From Riding the Storm by Sydney Croft.
He had used his second sight briefly to study Rich, the way his black hair was shorter than Dev normally liked, but still long enough for him to twist in his fingers, the way his eyes were more light brown that chocolate… the way he was never going to compare to Dev’s memories.
Nothing ever would.
“You’re the one who’s going to get f*cked tonight,” Dev had murmured, his hand holding firm to Rich’s biceps in a grip that showed there was no room for arguments. Or memories.
Three in bed was too crowded.
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