Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106090 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 530(@200wpm)___ 424(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
The kitchen area is barely big enough for one person, let alone three. Every movement brings contact. Liam’s hip brushing mine as he reaches for a cutting board. Knox’s hand grazing my lower back as he passes behind me. Liam and Knox colliding at the sink, their bodies pressing together for one moment before they separate.
Nobody apologizes. Nobody pulls away faster than necessary.
“You’ve got flour on your sweater,” Liam says, nodding at my chest. “Your very pink sweater.”
“I will poison your steak.”
“I’m just saying, it’s a good look on you. Very domestic.”
“You’re a dead man, Calloway.”
Knox snorts, and when I glare at him, he holds up both hands. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it.”
“I was thinking you look beautiful.” He turns back to the steaks, but not before I catch the smirk. “The pink really does bring out your eyes.”
“I want it on record that I hate both of you.”
“Noted,” they say in unison, and something about the synchronicity makes my stomach flip.
I slice vegetables and try not to think about the way my skin tingles everywhere they’ve touched me. Knox seasons the steaks with methodical focus, his forearms flexing as he works. Liam opens the wine and pours three glasses, his fingers lingering on mine when he hands me a glass.
We eat at the small table near the windows. Three chairs, barely enough room to fit. Our knees knock together underneath. Knox’s thigh presses against mine on one side, warm through the denim. Liam’s foot brushes my ankle on the other.
The Malbec is incredible. Marlena was right about that, at least.
“So,” Liam says, swirling his wine. “Our captor has good taste.”
“In wine,” I agree. “Also in victims, apparently.”
Knox snorts. “She called me sexy.”
“You are sexy,” I say without thinking.
His eyes meet mine across the table. Want flares there, banked but unmistakable.
“So are you,” he says quietly. Then his mouth curves. “Even in pink.”
“Oh my god.”
Liam is watching us both. Like he’s on the outside looking in. He doesn’t say anything. Just drains his wine and pours himself another glass.
Knox turns to look at him. Really look, the way he’s been avoiding all day. The moment stretches. Almost imperceptible, but I notice. I notice everything right now, every visible emotion, every shift in body language. The three of us are orbiting each other, pulled together by something we can’t seem to fight.
After dinner, we clean up without speaking. The silence isn’t uncomfortable anymore. It’s anticipatory, like the air before a storm breaks.
Knox washes dishes. Liam dries. I put things away, reaching past them both, my body sliding between theirs in the cramped space. Every brush of contact sends sparks up my spine.
When the last plate is put away, we stand there. Three people, no more tasks to hide behind.
“I should shower,” I say, because someone has to break whatever this is before it breaks us.
Knox barely gets the words out. “Go ahead. We’ll figure out sleeping arrangements.”
Right. One bed. Three people. The social experiment Marlena is so excited about.
I lock myself in the bathroom, leaning against the door for a moment to catch my breath. My reflection in the mirror looks flushed. Wild-eyed. The pink sweater is ridiculous and I’m ridiculous and this whole situation is completely insane.
The hot water helps. Not much, but some. I stand under the spray and let it beat against my shoulders, trying to organize my thoughts into something coherent.
Liam and Knox. Knox and Liam. The two of them together, their history tangled up in silence and want. And me, caught between them, wanting things I shouldn’t want, feeling things I can’t name.
Ten days.
Ten days of this. Of their proximity, their bodies, their unresolved history bleeding into every interaction. Ten days of one bed and no privacy and Marlena watching everything, waiting to see if her hypothesis proves true.
I turn off the water and dry myself slowly, delaying the moment I have to go back out there and face whatever comes next.
When I emerge, wrapped in the softest robe I’ve ever worn—cream colored, because fuck my life—the cabin is quiet. Knox sits on the couch, staring into the fire. Liam stands by the window, watching snow fall against the glass.
They both look up when I step out. Both of them, at the same time, and for a second nobody seems to know where to look.
“Sleeping arrangements,” Knox says. “We need to figure them out.”
“One bed,” Liam points out. “Not a lot of options.”
“Someone takes the couch,” I say. “We can rotate.”
“Or.” Liam pauses. “We could share.”
Knox goes very still. I feel my heart rate spike.
“Share,” Knox repeats.
“None of us slept last night. Whatever she drugged us with doesn’t count.” Liam leans against the window frame, arms crossed. “If we’re going to figure out how to get out of here, we need to actually rest. That couch is five feet long. Neither of you is sleeping on it and being worth a damn tomorrow.”