I kiss her again, harder this time. Let myself be messy about it. Let my hands slide from her jaw to her shoulders to the curve of her waist under the water. She arches into my touch like she’s been waiting for it, and the knowledge that shewantsthis—wantsme—is so overwhelming I have to pull back before I combust.
Malrik’s there when I do. His mouth finds the side of my neck, teeth grazing my pulse point, and I choke on air.
“Oh fuck—”
“Still with us?” His voice is low. Amused.
“Barely. Definitely. Possibly dying.”
He laughs against my skin, and the vibration of it sends sparks down my spine. Then his hand—the one that was on my back—slides lower. Under the water. Across my hip.
I go very, very still.
“Okay?” he asks.
“If you stop now I’ll kill you.”
“Noted.”
Kaia watches us with eyes that have gone darker than I’ve ever seen them. Her lips are swollen from kissing me. Her chest rises and falls with unsteady breaths. And the expression on her face—
She likes watching us.
The realization hits me like lightning. Shelikesit. Not jealousy. Not uncertainty. Just pure, undiluted want.
“See something you like?” I manage, aiming for cocky and landing somewhere around desperate.
“Yes.” No hesitation. “I see two of you. Together. And I—” She stops, swallows. “I want to be in the middle of it.”
Fucking hell.
Malrik moves before I can respond. His hand leaves my hip—I make a sound of protest I’m not proud of—and reaches for Kaia instead. He pulls her closer, positioning her between us, and suddenly I understand exactly what he’s doing.
He’s not taking over.
He’sarrangingus.
Like pieces of a puzzle. Like he knows exactly where everyone fits.
Kaia’s back presses against my chest. Malrik faces her, close enough that their noses nearly touch. And I’m behind her, arms automatically wrapping around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder.
“Oh,” she breathes.
Yeah. That’s about right.
“Better?” Malrik asks, and I can hear the smile in his voice even though I can’t see it.
“I—” Kaia’s hands find mine where they rest on her stomach. Our fingers intertwine. “Yes. Better.”
“Good.”
He kisses her.
I can’t see it properly from this angle, but I feel it—the way her whole body softens against mine, the little sounds she makes into his mouth, the way her grip on my hands tightens like she needs something to anchor her.
I press my lips to her shoulder. Trace a path up her neck. Let myself do all the things I’ve been imagining for months—the spot behind her ear that makes her shiver, the hollow of her throat where her pulse flutters, the curve where her neck meets her shoulder that I’ve wanted to sink my teeth into since the first time I saw her.
She moans. Actually moans. Loud enough that I feel it vibrate through her whole body.
