She doesn’t need to be.
That softness is why we’ll spend the rest of our lives building a world she can breathe in.
I lean in and kiss her—slow, just her mouth and mine, a press that saysstay, stay, stay.Then lower.Her chin.Her neck.
Her breath catches when I graze the place just beneath her ear.She tilts her head automatically, giving me more room like she knows what I want, what I’ll take, what I’ll give back.
I trail down farther, mouth warm against her throat.She tastes like orange juice and need.
My hand slides beneath her shirt—just enough to find skin.She’s not wearing a bra.My fingers brush the curve of her breast and I swear I lose my goddamn mind a little.
She gasps—tiny.Reacts before she can stop herself.Her hips shift in my lap.
Callaway watches us with that open hunger he never bothers to hide anymore.His gaze flicks between my hand and her mouth.“You good, baby?”
She nods, but her voice breaks when she speaks.“I want—” She stops, swallows.“Take me to bed, I need you two.”
My cock throbs at the way she says it.
I glance at Callaway.His nod is slow, his hand already sliding under the hem of her shirt from the other side.
“We’ll take care of you,” he says.“Come on, sweetheart.”
I gather her into my arms.She makes a sound—somewhere between a laugh and a sigh—and presses her mouth to my jaw as I stand.
Her bare legs wrap around my hips like she was meant to be carried.
Callaway walks ahead of us, pulling the bedroom door open without taking his eyes off her.Off us.
I walk to the bed and lay her down, and for one suspended moment, Cally and I both hover—just watching her breathe.
Her shirt rides up, exposing the soft curve of her stomach.My palm moves there again like it belongs.Like I need to say hello to both of them.
She shivers under my touch.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says, voice husky, cheeks pink.
“I will,” I murmur.“Forever.”
Callaway moves to lay beside her, mouth brushing her shoulder as his hand joins mine over her skin.
“I love you,” he says quietly.
I don’t rush her.
I never will.
She’s stretched out on the bed, shirt pushed up just enough to show skin, her breathing already uneven like her body knows what’s coming and has decided to meet it halfway.Her eyes track me when I move, dark and open, no fear there—just want and that bright, stubborn softness she pretends isn’t dangerous.
I lean over her and kiss her first.Slow.Mouth to mouth.Not taking anything yet.Just reminding her I’m here.
“You don’t have to do anything,” I murmur against her lips.“Just let us.”
Her hands curl into my shirt like she needs proof.“I am.”
That’s all the permission I need.
I slide my palms under the hem of her shirt and draw it up inch by inch, giving her time to feel every second of it.She arches when cool air meets warm skin, a soft sound leaving her throat like she forgot to hold it in.
