My feet don’t move and my eyelids don’t work properly when I need them to. She spots me quickly and also tenses.
“Shitshit,” Luna curses.
I open my mouth, but the guy’s head pops out of the sheet in a flash. He stares up at Luna with wide, concerned eyes.
I know him.
Chestnut brown hair, tattoo sleeve, and cut muscles, trained in MMA—he’s a twenty-seven-year-old Omega bodyguard.
Paul Donnelly.
“What’s wrong?” he asks Luna, worried. He’s already turning his head towards the entrance.
Towards me.
I’m frozen.
She’s frozen.
Donnelly is like water on a hot summer’s day. Thawed completely, he moves. Carefully slipping out of the bottom bunk while also keeping Luna covered with the sheet.
He’s wearing black pants, but he grabs a tattered Van Halen tee off the floor.
Luna watches him, then looks to me, more wide-eyed.
My vocal cords loosen. “I’m so sorry, Luna.”
Never did I imagine I’d walk in on my almost-nineteen-year-old cousin receiving oral sex. Let alone from a bodyguard. I haven’t even accidentally walked in on Moffy having sex with his bodyguard.
I’m having sex with mine.
Oh my God.
This just became dreadfully more complicated.
“I’m going to come back later,” I manage to add quickly. I head to the door, backing away from this.
“Waitwait!” Luna whisper-hisses. “Don’t leave before I can explain.”
Curiosity has me in a vice. I waver.
I cave beneath the pleading look in her eyes. I do as she instructs and come forward. She shimmies up the headboard and snaps on a bra.
I have many questions. Like why Beckett’s bodyguard is in her room and going down on her.
I shut the door behind me. I’d love for Thatcher to be here, but he’s not even supposed to be in my bedroom. So I can’t call him in as a right-hand.
Donnelly fixes his safety pin that’s functioning as a cartilage earring, and he sits down on an alien beanbag. He appears cool, calm, like I didn’t just interrupt him.
Luna wiggles her shorts on underneath the sheet, and then she slides out of the bunk. Landing on her butt, rather than her feet.
She leans on the bedframe, hugging her legs. “So Donnelly was here to design my tattoo.”
Donnelly nods, slipping a cigarette behind his ear.
I notice his sketchbook on the floor. “I see.”
Luna points to the desk near him. “Donnelly, that’s for you, by the way. Just as payment for the design. I have cash for the actual tattoo.”
He’s in arm’s reach and stretches. Grabbing a burnt orange sweater, a green alien peace sign stitched in the middle. “Sick. Did you make this?”
“Yeah, I knitted it.” Luna shrugs.
Donnelly pulls the sweater over his head. It stops well above his belly-button. He smirks and leans back on the beanbag. “Fits perfect.”
Luna smiles, then to me she says, “Alrighty, so me and him—we’re here for the tattoo design.”
“I believe you, but that doesn’t really explain what I saw.”
She clarifies, “We were in my room going over the design, and I asked him if he could show me what good head feels like.”
I’ve recently asked my bodyguard to put his cock in me, so…
I can relate to Luna, I suppose. On some level.
Recently, Luna has said she prefers one-night stands than having to muddle through the dynamics and complications of an actual relationship.
I’ve shared the same views, so I understand where she’s coming from.
I’m just…
A little stunned that I’m not the only one secretly hooking up with a bodyguard at the current moment.
I steeple my fingers to my lips, thinking. “More facts,” I say. “You and you.” I point from Luna to Donnelly. “Hooked up just because you wanted to see what good head felt like?”
“I knew you’d get me,” Luna says into a nod. “I just can’t really tell the good sex from the bad ones. They all feel pretty good to me, so I came up with a scientific study. Have a baseline that everything is compared to.”
Donnelly raises his hand. “I’m her baseline.”
“I followed that.” My brows crinkle at Luna. “You don’t even like science.”
“Exactly,” Luna says. “Tom, Eliot and I have this theory that you can make anything fun, given the right circumstances. I’m making science fun. With sex.”
I love her.
And we’re both silly grinning right now. But I have to put on my best friend hat because my best friend happens to be her older, very protective brother.
“Maximoff—” I start.
“Can’t know,” Luna says adamantly. “I can’t even imagine what his reaction would be if he knew Donnelly and I hooked up—for scientific purposes—but still.” She looks to Donnelly. “Moffy goes three-fourths Loren Hale, and there is no universe you’d ever survive one-half of my dad if he found out.”
She’s right.
Uncle Lo would surely do damage.
But this is Maximoff. And I’m already keeping one giant secret from him. I can’t imagine holstering another.
I take a sharper breath. To keep so much from him—it will break my heart. It hurts imagining him doing that to me.
Luna notices my wince. “Jane,” she pleads. “It was just a one-time thing. He really doesn’t need to know.”
I glance to Donnelly. He holds up his hands like he doesn’t want to be involved. “I’m cool with whatever she wants to do.”
I can’t imagine he’d be okay with Maximoff or Farrow knowing. But then again, I’m not that close to Donnelly. He could very well be that confident in his friendship with Farrow. Thinking they can weather this together.
Turning back to Luna, I realize my heart has been set this whole time. Her brother is my best friend. My brothers are hers. Given the opportunity, I would hope that Luna would keep a secret for me and not spill it to Eliot and Tom.
And I know Maximoff will understand. My mom taught me that there are some things mightier than friendship.
Sisterhood.
“Okay,” I say to Luna. “I won’t say anything to Moffy.”
Luna charges forward and wraps her gangly arms around my neck, clinging in a tight hug. “If the Thebulan gods were real, they’d anoint you with glitter and a lifetime supply of great sex in thanks for keeping my great sex a secret.”
I try not to blush. Little does she know, I’ve already been anointed with great sex. And I’m glad her “baseline” has fallen into that category, too.
We release and I look to Donnelly. “Don’t you dare hurt her.”
“I’d rather die.” Seriousness coats his voice. This is also the same person who has Cobalts Never Die tattooed on his kneecap and is incredibly close to Beckett—my most honest brother. I think there’s a reason for that.
I forgot the condom.
I return to my bedroom, wide-eyed and dazed. Like possibly I just imagined everything. I close the door behind me, and Thatcher is already on his feet.
Alert and vigilant, and as soon as he sees me, his concern bears down in a dark wave. “What happened?” He speaks hushed, nearing me. His hand slides along the small of my back, his arm wrapping around me. Pulling me closer to his chest.
He’s wearing pants now. And a gray crew-neck.
I crane my head to look up at him, and I start with, “I don’t have a condom.”
“I don’t fucking care about that.”
It swells inside of me a little. Because I failed today, as I typically somehow seem to do, and he doesn’t really care.
“Jane,” he says seriously. “I can tell something happened.”
I want to share this with him. More than I’ve ever wanted to tell someone anything.
I haven’t had that feeling with anyone but Moffy before.
“No one suspected me and you,” I whisper.
“You ran into someone?”
“Luna and another person.” I tread carefully because Thatcher is a loyal bodyguard to the entire team. “I’m trusting that what I tell you stays between you and me. A bodyguard is involved.”