“Berk,” I murmur, brushing a thumb across her cheek, “you’re going to be the death of us, you know that?”
She laughs, soft and still breathless. “You’ve said that before.”
“Yeah, and I’ll say it again, and again.”
She snorts and hides her face in my chest, and God, if that isn’t my favorite sound.
Emerson lies still; one arm draped over his face like he’s trying to compose himself. Rowen’s on her other side, fingers lightly trailing along her arm, calm as always, but I can tell by the way he keeps glancing at her like he can’t quite believe this is real.
“You’re incredible,” Rowen says, his voice low, reverent.
“Beautiful,” Emerson adds without missing a beat.
Berkley’s cheeks flush deeper, and I tilt her chin, so she’ll look at me.
“Seriously, Berk,” I say, completely sincere, “you just took three guys who are madly in love with you and made us yours. You’re our center. You always have been.”
She swallows, her eyes glassy, overwhelmed. And I get it. We all feel it. This thing between us—it’s not casual. It never was.
Silence stretches between us, warm and thick like honey. Berk’s tucked against me, soft and flushed and perfect, and I’m pretty sure I’m never moving again. If this is what bliss feels like, I’ll stay here forever.
But Emerson, ever the responsible one—even if he hides it under all that broody charm—clears his throat and ruins the moment.
“We should probably get you cleaned up and dressed,” he says, sounding like it physically pains him. “We didn’t lock the door, and Reign should be back soon.”
Rowen mutters something that sounds a lot likedammit, and I groan dramatically because, well... same.
Still, he’s right. We all know it. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
I slowly untangle myself from Berk, pressing a kiss to her shoulder as I help her sit up. She looks deliciously wrecked—hair messy, cheeks pink, lips swollen—and I swear I consider delaying us for another round. But I rein it in. Barely.
We take care of Berk first, grabbing a warm cloth from the bathroom connected to my room. One by one, we tend to her gently, wiping away the places where we marked her, our voices dropping into low rumbles we can’t seem to control. It feels instinctive, almost primal—like something in us is waking up as we move around her, protective and sure.
And now that she’s ours, now that she’s let us close enough to truly feel her… there’s no universe where we ever let her go.
Once she’s clean, we pull our clothes back on clumsily, half-laughing messes. Shirts are inside-out. Socks are missing. Rowen keeps finding reasons to lean over and kiss Berk’s shoulder or temple. Emerson brushes her hair back and fastens the clasp of her bra with a kind of care that makes my chest ache.
Me? I pull her onto my lap long enough to steal one more kiss before I tug her shirt down and say something dumb like, “Ten out of ten, would ruin my life for you again.”
She laughs.God, I love that sound. I think I’d burn cities for it.
By the time we’re halfway presentable, the door creaks open.
Reign walks in, takes one look at the scene—us pretending like we didn’t just emotionally and physically combust—and raises a perfectly judgmental eyebrow.
The silence stretches.
Then she smirks. “So... y’all finally worked your shit out, huh?”
None of us says a word. We don’t have to. I’m grinning like a lunatic, Rowen’s trying to look composed and failing, and Emerson’s got that smug-but-smothered look he wears when he’s feeling too much at once.
Reign rolls her eyes. “Took you long enough.”
She drops a hoodie onto the armchair like she hasn’t just caught us mid-afterglow and turns to Berk with a wink. “When you’re done being worshipped by your boy band, swing by my room. We’ve got best friend things to cover.”
And just like that, she’s gone.
The door clicks shut, and for a second, none of us move.
