ALEXEI - Part Two

ALEXEI - PART TWO

The evening played out exactly as I expected. Orla and I drank vodka upstairs until she fell asleep in the bed I shared with Cam and Saint, and by the time I extracted myself from that utter delight, everyone else was asleep too.

Liliana, Ivy, and Juana were in the second bedroom. River and Embry were on the sofas.

I eyed Embry as I passed him, scrutinising him for signs of trouble, but it was habit more than necessity. The chaplain was healthy and whole. The only thing missing from the scene of him sleeping on Cam's big sofa was Mateo wedged in beside him, though the thought of the grouchy enforcer at a folk music festival was amusing enough for me not to feel too bad that Embry was sleeping alone.

River was falling off the sofa. Knowing he slept as lightly as I did when Cam and Saint did not surround me, I stepped over his dangling arm, leaving him to the fate of gravity, and continued into the kitchen, searching for coffee and the love of my life.

I found both in the low light of the room.

He had the baby again, gifting Juana a night to herself if you did not count the crowded bed she slept in, or the empty travel cot waiting for Hope when Cam finally put her down.

"You like this." I came up behind him and placed my chin on his shoulder, appraising the sleeping infant in his arms. "The full house. The full arms."

Cam hummed, not denying it. "She's a good baby."

"She is as good as the people around her."

"She likes Locke the best."

"You do not?"

"I'd like him more if he hooked up with Juana instead of my sister."

"Why?"

Cam shifted the sleeping baby to his other arm. "Juana needs him more."

"What about Nash?"

"What about him?"

"Perhaps he needs Locke too."

Cam grunted, but I knew my observation wasn't lost on him. If he could've picked a second lover for Orla, it would surely have been a man as loyal and brave as Locke Halliwell. But he was right about Juana. Not that she needed a man, more that one such as Locke—a brother already trusted and loved by Mateo—would've been rather convenient.

"I'm going to put her down."

Cam took the baby upstairs.

I moved to the utility room to discover what madness had befallen it while I hadn't been paying attention. Cam was domesticated, but busy. Saint did not care unless he was doing something for someone else.

That is why I found Cam's clothes neatly folded and his own scattered on the floor.

I picked them up, all three items, and resisted sniffing them.

Just.

Cam returned and flicked on a low light. "I don't have cat eyes."

"I did not say that you did."

He shut the door and came up behind me, taller and broader, caging me with his thicker build whether he meant to or not.

I didn't mind. Cam and Saint—there were few things they could not do to me.

"You should get some sleep," Cam murmured, lips at my ear.

"Where?"

"Our bed."

"Your sister is in it."

"So? You get in the bath with her."

"Do not exaggerate, biker boy. It does not become you."

Cam snorted, a warm puff of breath across the nape of my neck. "I feel like I went to sleep one night and woke up the next morning to you and my sister being lifelong BFFs. I mean, it's nice, but I didn't see it coming."

"Why not? She treats me as she treats Saint. Impatience and love."

"I know. Does that mean I have to take baths with Locke, though? Because that might be awkward. He thinks I'm an idiot half the time, I can tell."

"Sometimes you are an idiot."

"You're a fucking charmer."

"You like me this way."

"I love you, Lexi."

And there it was. The raw, honest feeling this man could never hide. The emotion that flayed me open and swept me off my cynical feet.

I did not care about laundry anymore. I rotated to face him, and he kissed me with his rough lips and bearded jaw, his hands and arms gathering me to him so tightly it was hard to remember that I had lived a whole life before the first time he'd done this to me.

"I miss you," he whispered.

"Literally or sexually?"

"Both. Neither. I don't know."

More honesty, but I understood what he didn't. That what he missed was the world we'd lived in before Folk had dragged me from the sea. Because he knew that there had been a part of me prepared to die that night—to leave him—and he could not deal with that.

He did not even try.

I stole another kiss. Then I held him. "I am here, I promise."

Cam breathed me in, his heart beating too fast, unnatural heat beneath his skin. It was a moment where, without Saint to anchor us, we would often fuck until Cam's demons grew tired of testing him, until the next time at least. And we had fucked in this room too many times to count.

But that was not an option tonight. Cam was not a quiet lover. Naked, he was as loud and brash as his temper.

Unless…I toyed with the idea of gagging him, and imagining his reaction let me know that perhaps he was right about how tired I was to even contemplate such a thing.

You know you are tired.

I just did not like it.

Cam took a breath, steadying himself. Over the past few months, he'd got better at that, without the need for the brand of therapy Saint, River, and Embry sought out from Folk. Had he been doing yoga with Rubi?

Unlikely, but I would watch.

"You're not really here."

"Hmm?"

Cam hooked two fingers beneath my chin, drawing my gaze from where it had locked onto the newest tattoo on his body—the sign of the Libra. Of balance and justice. Since Locke had joined us, there seemed to be a newfound collective fascination with astrology, though in truth, I blamed Rubi. He had an excuse for everything.

A low growl rumbled from Cam's chest. "You're dead on your feet."

"I am very much alive."

"And I'm glad of it, but I'd be happier if you were in bed with my sister."

"Say that with a straight face."

"There's nothing straight about me."

Cam grinned. It looked good on him, and I could not resist claiming his mouth again, a spark to a fire we could not let catch. But still. There was something about this room—the dark walls and low ceiling. The lack of air. It was a madness, but it made me crave everything I could not have tonight.

Still smirking, Cam pulled away, his shoulders rising and falling for reasons that sucked more oxygen from the room. "What do you need, Lexi?"

"Do not call me that when you cannot see it through."

His gaze flickered. He called me Lexi when he forgot himself. When how much he loved me robbed him of the ability to say my whole name.

He called me Lexi when he was fucking me, and he could not do that now.

He cannot.

A strange panic swept over me. I spent much time considering what Cam and Saint needed from me, but sometimes I forgot how much I needed them too.

In ways that were healthy.

Some that were not.

Cam's grip on my chin tightened.

Then it was gone and I found myself in motion, my feet lifted from the floor, my body propelled backwards as he manhandled me onto the dryer.

He was the only soul alive who could touch me in such a way. Saint did not want to. Cam needed to. It was part of him, and I'd come to learn I could not live without it.

He stepped between my legs and swept a hand down my body, coming to a natural stop at the compulsive bulge in my jeans.

At my cock.

He kissed me again, then his whole body descended, and cool air hit me, my jeans ripped away. "Cam?—"

"Shh."

He took me in his mouth, something he had done before—the night we met and since—but I never did for him. I only did it for Saint, and him for me, and I could not say why.

I did not want to think about it, and I didn't have to. Cam stole my ability for such things. He stole everything except the wicked sensation of his rough mouth on me, and his work-hardened palm slapped clumsily over my mouth.

Shh .

A comfort.

A necessity.

I was not loud. But this? It did something to me, to have such a powerful man contorting his body in half to pleasure me, and Cam knew it.

He did not use his hands.

Just his mouth, one strong forearm keeping me still.

It was not a restraint, but from him, I would not have minded if it was. I would not have noticed, perhaps.

Cam's mouth was hot and firm. His teeth an electric scrape on my length.

My muscles bunched, my nerves taut with pleasure. A harsh gasp tore from my throat—a shocked gasp. Even after all this time, it still surprised me that these men could undo me so easily.

Cam raised his gaze, my cock sliding between his lips, his eyes dark with lust-laced empathy.

With love.

He dug his fingers into my thigh and swallowed around my cock, and something inside me broke.

A coil.

A dam.

It mattered not.

I surged down Cam's willing throat, and the sweet oblivion set me free.

Cam released me and came upright, catching me before I could slide from the dryer. I was not usually so messy after sex, but I was so tired today.

I can do nothing but breathe.

Cam held me for a long moment, steady in a way he did not always feel. "I love you, and I'll stand here all night if you need me to, but will you please just go to fucking bed?"

"You manipulated me with a blowjob?"

"I'd never do that."

He would not. I pressed my face into his musky chest. Then I sighed. "Okay. But I will dream of you."

"Of course you will."

He eased me from the dryer, planting his feet on the floor as I slipped around him. Apparently, he was staying with the laundry, which made no sense. Or perhaps it did, just not to me.

I left him, moving silently through the living room, and up the stairs.

Not a soul was awake, and that suited me.

I closed the door to the room where Juana and the children slept, and stepped across the landing to the other, prepared for Orla. Unprepared for the pure laugh that burst free of my lungs at the sight that greeted me.

Cam wanted me to go to bed, but there was a flaw in his plan. A beautiful, enchanting flaw.

I could not sleep with Orla, because Saint already was.