“Cameras?” Chris asks, his voice strained.
“Not inside,” Wyatt says immediately. “Just perimeter. We’re safe.”
The word ‘safe’ shouldn’t be as erotic as it is, but coming from Wyatt, it makes my knees weak. But there’s another meaning that sinks in like cold water. When I go still, holding my breath, they both notice.
“What is it?” Wyatt asks, peering down at me with brow furrowed.
Heat floods my cheeks. “I don’t have any birth control besides condoms. The IUD—they removed it, and I haven’t—we shouldn’t—I don’t want to risk it again.” I leave out the fact that I’ve already scheduled a procedure to make sure I’m permanently protected, but now doesn’t feel like the right time to share that detail.
I brace myself for them both to back off, which would be the logical thing to do when told we can’t fuck. I don’t even think I’d trust condoms right now.
But that isn’t what happens.
“Hey,” Chris says softly, standing up behind me, his hands gentling on my waist. “It’s okay.”
“We’ll keep our pants on,” Wyatt promises, and the rough edge to his voice makes it clear how much that’s going to cost him.
“Will you?” I ask, twisting to look between them.
“If that’s what you need,” Chris says. “But Nina?” His thumb traces along my lower lip. “There are other ways to make you feel good.”
The promise in his voice makes me shiver.
“Let us take care of you,” Wyatt says. He frames my face with his hands, his gaze intense and earnest.
Chris squeezes my hip as if in agreement, then coasts his fingertips up my belly.
Instead of answering, I kiss Wyatt again. Soft at first, then deeper when he responds immediately. His hands tangle in my hair, angling my head so he can take more. I taste blood and pull back, wincing when I see his split lip has started to bleed again. I reach up to touch it but he just shakes his head, dipping to capture my lips again like he’s making up for lost time.
Behind me, Chris moves closer and I can feel the hard length of him against my back. The awareness of his arousal sends liquid heat through my veins.
I twist halfway again to find Chris’s mouth with mine, instinct pulling at us already. He meets me with urgency, his mouth hot and desperate against mine. Different from Wyatt’s careful restraint—Chris kisses like he’s drinking me in with thirsty gulps.
When we break apart, all three of us are breathing hard.
“Bedroom,” I manage.
But Chris is already sliding his hands under my camisole, cupping my breasts, and Wyatt’s mouth is on my neck, and suddenly moving seems impossible.
27
Nina
I’d meant to steer us toward the bedroom. Say something measured. Something rational. But Chris’s thumbs brush against my nipples and all thought flees my mind in favor of their touch. Wyatt doesn’t disappoint, teasing his lips along the juncture of my throat, pushing the thin strap of my camisole off one shoulder. He leaves a trail of kisses along the skin as he slides his hands down my sides, hooking fingertips in the elastic of my pajama pants.
It doesn’t feel like the first time. A new gravity pulls at all of us now. Chris traces his thumbs around both hard buds like he already knows the rhythm of my body’s response. Wyatt presses his palm to my low back, fingers slipping lower into my panties, grazing the sensitive area just above my ass. I tilt toward his touch, aching for more. The desperation from before has shifted into something steadier, surer. No aftershocks of guilt or the unspoken dare of who will be the first to walk away. Just heat. Familiarity. The ache of everything we didn’t let ourselves want until now.
That’s when I notice the dried grass stuck to Chris’s shoulder. I reach up and pluck it free, then spot a smudge of dirt across his jaw.
“Wait,” I laugh, breathless. “You two are filthy.” I hold up the blade of grass as evidence. “Rolling around in my yard like teenagers.”
Wyatt’s hand stills on my hip. “Worth it,” he says simply, voice rough.
“I’m all for getting dirty,” I say, brushing at the smudge on Chris’s face, my gaze registering caked dirt on the side of his neck, “but maybe we could start clean? You know, set a baseline before we wreck it completely.”
Chris catches my wrist, his blue eyes darkening with intent. “I have a better idea.”
Before I can ask what he means, he bends his knees and slides one arm under my legs, the other bracing behind my back. I loop my arms around his neck on instinct, a quiet inhale the only thing betraying my surprise. He doesn’t pause. Just turns and carries me out of the kitchen as if this was always the plan.
