A laugh bursts out of me. “Really, Blake?”
He winks. “What? It’s accurate.” Then a devilish glint flickers in his eyes. “You want to, don’t cha?”
Before I can respond, Chase moves up behind him, sliding his arms around Blake’s waist and pulls him close.
“I know I do,” Chase says, his voice husky and full of desire.
The moment their lips meet, my body goesstill.
It’s a slow, intimate kiss—filled with an unspoken language only they understand. Chase’s fingers dig slightly into Blake’s sides, pulling him even closer, while Blake tilts his head, deepening the kiss.
Heat pools low in my stomach, my thighs pressing together on instinct.
Watching them is just as intoxicating as I remember.
Blake pulls back first, turning his gaze to me. “Hey, Little One.” His voice is deep, teasing. “Come here.”
I don’t hesitate.
Blake reaches out, cupping my chin between his fingers. His touch is firm but gentle, his dark eyes locked onto mine. Then, without looking away, he speaks.
“Kiss Chase.” He speaks firmly with an authoritative tone as he stares at me, leaving no room for argument.
A shiver runs down my spine.
I obey.
Chase’s lips are warm, soft against mine. His fingers trail down my sides, squeezing gently before pulling me closer. It's a heated kiss, sending sparks through my veins, making my head spin.
When I finally pull away, I have to catch my breath, my heart racing.
Blake’s voice is low, commanding. “Now me.”
I rise on my toes, pressing my lips to his without hesitation. His grip tightens slightly, his free hand settling on my hip, fingers pressing into the fabric of my sweater. The kiss is different from Chase’s—where Chase is softer, Blake is more intense, morepossessive.
When we break apart, my skin is flushed, my pulse wild.
Blake smirks. “Alright,” he says, stepping back. “Let’s make some pizza before I get too distracted.”
I exhale a shaky laugh, accepting the apron Chase hands me. “Yeah, let’s do that.”
The three of us work together, rolling out dough, layering toppings, stealing bites of cheese when we think Blake isn’t looking. We talk—about hockey practice, about Antony, about anything and everything.
It feelseasy.Natural.
It feelsright.
By the time we’re curled up on the couch, pizzas demolished and the TV playing in the background, I feel lighter than I have in weeks.
Blake sits in the middle, Chase on one side, me on the other. I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder, Chase’s fingers trailing absentmindedly up and down my arm that’s placed on Blake’s chest.
I let out a breath, building the courage to ask the what's been gnawing at the back of my mind.
“So… this. Us.” My voice is soft, hesitant. “This is still what you want?”
Both boys shift in their seats, their attention snapping to me, and I sit up, ready for the deep conversation to come.
“Of course,” Blake says immediately.
