“In,” Nil murmurs. “Good. Out.”
My body responds before my mind does. Breath steadies in increments. The noise inside my head dulls, receding as sensation returns.
Stan’s arms remain wrapped around me, his chin on top of my head. Nil keeps my hand enclosed in his, thumb tracing the same path again and again.
“That’s it,” Stan whispers. “You’re doing great, gorgeous.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to. With Nil and Stan, there’s no pressure to perform or explain. They simply let me exist. No expectation but breath.
The room gradually comes back into focus. When I lift my head, I see Stan, his gray eyes dilated wide, tracking me closely.
As panic subsides, a stronger drive rises within me, cutting through every rule I ever made, and stirring arousal below my abdomen. It pushes everything else aside. The ship. The sea. The experiment. The feeling of not noticing sooner, of not beingenough.
I don’t want any of those feelings. I wantthis.
I lift my hand, holding the front of Stan’s shirt to draw him closer. His next breath leaves him shaky, but he doesn’t pull away.
“Em,” he murmurs, rough and careful all at once.
Then I kiss him, the choice clear now that I’m letting instincts drive me, no longer heeding the spiraling thoughts of my overanalyzing mind.
Stan exhales into the kiss, breath breaking into a soft sound ofsurprise and pleasure, as his smile curves slowly against my lips.
“But…” I murmur against his mouth. “I’m not interested in attachment. Not in the traditional sense.”
Stan’s thumb brushes my jaw, light but certain. “Yeah?” he whispers, his lips hovering shy of mine. “We’ll see about that, gorgeous.”
Then he kisses me back, confident yet leisure, as though he has all the time in the world and intends to use it.
He lets me breathe when his lips drift down the line of my jaw and the column of my neck. Heat continues to pool low, slow and heavy, between my thighs, until the ache demands immediate attention.
Nil’s by my side, his hands careful as they skim my waist, holding me down while I writhe from Stan’s wandering lips.
When Nil’s fingers begin to ease my clothes aside, a sultry sound leaves me before I can stop it.
“Nil—”
He stops me, placing his lips on mine. “Moan my name again, Em,” he murmurs, strained like it costs him to speak. “But from now on, call me Lix.”
Stan’s kisses are incredibly distracting, but a question breaks through the haze, too curious not to be asked. “Is there…any particular reason?” I manage between heavy breaths.
“Because it’s the name I heard the most,” Nil answers, “from people I love.”
More heat rushes through me. My face burns, too fast, too much. It’s become difficult to breathe again while I’m overheating.
“I—” I try to say, but the word dies in my parched throat.
They both react with worry instantly.
“Em,” Stan says, all humor gone. His hands grip my shoulders. “Hey, gorgeous?”
Lix curses under his breath and steps away. “I’m getting water.”
He’s gone in a flash. Stan moves just as quickly as he reaches for a remote. The artificial fireplace clicks off. He cracks a window open, and cold winter air spills in, bracing and crisp.
“Breathe,” he murmurs, his lips landing gentle kisses on my hair. “C’mon, Em, breathe with me.”
The cool air helps. My head clears enough for embarrassment to arrive in its wake. “I’m sorry,” I say.
