Sam grins at the wild moans from the general direction of the bedroom. She would join her boys but there is something in the way Ryan repeats Stephen’s name over and over again that makes her flip her mobile open instead.
“Lyle, how do you feel about putting your totally-not-so-hopeless pining for our snarky Sir James aside for the evening and fuck the hell out of me?”
“Oh shut your cakehole, West,” Lyle grumbles, though with poorly hidden amusement in his voice.
“How about you shut it for me, Jon?”
There’s silence, which is about as much encouragement Sam needs.