I smile into Monty’s neck.
“It sounds like he believes that tub is sacred,” I say.
“It is,” Monty replies quietly.“And he’s not wrong.You deserve sacred.”
That almost breaks me.
A few minutes later, Callaway calls out, “It’s ready, lovebirds.Bring our queen.”
Monty lifts me into his arms without hesitation—like I don’t make his muscles twitch, like I’m not flushed and worn and still trembling a little.He carries me through the apartment, past the hallway and into the warm, jasmine-scented haze of the bathroom.
And it’s—God, it’s beautiful.
The tub is already full, steam curling off the surface, salts melting into swirls of pink and white.A towel hangs from the warmer.Music plays softly—some mellow acoustic thing Callaway swears helps balance the nervous system.
“Okay,” he says, grinning, “goddess mode engaged.”
They undress me gently, together.Callaway kissing my shoulders as Monty trails his hands down my spine.My breath catches when their fingertips brush each other over my hips—both of them touching me like I’m precious and theirs.Like we made it here on purpose.
Monty steps in first, pulling me with him, settling behind me.His legs cradle mine as I ease into the water.Callaway joins in front, straddling the edge of the tub, leaning over to brush his lips over my knee, my thigh, my mouth.
They wash me.Hands reverent.Slow.Loving.Callaway pours warm water over my chest and belly while Monty lathers my arms.Their touches overlap.So do their kisses.
I want to cry again, and I’m not even sure why.
Maybe it’s because I didn’t think I’d survive this year.
Maybe it’s because this—this moment, this bath, this impossible love—feels like more than my heart can hold.
“You’re thinking again,” Monty murmurs behind me, fingers brushing my temple.“Tell us.”
I exhale.“I think ...I want to be selfish.”
Callaway stills.“Good.”
I blink.“What?”
“I like when you want things.Say it.Say it out loud.What do you want, Ves?”
“I want this,” I whisper.“I want you.Both of you.I want to feel loved and fucked and chosen.”
“You are.”Monty’s voice is low.Final.
“You did so good for us,” Callaway says again, brushing his thumb over my lips.“You’re ours.And I’m so fucking proud of you.”
My breath stutters.
His eyes drop to my breasts again, now glistening above the water.“You look wrecked, baby.Soft and open and so fucking pretty like this.”
“Cally—”
“I’m not gonna do anything,” he promises.“Not now.But don’t think for a second I’m not thinking about putting you on your knees later and showing you exactly how proud I am.”
Monty hums.“We can take turns.”
I whimper.“But what about you two?”
They laugh—soft and sinful—and Cally presses a kiss to my wet shoulder.
