Explosive (The Black Opals) by Tori St. Claire

he seen the silent message behind Alyssa’s stare? The invitation she extended without words?
    Damn McTavish’s naivety! Why did it have to be him Alyssa was living with?
    Alyssa entered the room, and Jayce’s lungs cinched into narrow straws. The robe she wore accentuated her sloping curves, and its short hem highlighted legs that could bring a man to his knees. She walked, head down, picking at one fingernail, not bothering to make eye-contact with him. For a moment, Jayce questioned what he thought he understood. Maybe her undressing had been completely natural. Maybe he had mistakenly created more to this than she intended.
    He shook his head. No, he hadn’t imagined the heat that burned in her eyes. Hadn’t fabricated the way she’d come alive in his hands earlier this afternoon.
    “Rum and coke?” McTavish interrupted Jayce’s thoughts.
    Jayce shifted position, turning to look at him. It was there—the touch of sadness he’d anticipated, and that silent grief jabbed a fist into Jayce’s gut. McTavish knew. Didn’t like it, but he understood on some level. What level that was, Jayce couldn’t say.
    “No, thanks. I’ll stick to beer.”
    McTavish gestured at Jayce’s bottle. “Want another?”
    He should say no. He should drag himself to his feet and walk out the door, like he’d started to do until Alyssa fogged his brain with a flash of bare skin. Instead, he heard his voice echo hollowly. “Yeah.”
    He drew in a sharp breath, forced the sound of Alyssa puttering around the kitchen from his mind, and pushed his thoughts into line. He would not dick McTavish.
    We have an arrangement…
    Or not. Fuck. Maybe Alyssa had been telling him the truth all along. No matter how he resented the idea that she wanted McTavish along for the ride, that possibility put things in a whole new light.
    A cold beer appeared beneath his nose. Jayce took it, chugged several swallows, and braved McTavish’s gaze once again. No trace of sorrow lingered. Nothing but McTavish’s usual, devil-may-care grin.
    “Sorry, if that made you uncomfortable.” He gestured at the kitchen entry. “She’s…different, Jayce.”
    Apprehension gripped Jayce. He cocked a wary eyebrow, not wanting to ask for an explanation. Craving one all the same.
    “You haven’t asked what I’m doing with her.”
    Nope, and he damn sure didn’t intend to touch that conversation with a thirty-foot-long pole. Jayce took another swig.
    McTavish sat on the edge of the opposing chair and dangled his drink between his knees. “She came back to town, and we got to talking one night. I didn’t intend—”
    Jayce held up a hand. He forced a casual tone, despite the roiling of his stomach. “None of my business, man.”
    Letting out a hard, drawn-out breath, McTavish frowned. Slowly, he nodded. Then, just as slowly, he shook his head. “No, fuck that. We need to have a chat.”
    Unable to hold in a groan, Jayce sagged against the back of the couch. “Really, we don’t. I get it. She belongs to you. You don’t need to mark your territory.”
    “No.” McTavish continued to shake his head, his voice strangely flat and calm. “You don’t get it. Alyssa doesn’t belong to me. But unless you’ve got some sort of miracle up your sleeve, she’ll never be exclusively yours either. We’re partners in many things.” His blue eyes leveled on Jayce, heavy with silent meaning.
    Jayce blinked. Holy shit! She hadn’t been feeding him bull. He opened his mouth to voice questions he couldn’t quite form, then snapped it shut. Clearing his throat, he tried again. He needed to be sure. Needed to be absolutely certain McTavish had said what Jayce thought he’d heard.
    “Are you telling me—”
    Those blue eyes hardened a degree more. “I’m saying exactly what you think I am. You want her?” He shrugged a shoulder. “She won’t go without me.”
    A frown pulled at Jayce’s brow. Inside, the rebel teen jumped up yelling, demanding to answer the unspoken