I pressed my mouth to his.
He tasted of burnt sugar and shock. He froze for a split second, terrified of doing it wrong, before I sighed against his mouth.
"You can kiss back," I whispered.
He broke. With a low groan, his hands came up to cup my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone, and he kissed me like he was trying to breathe me in. It was messy and desperate and tasted like rain. He poured everything into it, the apology, the want, the agony of watching from ten feet away.
When I pulled back, he chased me for an inch before catching himself. His eyes were wet.
"Okay," I breathed.
I turned to Euan. He was watching with a look of clinical fascination masking absolute terror.
I reached out, tangling my fingers in the collar of his shirt as I pulled him gently forward.
"Permission?"
"Affirmative."
I didn't kiss his mouth. I pressed my lips to the center of his forehead, right between his eyebrows where the frown lines usually lived. I felt the tension snap out of him instantly. He slumped, his forehead resting against my shoulder, a hand coming up to brace himself against the wall behind the sofa.
"Grounding," he whispered into the fabric of the hoodie. "Efficient."
I turned back to Kit. My wall. My furniture.
He was watching me with a wolfish, satisfied grin, though his eyes were soft.
"Do I get a permission slip too?" he teased, though his voice wavered.
I leaned back into him, tilting my head up until my temple rested against his jaw. I brushed my mouth over the rough stubble of his cheek.
"You get to hold the structure together," I murmured against his skin.
He made a low, helpless sound in his chest, vibrating through my back. Immediately, he clamped his free hand behind his back, locking it away so he wouldn't grab me harder than the approved forty percent.
"Sorted," he rasped.
I looked at the three of them. The triangle. The mix.
"No choosing," I said. The clarity was sharper than the heat ever was. "I'm not picking a favorite frequency. I need the full spectrum."
Alfie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning wild and shaky. "You’re center, yeah? We orbit you."
A quiet clearing of a throat came from the corner.
Cal had seemingly materialized from thin air. "Right. Heart rates are down from critical. Adrenaline is crashing. And I've put fresh sheets on the big bunk in the back."
He looked at me, mild and unshakeable.
"Tea's on the nightstand. Sleep is the priority. Unless anyone plans on fainting?"
"No fainting," Alfie said, hopping off the table. "We're operational."
"Then move," Cal gently ordered. "Pack sleep. Tonight."
I hesitated. The back bunk was the soundproofed one. The safe one. But it was one bed.
"No sex," I stated. "I'm too... raw. Just sleep. Just weight."
