The thought makes my chest tighten. I want the complicated, messy truth of it all. I want Vince’s possessive gaze and Kat’s mischievous smile waiting for me in the morning. Every morning.
The cabin is quiet. I listen for any sound from their room down the hall—a murmur, a laugh, the creak of a floorboard—but hear nothing. Maybe they’re already asleep, tangled together without me.
The door to my room edges open, a slash of dim light from the hall cutting across the floor. Vince stands there, his frame filling the doorway, wearing only a pair of low-slung sweatpants. His hair is damp, and his brows are furrowed in confusion.
“You’re sleeping in here?” he asks, his voice a low rumble in the dark.
“I just figured—” I start, propping myself up on my elbows.
“No,” he snaps.
He strides across the room, closes his hand around my ankle, and yanks me down the mattress until my legs are hanging over the edge. He leans over me, his mouth quirking against mine in a barely-there grin that melts away the anxiety that threatened to keep me up all night.
“You’re so fucking annoying,” he whispers, and any protest dies in my throat as his lips press into mine. Soft and simple.
His hands slide under my back and knees, lifting me from the mattress with ease. The world tilts, my stomach lurching as he cradles me against his bare chest.
He carries me down the dim hallway, my head resting against the steady drum of his heartbeat. Light spills from the open door of the master bedroom, and I can see Kat already in the center ofthe enormous king-sized bed, the sheets a tangled pool around her half-naked body. She looks soft and sleepy, her red curls fanning across the pillow, but her eyes are awake and watching us approach.
“Found a stray,” Vince announces, laying me on the bed next to her.
“Oh! Can we keep her? Please! I promise to takeverygood care of her.” Kat smiles, a slow, knowing curve of her lips as she curls into my side, her leg hooking over mine, her fingers tracing the tattoos across my chest.
“Only if you spank her when she doesn’t behave,” Vince says, climbing in behind me, his chest a solid wall of heat against my back. His arm snakes over my waist, his large hand settling possessively on Kat’s hip where she’s curled into me. “This is where you sleep now.”
A shudder rolls through me, deeper than before, settling in my bones. This isn't a guest room or crashing on the couch; this is a new center of gravity.
The warmth of their bodies holds me in place between them. Their breathing slowly syncs, deep and even against my skin, but my own mind won’t settle.
What happens when we wake up? Is this just a cabin fantasy, a hedonistic detour before we return to our regular lives? The loyalty we’ve weaponized for years feels like it’s crumbling, and I’m terrified the fallout will bury us all.
I shift slightly, a minute adjustment of my shoulder.
“You’re thinking too much,” Vince murmurs into the back of my neck, his voice thick with sleep. His hand, which had been resting on Kat’s hip, slides to my stomach, his fingers splaying wide.
I let out a slow breath, “I’m okay.”
“I swear to fucking god, Ollie. If you don’t spit it out, I’ll get creative in my ways of torture. I have new methods at my disposal now.”
His hand slides from my stomach and drifts lower, fingertips tracing the line of my hipbone through the thin fabric of my pajamas.
“Tell me this is real,” I whisper into the dark, the words escaping before I can cage them.
His body stiffens next to me, and my stomach drops in fear. The same fear that has kept me from being in his bed the whole time.
“You don’t feel it?” Vince asks, his voice rough.
“Of course I feel it, but I’m usually the only one that does.” My voice cracks with the effort of keeping the tears inside my face, where they belong.
His arm tightens around my waist, and his lips press firmly against my shoulder blade.
“I’m sorry. I’m just being needy.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Vince says.
“Isn’t it?” I ask, my voice weak.
The number of times I’ve been called needy by an ex has made it one of my biggest phobias. The voices of every shitty ex I’ve ever had echoes in my head. Good girls don’t ask for what they want; they’re grateful for what they’re given.
