24. Emma

I stretch lazily,the morning sun warming my bare skin as consciousness slowly returns. The scent of Lukas's cologne clings to the pillow, triggering a flood of memories from last night. Flashes of eager hands roaming my body, hungry mouths exploring every inch of my skin, the exquisite fullness of having Lukas and Alex inside me at the same time…

I flush in delicious recollection, my body aching in all the right places. Rolling over, I glance at the clock and jolt upright. Shit, it's late!

Thankfully, it's an off day, so I don't need to worry about strolling into the office in yesterday's dress and raising a few eyebrows. But Selena is going to have a lot of questions for me if I linger here any longer, and I'm definitely at risk of missing our regular Saturday morning yoga date.

I'm hit with the aroma of fresh coffee and…pancakes? My stomach growls. The guys must be up already.

I grab a men's shirt off of Lukas's floor and pad into the kitchen, hoping to grab a quick bite and make my escape. But I freeze when I see who's manning the stove, wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants.

Slade Harrison.

Slade's broad shoulders and muscular back flex as he flips pancakes, humming to himself. Of course he lives here too. Because the universe just loves messing with me.

I start to back away, praying he won't notice, but he chooses that moment to turn around. His eyes rake over my sleep-mussed hair and borrowed T-shirt before a knowing smirk spreads across his criminally handsome face.

"Well, well, well," he drawls, voice still gravelly from sleep. "Looks like someone had a good night." Heat floods my cheeks as memories of our charged first meeting mingle with my current mortification.

I lift my chin, trying to look unaffected even as though I am. "I was just looking for the guys, I'll get out of your hair."

But Slade shakes his head, gesturing to the stack of pancakes on the counter. "Nonsense. You're not going anywhere until you've had some breakfast. I make a mean chocolate chip pancake, if I do say so myself."

Despite my mortification, my stomach chooses that moment to let out a loud rumble.

Slade chuckles. "See? Even your body agrees with me. Now sit down, and let me fix you a plate."

I hesitate, torn between the urge to flee and the temptation of Slade's homemade pancakes. And if I'm being honest with myself, the temptation of Slade himself.

I can't deny the electricity that's been crackling between us since the night we met, the way my body responds to his mere presence, even with everything else going on, Alex and Lukas—and Ryan.

As if sensing my internal struggle, Slade takes a step closer, his gaze holding mine. "C'mon, Emma," he coaxes, his voice low and persuasive. "It's just breakfast. I promise I don't bite." His lips quirk. "Unless you ask me to."

My pulse quickens at the innuendo. The heat in his eyes tells me he's remembering that night at The Gilded Lily, too.

It's wild that my body has this reaction to him. I have strong feelings for the three other guys I'm seeing, but something about Slade calls to me in a primal way.

Swallowing hard, I find myself nodding. "Okay," I agree, my voice emerging huskier than I intend. "Breakfast sounds good."

Slade's smile widens, victorious. "Great. Have a seat." He gestures to the kitchen island. "Coffee? Or do you prefer juice?"

"Coffee, please," I manage, sliding onto a stool, "with some cream."

I watch as Slade moves confidently around the kitchen, pouring me a mug and adding a dash of cream, just the way I like it. I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, inhaling the comforting aroma.

"Thank you," I murmur as he sets a heaping plate of pancakes in front of me, complete with a side of crispy bacon. My stomach growls again in anticipation.

"Anytime," Slade responds easily, leaning his hip against the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. The pose makes the muscles of his torso flex and ripple, and I nearly choke on my coffee.

Holy abs of steel. How am I supposed to eat when he looks like a gourmet meal himself?

As if reading my thoughts, Slade smirks. "Eyes up here, babe," he teases. "Bacon's getting cold."

I jerk my gaze back to my plate, cheeks flaming at getting caught ogling. Grabbing my fork, I busily cut into the pancakes, avoiding eye contact. The first buttery, chocolatey bite nearly makes me moan.

"Wow, you weren't kidding," I mumble around the mouthful. "These are amazing."

Slade grins, pushing off the counter to snag a piece of bacon from my plate. "Told ya," he says smugly, popping it into his mouth. "Stick with me, sweetheart. I'll keep you very well fed."

The words are playful, but the heated look he gives me from beneath his lashes is anything but. I squirm on my stool, all too aware of his proximity, of my state of undress, of the unspoken desire building between us.

What am I doing, flirting with my colleague in his kitchen the morning after sleeping with his roommates?!

"So, think you're going to make this a regular thing?" Slade asks casually as if he's read my mind, but there's an intensity in his gaze that sets my nerves aflame.

"What, your pancakes? Definitely," I joke weakly.

"Among other things." His voice is a sensual caress. "I have to say, I like seeing you in my kitchen. In my clothes."

I glance down at the worn Blizzards T-shirt and feel a rush of heat between my thighs. Wait, his clothes?

The air feels charged as I look back up. We stare at each other, something dangerous sparking between us. I lick my lips nervously, and his eyes trace the movement, darkening with unmistakable hunger.

My breath catches. Suddenly, yoga with Selena doesn't seem so important anymore. Not when Slade is looking at me like he wants to have me for breakfast.

"I, uh…" I stammer, my cheeks flushing hot. I set down my fork, trying to compose myself. "It's not what you think."

Slade arches an eyebrow, a subtle smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Oh? And what do I think?" He takes a sip of his coffee, his gaze never leaving mine.

My heart pounds in my chest as I search for the right words. I can't exactly tell him that I had mind-blowing sex with two of his best friends and teammates just hours ago, and oh yeah, I'm dating his other close friend on the side.

"Lukas and Alex, they're…we're just friends," I say sheepishly.

Slade's smirk widens into a full-blown grin. "Friends, huh? Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

I narrow my eyes at him, trying to play it cool even as my insides are churning with a mix of embarrassment and…something else. Something that feels suspiciously like desire. "Ha ha, very funny."

Slade chuckles, the sound low and rumbling. He sets down his mug and leans forward, bracing his hands on the counter. "Hey, no judgment here. What you do in your personal life is your business."

I can't help but notice the way his biceps flex, or how his gray-blue eyes seem to darken as they roam over me. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the heat building in my body.

"It seems like quite a few of my friends are your…friends," he says.

Okay, great. So he knows everything. But like he said, there's genuinely no judgment in his tone or his gaze, just a piqued curiosity.

I get the sense that he's sussing me out, looking out for his buddies, trying to make sure that I'm not going to blast through their lives like a tornado.

Always the captain, I guess.

I take a sip of my coffee to clear my throat and then say, "They are. But as we're all mature consenting adults and everyone is aware of what's going on, I don't see a problem. Do you?"

He studies me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then a slow, wicked smile spreads across his face. "No, I don't see a problem at all," he drawls. "In fact, I think it's pretty damn hot."

My eyes widen at his bluntness. I nearly choke on my coffee. "You…you do?"

Slade nods, his gaze raking over me in a way that makes my skin tingle. "Hell yeah. A gorgeous, smart, funny woman like you, keeping a few of Chicago's most eligible bachelors on their toes? What's not to like?"

I feel my face flush at the compliment even as a thrill zips through me. So he thinks I'm gorgeous, huh? Funny, that's the same word I'd use to describe him.

I look away, desperate to break the charged silence. "So, uh, how long have you been playing hockey?" I ask awkwardly.

Slade chuckles, the sound ringing through me pleasantly. "Since I could walk, basically. My folks put me on skates before I was even out of diapers."

We fall into easy conversation, swapping childhood stories and bonding over our shared love of the sport. As the minutes tick by, I find myself relaxing, my earlier discomfort all but forgotten.

There's just something about Slade that puts me at ease, even as his mere presence sets my nerve endings on fire. It's a heady combination, one that has me both craving more and terrified of getting too close.

I take the last bite of my pancake, and Slade reaches across the counter, his thumb brushing gently against the corner of my mouth.

"You had a little something there," he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

I swallow hard, my skin tingling from his touch. "Thanks," I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.

His hand lingers, cupping my cheek. I find myself leaning into his palm, chasing the warmth of his skin against mine. Our eyes lock, the air between us suddenly electric.

Slade slowly leans in closer, his lips parting slightly. I can't breathe, can't think.

All I can focus on is the heat of his body, the scent of his skin, the promise of his kiss.

God, I want him so fucking badly.