Rough Exile: An MMF Bisexual Rough Romance (Chase Islands) by Sorcha Black

Author:Sorcha Black [Black, Sorcha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Belfry Publishing
Published: 2022-05-27T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

It was strange being alone on the island with Ilya. Just the two of us. No chance of Bron walking in to give us shit if he found us doing something he didn’t approve of.

Ilya had bought some new movies when we were in Saint Petersburg, and we’d slowly been working our way through them, sprawled out on the TV room’s cozy couches.

“Do you think that man is wearing makeup?”

“Probably.” I glanced over at him.

He was leaning forward, studying the actor.

“There’s nothing wrong with men wearing makeup if they want to. In America, men do it all the time—they wear nail polish, too. Dresses. High heels.”

He glanced my way, grimacing.

“What?”

“I was going to say men don’t do that here, but I don’t know what people do in the big cities.”

We fell silent and kept watching.

There was a cushion between us—he’d put it there when we’d settled in, as though sitting right next to me was too much of a temptation. Did he think the pillow would be enough of a speed bump to slow down what we both knew was bound to happen?

I tried to concentrate on the movie, but being alone with Ilya made me hyperaware of his every shift in position. Eventually, though, I got drawn into the storyline and the real world faded into the background.

Something brushed my finger, and I looked down. My right hand was on the pillow between us as though it were an armrest. Ilya’s gaze was riveted to the screen, but he’d moved his hand closer to me, and his pinkie grazed mine.

I tried to pay attention to the movie. Was he initiating something against Bron’s rules? I’d thought I would have to seduce him.

We sat that way a long time—him seemingly oblivious to the fact that we were touching, while my entire focus had narrowed to the inch where our pinky fingers touched. His finger flexed against mine, and I thought he would pull away, but the tip of his finger ran over mine so gently, that for a moment I thought I’d imagined it. I glanced down again, making sure not to move my head. In the room’s dimness, the glow from the television made our hands look almost spotlighted—his rough hand next to my much smaller one, his finger stroking mine in long, delicate strokes.

Hell, leave it to Ilya to make grade-school-level flirting exciting. My cheeks tingled. No one had made me blush in years, but this stupid island and its two male inhabitants could tie me in knots and make even my thoughts stammer.

I kept waiting for him to make a move. My imagination ran away with me.

We progressed to hand-holding, his hand big and warm, making me feel weirdly safe. Men were dangerous—they’d always been dangerous to me, other than my father who hardly paid attention to me unless he thought I was slacking, and my brothers whom I still didn’t think of as grown men. Considering some things Ilya had done to me, and had

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