“Fuck, you need therapy. There is something seriously wrong with you. And the fact that I’ve been sucked into this warped as fuck world of yours means I need therapy too.”

But he shed his clothes, resigned to his fate. I regretted everything as his firm and disgustingly formed chest came into view. He wore tight, silky black boxer briefs while I wore boring regular briefs. His thighs were thick and solid, while mine were scrawny with knobby knees. Even his ass was muscled. Turned out, I did not get the hot ass gene.

Motherfucker!

“I hate you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because you got all that.” I waved a hand, encompassing his body. “And I got all this.” I did my best to cover my near nakedness with my arms. It was embarrassing.

“We have the exact same genes, idiot. I work out, and you don’t. That’s what happens. You could have this.” He made an exaggerated, flourished gesture at himself while being all buff without even flexing. Then he flinched and recoiled. “Eww, stop looking at me. I just realized you were checking me out and… No! No, no, no! Enough. Ugh, gross. Come on. Let’s get this over with. I need to get drunk, like, yesterday.”

We re-entered the room to three pairs of eyes devouring us like we were chocolate-coated candy with sprinkles. It was weird.

Jay quirked a smile but covered it with the hand that was by his chin, acting like he was pondering. I didn’t miss the glimmer in his eyes. His gaze was calculating and deliberate. Analyzing, assessing, measured, and a tad bit hungry if I was reading him right.

My gaydar alarms went off, and I’d have sworn on my grandmother’s grave Jay, hotness himself, was a gay man—which made sense when I considered what this woman wrote and what he did for a living. I’d have gotten excited except it was at that precise moment I noticed the gold band on his left hand.

Figures.

“Come on into the room,” Jay said, waving a hand.

Asher marched, arms crossed over his bulging chest until he stood before Charlotte and Lewis. I followed, more reserved and self-conscious about my thinner frame. Shoulder to shoulder, but not touching, we stood and allowed these strangers to pick us apart like we were cattle being graded for the slaughterhouse.

I wondered if we were grade A, top choice meat. Asher might be, but I was the stuff they ground up to make hamburgers.

Charlotte whispered to Lewis, and Lewis whispered back. They were impossible to read. Jay appeared over my shoulder, wedging himself between us. His hand came down on my bare hip and radiated goose bumps over my flesh.

He must have done the same to Asher because my brother jerked away and gave Jay a horrified glare. The sudden action caught everyone’s attention.