“Well,” he says, grinning, “If I wanted some pu**y of my own, I would just ask for some.”

I startle. But then I realize what he said is so freaking ludicrous that I start to laugh. It’s a deep belly laugh, and I can barely catch my breath. I lean over and kiss him. “You want some, all you have to do is ask,” I say.

He growls low in his throat and pulls me in so he can kiss me.

I pull back when I’m breathless. “Later?” I ask.

His brow arches. He nods, but he avoids my gaze. What is that about?

Pete

Reagan likes the kitten, I can tell. She likes her a lot. She hasn’t stopped cooing to her since we came home. She left her with me long enough to take a shower, and now she’s lying in my bed, her hair damp and hanging over her shoulders, and she’s wrapped around that little no-account kitten. The thing only cost me ten dollars, but I would have paid a lot more than that just to see her smile.

I come out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around my hips and close the door behind me. She looks up from my bed, and her eyelids drop as her eyes roam around my body. My dick gets hard immediately, and I turn away from her long enough to put on a pair of boxers and run the towel back and forth across my closely cropped hair.

“Thank you for the kitten,” she says quietly. Then I hear the bed squeak as she gets up and comes toward me. Her fingertips touch my back. “Do you think one of your brothers might babysit so we can spend some time together?” Her voice is soft and quiet, like her footsteps and the touch of her fingertips. Her voice quivers just like her hands do.

“I can wait,” I blurt out. I’m a pu**y. I know it. I don’t want her to feel like she has to do anything. And in all honesty, I’m afraid it’ll change something between us. What if I can’t meet her needs? She needs to be loved calmly and carefully. What if I can’t do that? What if I get too caught up in the moment and forget about her needs? What if I do it wrong? What if I make her hate me? What if she loathes the idea of having sex with me again after this?

She scoops up the kitten and puts her in my arms. “I don’t want to wait,” she says. She pulls her shirt over her head, and she’s not wearing a bra. My breath leaves my body. All I can see is her perfect rack and her pert, pink ni**les, which are tight and pushing toward me. Ginger struggles when I squeeze her too hard. I look down and force myself to unclench my hands.

Reagan hooks her thumbs in the waistband of her sleep shorts and pulls them down, along with her panties. Oh, dear God.

“Be right back,” I grunt. I turn and slide out the door, stopping to press my back against it once I’m outside, and take deep breaths until my junk realizes it’s not in the room with her anymore.

When I can finally catch my breath, I walk out into the living room and see Paul and Matt sitting there watching a movie. Matt came home about an hour ago, his eyes rimmed in red. He was quiet, but when I went to say something to him, Paul shook his head at me in warning. So, I let it be. I walk over and hit the “pause” button on the TV. They both look up, scowling. But I must look a fright, because they are suddenly concerned. “What’s wrong?” Paul asks.

“Nothing,” I gasp out. I drop onto the sofa and put Ginger in Matt’s lap. He smiles and lets the kitten burrow into his neck. He grins and nuzzles his face into her. I drop my face in my hands.

“She’s not ready, is she?” Paul asks. I f**king hate it when he does this. It’s like he’s psychic. He knows what we’re thinking before we even say anything and he always has. We couldn’t get away with shit, unless Sam and I worked together to pull off one prank or another. Or get arrested.

“She’s ready,” I gasp out. “But… But… But… But…” I shut up, because I can’t find the right words. I groan and flop back against the couch. “What if I f**k it all up?” I ask.

“How do you think you’d do that?” Matt asks. The kitten has nuzzled into the collar of his shirt and sits there, soaking up his heat. “It’s not like you’re a f**king virgin, dummy,” he says.

I don’t even know how to articulate what I’m feeling. Not at all. “I’ve never loved any of those other girls.”

Matt takes a sip of his beer and stares at me. “But you love this one.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. And it’s a fact.

“Yeah.”

“You need a lesson on the birds and the bees?” Paul asks. “You put tab A into slot B.” He makes a crude gesture with his fingers. “Or tab A into slot C.” He grins. “Or Tab A into slot D. But some girls don’t like that, so don’t start there. You might even save that for a birthday or special occasion. Yours. Not hers.”

I pick up a pillow and throw it at his head. He laughs and catches it.

Finally, he says softly. “Stop psyching yourself out.”

“She’s been through so much,” I say. I look toward the closed door.

“You haven’t had any problems being what she needs, Pete. She doesn’t need much. Just for you to love her. Let her lead this. Let her show you what she wants,” Paul says quietly

She’s naked in my room. I already know what she wants. “Okay,” I say. I look at Matt’s, who’s rubbing noses with the kitten. “Can you cat sit?”

“I’ll keep Ginger Von Stinkybutt with me. No problem,” he says. He’s so quiet, and I know he had a hard day, but I don’t know what to say to him.