dark. Heat arrowed down my torso and pooled between my thighs. I clutched my housewarming gift closer to me as my breaths quickened. Despite my love of crystals, tarot, and all things mystic, I didn’t believe in magic. Not the spells and broomsticks kind, anyway. But in that moment, I was certain that Christian could crawl inside my mind and pick out every dirty, wicked fantasy I’d had of him. His stare burned a hole in my cheek as the crisp April afternoon turned into a furnace. The sun blazed a ruthless path over my exposed skin and slowed my heartbeat while the silence wrapped tight hands around my throat.
I might’ve suffocated right there on the front steps had Jules not opened the front door and saved me. “Stella! Christian! I thought I heard you guys,” she bubbled. “I’m so glad you could make it!” The tension collapsed, pulling Christian’s gaze away from me and loosening the string holding me upright until I sagged against my boxed candle gift set with a mixture of relief and disappointment. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.” I thrust the box at her, hoping she couldn’t pick up on my restlessness. Once Jules scented a whiff of gossip, she chased it down like a dog after a bone. “This is for you. Happy housewarming.” Her eyes lit up. She lived for presents. She once told me it was a shame Santa wasn’t real because, as old as he was, she’d fuck him if it meant she’d wake up to a different gift every morning. Granted, that had been after three eggnogs over the holidays, but still. Jules Ambrose’s mind worked in fascinating ways. “Thank you! Come in, come in. Everyone’s already in the living room.” She took the gift with one hand and opened the door wider with the other. “Just take off your shoes and leave them by the door.
I personally don’t care, but Josh is anal about that.” She rolled her eyes in good-natured exasperation. “That’s because I don’t want people tracking city dirt and grime all over our floors, you heathen.” Josh came up behind her and kissed her cheek before greeting us with a dimpled smile. “Hey, guys. Welcome to our humble abode.” He swept a dramatic arm around the two-story townhouse. I’d visited before, so I was familiar with the hardwood floors and charmingly mismatched décor—Jules’s fluffy pink rugs next to Josh’s black leather furniture, her red lip-shaped pillows offsetting the hideous paintings strewn on the walls. Josh was easy on the eyes, but his taste in art was questionable at best. “Nice art,” Christian drawled. “Thanks.” The other man beamed. “I picked it out myself.” “I can tell.” I shot Christian a quick look, but his expression was impassive. “I am not a heathen.” Jules was still stuck on what Josh called her. “As for the grime and dirt, that’s what cleaning is for.”
“Yeah? And who does the cleaning?” he asked as we walked toward the living room. His lean frame moved easily around the skis propped haphazardly against the open door of the front hall closet and the empty Crumble & Bake box half-sliding off a side table. He was an ER doctor at Thayer University Hospital, but with his tousled dark hair, tanned skin, and razor-sharp cheekbones, he could play one on TV as well. “I do,” Jules said primly. “When I have time.” “The last time you had time, you spent it giving yourself an at-home facial.” “My skin needs pampering. Being a lawyer is stressful.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Might I remind you that the last time you had time, you spent it getting your ass whooped at chess by Alex?”
Josh scowled. “I did not get my ass whooped. I was getting the lay of the land. Figuring out his weaknesses.” Jules patted his arm with a soothing hand. “There, there, babe. It’s okay. I still love you even if you suck at strategy.” I swallowed a laugh at their bickering. Some things never changed. We entered the living room, where the rest of the party sprawled across two leather
couches. Bridget jumped up and hugged me the instant she saw me. “Stella! It’s so good to see you!” “You too.” I squeezed her tight. To the rest of the world, she was a queen, but to me, she’d always be the girl who I binge-watched The Bachelor and stayed up late drunkenly discussing the philosophy of life with when we were in college. “How’s the royal life treating you? Behead anyone lately?” I teased. She released an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately not, though I was tempted to sentence the minister of the interior to the guillotine. Rhys talked me out of it.” She cast a playful glance at her husband, whose muscled, six-foot-five frame made the couch he was sitting on look like a piece of doll furniture. “Half me talking you out of it, half the fact no one uses guillotines anymore.” Amusement softened his battle-hardened gray eyes. “I could bring them back. I’m the queen. What I say goes.” Bridget sank back onto the seat next to him with regal haughtiness, though her face glowed with mischief. A grin split his face. “Of course you can, princess.” He murmured something else too low for me to hear.
Whatever it was, it made Bridget’s cheeks flush pink with pleasure. Jules nudged Josh in the ribs with a dreamy sigh. “Why don’t you call me princess? It’s so cute.” “Because you’re not a princess. You’re a hellion,” he said, earning himself a deep glare. “And that’s just the way I like it.” He drew her to his chest and planted a dramatic kiss on her lips. Jules made a half-hearted attempt to push him off, but laughter bubbled from her throat. “Nice save, Chen.” The lighthearted atmosphere eased my earlier tension as I leaned over to hug Ava. She was curled up next to Alex, who eyed the other couples’ sweet interactions with distaste while he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders. “If you want to engage in PDA too, now’s the time,” I joked. She laughed. “Noted, but we’re good for now.” Her voice dropped to a stage whisper.
“Alex is allergic to PDA.” “I am not allergic.” He grimaced when Jules looped her arms around Josh’s neck and said something that made his face soften. “Merely disturbed.” “Alex has performance anxiety,” Josh said without looking away from Jules. “It’s okay, dude. Happens to the best of us. Maybe you can invest in the development of a pill that’ll help with your problem.
It’ll be like Viagra for kissers.” “If I were to invest in the development of anything, it would be a custom muzzle to keep you quiet.” A mischievous dimple creased Josh’s cheek. “Alex Volkov spending all that R&D money on me? I’m honored.” Jules buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking with laughter. Ava placed her hand on Alex’s arm. “Don’t kill them,” she warned. “We can’t lose a bridesmaid and best man this close to the wedding.” “The term best man is false advertising.” Alex pinned Josh with a dark glare. “I should swap you out with someone else.” “You can try, but I’m your only friend, and who can throw a better bachelor party than me? That’s right, no one.” Josh answered his own question. “Besides, I already put down the deposit for the jumbo banana float and custom poker cards. They’re illustrated with a drawing of Ava and a robot in a suit.” I turned my head away so Alex couldn’t see my smile.
Besides Ava, Josh was the only person who could get away with provoking Alex like that.
Maybe. “Christian, it’s nice to see you again!” Ava chirped before her fiancé strangled her brother to death in the latter’s living room. “I didn’t realize you were coming.” They’d met once at Bridget’s wedding, but meeting someone once had never deterred her from treating someone like they were an old friend. “I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to hang out with Stella’s friends,”