She didn’t even bother to conceal her curiosity from us either.
Helplessly, we watched as Braxton read Loren’s texts.
When she was done, without a word, she calmly placed his phone on the counter before leaving the room.
“Shit,” Loren swore.
Feeling our glares, he hung his head.
Pissed was an understatement when I shot to my feet, but I didn’t bother pummeling him. Braxton had already made him feel worse than I ever could. “Find somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
Loren’s head shot up. When he saw I was dead serious, he looked to Houston, who shrugged. This was my show and my shot to call, but we were both still caught off guard by Houston’s refusal to interfere. Control was not something he relinquished without a bloody fight.
Braxton was changing everything.
“This is bullshit,” Loren spat like I gave a damn.
“Wheelchair.”
It was all the reminder he needed before he stormed off the bus.
Sighing, I headed for the shower while Houston cleaned up.