All thoughts about their roommate trailed away when I saw the inside of their totem cave den.
The open-concept front room was somehow cozy and fantastical at the same time, with walls and vaulted ceilings carved entirely out of stone and painted that warm, ’90s-era orangey-brown.
Next to the living room section’s wraparound couch, a big stone fireplace sat dormant. Above it hung a giant six-foot-high mask that looked like it belonged in some BC museum’s local tribes collection. In fact, there were several artifacts lying around the space that made my throat itch to start asking situation-inappropriate questions about the cost of their home insurance, and whether they were sure they had enough.
The museum-quality feel was softened by several patterned rugs laid over the stone floors and thriving houseplants. Over what appeared to be several generations, someone had gone out of their way to make this front room both official and inviting.
Also, there was a home gym beyond the open door of the bedroom closest to the door and a full kitchen with a stone-and-wood island tucked away behind a curved rock wall.
Immediately, I understood why Callum would have dreamed of living here as a newcomer boy.
“This is our room.” The Total Eclipse—I mean, Gideon—interrupted my gawk-a-thon with a wave toward an open door on the same side of the cave wall as the gym.
Their shared bedroom was bigger than the studio apartment Vikram used to live in before he moved in with Robin. But instead of white walls and popcorn ceilings, the room had stalactites hanging from the ceiling and was carved straight into the rock, with a back wall opening that led into what must have been the original cave system—which featured a lovely waterfall spilling into a hot spring with steam rising off of it.
“You actually live here?” I said to Callum, shaking my head. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Told you the totem caves were impressive,” he answered with a knowing grin.
And he’d been right. But as ancient and majestic as the gigantic room was, I couldn’t help but noticed the furniture was a little matchy-matchy.
Matching nightstands. Matching lamps. Matching wooden headboards carved directly into the stone.
The only thing that didn’t match were the beds on opposite sides of the room. One was made with tight corners and a military-level tuck, and the other was a riot of a light blanket, pillows, rumpled sheets, and what appeared to be a Bear Mountain Grill hoodie.
I somehow knew the messy bed belonged to Callum, and the other one was Gideon’s.
And somehow that guess made this situation start to feel real.
I was really going to have sex. With both of them. Tonight. Like, right now….
My sympathetic nervous system kicked in, and fire lit up the backs of my legs, urging me to run—run as fast as I could.Because this was on the other side of the world from my comfort zone.
But I’d asked for this.
I clenched my muscles and rooted myself to the spot, despite the full-body urge to flee. Because I needed this to achieve my desired outcome: a baby—that may or may not turn me into a bear shifter, too.
“Can I kiss you?” Callum asked.
“Yes! That’s a good next step.”
I latched on to his superior intimacy skills like a lifeline—even though I hadn’t been kissed since my college years at U. Pitt and hadneverunderstood the point of putting my tongue in someone else’s mouth.
Callum’s lips twitched, like my answer amused him. But then his gaze darkened.
His hazel eyes swept across my face, and his large hand curled behind my head—just like the cover of my favorite Ali Hazelwood novel.
Which reminded me:hands.
I should be doing something with mine.
I placed them against his chest, like the overworked adjunct professor from that cover.
Callum’s kiss… It wasn’t like that boy back in college.
Not a sloppy mash. But a slow prying open of my lips. Not a clumsy tongue jam, but a deliberate coaxing—an invitation for mine to taste him back. To entwine. To dance.
Until liquid pooled low in my stomach and my head spun like I was on drugs.
