I don’t move, my fingers curled around his wrist, my breath lodged in my throat. He’s right. I want to be owned, dominated, and pleasured by a man I trust. And I trust him when it comes to sex. Both of them. They know my limits, and they have the desire, experience, and skill to effectively master my body. It’s one of the reasons sex with them is so damn good.
“Your face is flushed.” Trace flexes his fingers against my neck and glances down. “Your nipples are swollen, and your heart is racing.”
My gaze flies to Cole, and he stares back at me, his eyes pupil-black and half-mast.
“I’m making a point.” Trace uses his grip to turn my head toward him. “Tell me what it is.”
“If I stay…” My throat bobs against his hand. “All decisions regarding sex are between you and Cole.”
“Tell me why.”
“I prefer it that way.” I wet my lips and whimper. “And it takes the pressure off me.”
“Good girl.” Trace releases my neck and touches his lips to my brow.
I melt beneath the warmth of his mouth and slide down on the mattress until I’m flat on my back.
Cole focuses on my hand where it rests between us. When I lift it toward him, he grips it, knotting our fingers together. Then he lowers his head to the pillow and stretches out on his side, facing me.
Trace turns off the light, blanketing the room in darkness. The bedding rustles as he slides a blanket over us.
While still holding onto Cole’s hand, I reach my other toward Trace. His fingers find mine beneath the sheets and clutch tightly.
No one speaks. Not for the long minutes that follow.
I waver so uncontrollably between I shouldn’t be here and this is exactly where I’m supposed to be, between resisting and surrendering, fleeing and fighting, that I doubt every thought in my head.
That’s when it hits me. I’m not leaving. Because if I did, it would only prolong the inevitable. Since they know I won’t be happy without them, they’ll track me down and haul me back.
Why would they go through so much trouble? I’m just a woman. An average, pain-in-the-ass woman with a lot of flaws.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice drops to a whisper. “I’m not worth it.”
“Since the moment I saw you…” Trace squeezes my fingers. “I haven’t gone a day without thinking about you. No matter how much it hurts or how long it takes, I know that a lifetime with you is worth fighting for.”
“I couldn’t have said it better than that.” Cole grunts a soft chuckle. “Fucking asshole.”
I pull my arms to my chest, bringing their hands close and holding them there, against my heart. “What are we going to do for six months?”
“I’ll show you tomorrow.” Cole shifts closer and brushes a kiss against my shoulder. “Tell me you’re staying.”
“I’m staying.” I let out a contented sigh.
I missed this. God, I missed them so much.
They’re giving me a six-month reprieve from making a decision. That seems like an eternity to make them wait, but we tried it my way, and I messed everything up.
Things will be different this time.
While they’re making the rules and controlling the arrangement, I’m going to fight.
Fight my doubts.
Fight my fears.
Fight my indecision.
I’ll fight through the agony and do the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.
I’ll choose which part of my heart I have to let go forever.
I wake to a quiet room and sunshine warming my face. With a full body stretch, I rouse a little more, blinking, yawning, and alone.
The mattress on either side of me is cool to the touch. When I strain my ears, I’m met with silence. Where are they?
I sit up and spot my phone on Trace’s pillow, next to a note scrawled in his elegant penmanship.
Passcode for all doors is the year your car was made.
Call your parents.
I grin at his bossiness and head to the bathroom, where I freshen up and brush my teeth. Then I grab the phone and leave the bedroom in search of coffee.
Down the hallway and through the living room, I pause at the kitchen island. The house is empty and still. Unless Cole and Trace are in one of the locked rooms, they must be outside.
I find a pot of coffee waiting, prepare a cup, and step toward the windowed wall in the living room.
The stone terrace cascades toward the bridge and dock, the majestic scenery glowing in the early morning sun. In the distance, a few boats drift on the calm lake. Closer in, a heron soars over the water.
Something moves beneath the canopy of the dock. Shifting to the window closest to the bridge, I spot Cole and Trace walking around the ski boat. They’re too far away to make out expressions, but it’s easy to differentiate between Cole’s broad build and Trace’s height.