Page 61 of They Call Me Wicked

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Page 61 of They Call Me Wicked

The rejection sets in fully and I scramble away, tripping and falling straight to my side on the floor with a groan of pain. Agony rockets through my head, almost sending me straight to sleep based on the pressure building around my skull.

Two sets of hands quickly pull me up, fussing over my injuries and setting me back on the couch, sans an impressive anaconda between my legs.

“Stop it, I’m fine.” I swat their hands away, embarrassment flooding me at my behavior. I suddenly just want to be left alone.

I mean, who acts like this? I was almost raped a few weeks ago and now I’m dry humping one man on my couch while another watches, who also happens to be the guy I happily jumped into bed with not that long ago either. And I work with both of them! They’re both living in my house and keeping me safe from a very overprotective and violent stalker. That’s not even mentioning the fact that their third team member is the most infuriatingly sexy man who I also can’t help but want to fuck.

I am such a fucking tramp.

Might as well sew scarlet letters on all my clothes because that’s how I’m acting.

“Woah! Wicked! Stop! Would you calm down? Hey! Stop slapping me!” Kai grabs my hands, holding them still before crouching down in front of me.

“Shit. Sorry, Kai. I didn’t realize…” I mumble the words, my neck, ears, and cheeks heating to a painful degree as my chest tightens.

The couch next to me dips so far down, it uses every one of my abdominal muscles not to fall directly into Ezra as he sits next to me. He places his arm behind me on the back of the couch. The heat emanating from his skin, unable to be ignored.

“Where’s Nic?” I try to change the subject, the need to not ever discuss what just transpired driving my decisions.

“He’s picking up Gizmo and Snitch from Alan’s for you,” Kai replies offhandedly, his thumb stroking over one of my knuckles absently.

“That’s…nice of him.” I stumble over the words slightly. Nic and the wordniceare a completely foreign combination to me.

“Yes, he’s superman. Stop trying to change the subject.” It’s at that moment I really snap back into focus. I think it’s high time I admitted that I have completely underestimated Kai as a whole. I’ve brushed him off as a jokester, unable to take anything seriously. A flirt, unable to be loyal. An airhead, distracted by his own cock on many occasions.

But he’s not, is he?

Yes, he jokes, but he does it to get through the hard stuff. He’s a flirt, yes. But his attention hasn’t wavered since he set his sights on me. An airhead? Hardly. Every step of the damn way he’s reading me better than I’m reading myself. Picking up on the behaviors of everyone else and analyzing them more than even I am, and I’m supposed to be the psychic.

Sure, he acts like a child a lot of the time, annoying everyone and fucking around. But he was also the first to agree to my rules here. The first to make me feel comfortable and not treat me like a burden or annoyance. He was the first to be nice to my little trash pandas. He traded coffees with me because I was paranoid of getting roofied in the middle of the day. He has deftly figured out the things that make my life easier and done them without hesitation, like pointing out where the toilets and sinks are in a bathroom.

And instead of thanking him, I’ve continued to disregard him as a player or a man-whore, someone who can’t take anything seriously. When, ultimately, it’s me who can’t be the adult.

Hindsight is twenty-twenty, and perspective switches are a bitch.

I just hope it’s not too late to treat him how he deserves.

Something small seems to click out of place inside of me, like just a little bit of understanding tore down a piece of the massive wall I’ve encased around my heart, leaving the rest of the structure weakened and leaning.

And I can’t decide if I’m excited or terrified about it tumbling down.

Both, it’s probably both.

“Sorry, Kai. I’m listening now, I promise.” I squeeze his hands in mine, letting him know I really am, and he squeezes back.

“So, what are you worried about, Wicked?” My heart jumps in my throat at his question, because I was kind of hoping he would be doing all the talking, but I breathe deeply.

Come on, bitch. You can give him this. Just be honest. Easy peasy.

“Okay…uhh…” I clear my throat, very aware that Ezra is still right next to me, his arm almost touching my back where it rests on the couch. “I don’t do people well.”

“I don’t know, Wick, you’re pretty damn good at it from what I remember.” Kai’s tone is teasing, but his aura is focused and open to me. Like it’s inviting me in for a hug.

“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean.” I pull one hand out of his to slap him playfully on the shoulder, but he dodges it and pulls me into his arms instead. I lean into his form as he stands and moves us to the couch, sitting down with me on his lap, my feet falling into Ezra’s right next to us.

My heart beat picks up as a large hand grazes over my ankle, encompassing it in its hold before rubbing circles on the side of it. Ezra continues to massage my ankle as Kai’s hands find my back, pulling my head to rest against him while he works out a knot in my shoulder. I moan something unintelligible, bliss trailing through my limbs as they both touch me together.

This must be what Heaven is like.




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