She arches again as my hand slides higher beneath her shirt.Finn’s fingers feather along her waist.Kael gently tilts her chin toward him.
“Let us,” he whispers.
She nods.
Kael kisses her—deep, slow, devastating.
Finn groans into her shoulder.
I rest my forehead against hers, my hand warm on her skin.
She’s in all our hands.
And she’s choosing it.
Wanting it.
Wanting us.
For the first time in months, maybe years, she’s not afraid.
She’s alive.
Soft.
Wanting.
Safe.
We don’t go further tonight.
Not all the way.
Not yet.
We give her everything that isn’t that.
Mouths and hands and heat and breath and closeness so intense it borders on holy.
When she finally sags between us, boneless and trembling and flushed, Finn holds her from behind, murmuring soft things into her hair.Kael sits in front of her, brushing strands from her forehead.I stay pressed at her side, hand firm on her hip, grounding her.
She looks at each of us through heavy lashes, dazed and warm.
And quietly, like a confession:
“I’ve never felt like this before.”
I kiss her forehead.
“That’s because no one’s ever deserved you like this before.”
Her eyes flutter.
She falls asleep on the couch minutes later, tucked between the three of us like we’re the safest place she’s ever known.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t mind being soft.
Not if it’s for her.
