Trinity(67)

“Nah, I’m good. I know you have more exciting places to be.” I bump her shoulder with mine.

She stifles an embarrassed smile. Sam has a boyfriend. First one in ages. Big, husky, state trooper. Mega manly and hot. And younger. She’s a total cougar.

“No place is more exciting than here with you and my niece.”

“Yeah, right!” I scoff. “I have eyes. I have seen Barron. And the way you two look at each other. Fire alarms go off.”

“Sort of like the same way you and Dev look at each other?”

I pause all movement, wishing she didn’t go there.

“Dev and I have a history. But we’re friends now,” I inform her sullenly. “Besides, he has a girlfriend.” Some wench named Eileen. Total biker bunny trash not even worth the dirt on his tires.

“Honey, he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He has a girl to keep his bed warm. That man is waiting for you.”

“No, he’s not,” I disagree, my heart squeezing.

“Yes, he is. You can lie to yourself all you want. He’s wanted you from the very beginning. Only you, despite what transpired with Reese.”

“He hurt me.” It’s a lame excuse.

“You know what I think? He was hurting. I told you what the three of you were involved in was risky. I wish I was wrong. I cared about Reese, too, but don’t deny yourself love just because of what happened in the past. Look at what’s happening in the present.”

I hate that she’s right. Dev devotes all his free time to Cici and me. He’d rather be with us than anyone else. And as much as I try to ignore it, to tell myself the friend zone is enough, we both know it’s not. Because when we’re alone, the electricity is there. It never disappeared, even when Reese was alive. I always said I would love them both for the rest of my life, and it wasn’t a lie. I just don’t know how to cross back over that threshold. I have Cici to think about now, and how much she loves the man who bathes her and plays with her and spoils her rotten. Who reads Winnie the Pooh to her whenever she asks, which is all the damn time. I would never want to jeopardize what they have. But I don’t want to miss my window of opportunity, either. And it’s closing fast. I see it every day. He moves a little farther away from me and closer to the woman who warms his bed.

Love two men. Marry one, but spend your life with the other. How twisted can one relationship possibly be? Ours turned into a labyrinth of emotion I’m still trying to navigate.

“Think about what I said, okay?” Sam gives me a squeeze before she stands up. “I’m going to get laid.”

“Ewww,” I joke, envious as hell. “At least someone is.”

“I don’t have to be the only one,” she croons, turning her eyes skywards.

I sit on my knees and watch her leave, tumultuously conflicted.

Surprisingly, I put Cici’s bike put together in record time. Why was this so difficult for Dev? I just followed the diagrams. Men.

With the extra time, I sit on the stairs and listen to him put Cici to bed. He reads two books and even sings as she flip flops to sleep. Bedtime is the worst. She has so much energy, it takes her forever to wind down. I feel his pain, but he seems a glutton for punishment because he’s the one who puts her down every time he’s here.

I stare out the dark, front windows. It’s barely eight o’clock, but it feels like midnight. Our modest home is in a newer development, but still country enough—no streetlights or sidewalks, the closest neighbor a quarter of an acre away.

I hear Cici’s door close, and Dev’s light footsteps descend the stairs.

“Finally asleep.” He sighs as he slips by me.

“Tenacious, that one,” I comment.

“Just like her mother.” Dev swipes his leather jacket from the banister.

I idly wonder if that response is a criticism or a compliment.

“Big plans tonight?” I pry as he slides on his jacket. He looks hotter than hell in worn jeans, black long-sleeve shirt, and shit kickers.

“Um . . .” He fixes his collar. “I’m going out. Yeah,” he relays vaguely.

I rock back and forth, still seated on the stairs. “That’s good.”

Dev, sensing my unrest, stands directly in front of me, placing his hands on his hips. God, when I really look at him, like really stare, I see every part of him that I love. His strong stance, ruggedly beautiful face, and unwavering confidence that crosses over into arrogance every now and again.

“Kayla, is everything okay? Is there something you want to talk about?”

I peer up at him and his inquisitive—more like anatomizing—expression.

“No.” I fucking chicken out.

“You sure?” he probes.

“Yes.” I’m so antsy I can’t stop wringing my hands together. Just tell him! Say something!

“Okay.” He steps back, suspiciously. “You know I’m here—” He’s interrupted by the beeping of his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket and reads the message. He types a quick reply, then shoves it away. “Eileen. She’s waiting for me,” he says, suddenly in a hurry.

Just the mere mention of that skank’s name, and my jealousy erupts like a geyser.

“Dev!” I snatch his hand abruptly as he turns to leave. The tension in our touch is palpable. He slowly faces me with a disconcerting air. I ignore the pounding in my chest, as we stare silently, the house shaking with emotional turbulence.

I refuse to let go as I search frantically for something to say. Anything. I just want him to . . .

“Stay . . .” I plead, sincerely.

Dev’s features contort, no longer stiff with confusion, but softening now with what? Alleviation? Abatement? Want? Desire? Was I wrong to open this door? The look in his penetrating blue eyes is suppressive. He’s deliberating. His breathing becoming heavier as we float silently through the unknown. But we do know. We’ve always known. We know each other. We just have to work our way back again. To that scary, exhilarating, thrilling place where we were once madly in love. His eyes drop to my lips for a quarter of a second before he pounces on me, pinning my body to the stairs. Our lips linger a fraction of a millimeter apart, his pelvis smashed against mine. We’re so close. A familiar warmth spreads through my body, vividly reminding me of the way he feels and the way he tastes. I’m stiff beneath him, awaiting his next move.

“If I stay, I’m never leaving.” He dangles the ultimatum between our hungry mouths. “I’m not just going to get you off, then walk away.”

I splinter in a thousand different directions. This is our one moment of truth, and if I refuse, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, I’ll not only have lost Reese, but Dev, too.

“I never want you to leave again.” I swallow my pride, my fear, my guilt, and all my reservations. This is my last shot, and I’m taking it.

I close the illusory space between us because even though we’ve been separated, we’ve never really been apart.

We connect in a kiss so deep, so hot, so impassioned, our jaws stretch, and our tongues twirl in rapturous revolutions. I latch onto the lapel of his leather jacket, imprisoning him against me.

I need this man like I need air—I need him physically, I need him spiritually, and I need him emotionally. Sam was right. I do need taking care of, as much as I hate to admit it, and Dev will do that. He always has.

We grind against each other as the heat between us rises, the ache I’ve suppressed for three years charging to the surface.

I rip Dev’s jacket off as his urgent hands pull at my leggings.

We tear at each other’s clothes right in the middle of the foyer, heady breaths mingling as we fight to stay connected. It all happens so fast and furiously, my hand jerking Dev’s cock as he fingers me forcefully.

“I fucking need you. I need you right now.” I don’t even try to play coy. My desire is apparent and pulsating through every limb.

Dev moans as our mouths mash together, his pulsing cock stabbing into me, stretching me, filling me with one solid blow.

“Fuck!” I see stars as my pussy latches onto his thick hard length. It’s been so long. So fucking long, and I’m so fucking wet and desperate and needy.

“God, Kayla.” He circles his hips, blatantly feeling my expansive want.

“Please, don’t stop.” I close my eyes and absorb every single spine-tingling thrust.

“Never.” Dev drives deeper, his cock thickening with each passing second he’s inside me. “I’m never going to stop. I missed you . . . I love you . . .” he murmurs over and over. “You’ve always been the one . . .” His sentences are broken with each physical exertion, but they affect me nonetheless. They’re everything I’ve been dying to hear. A clash of sensation erupts as a blunt, primal, barbaric claiming takes place. Dev pounding into me, suffocating my screams with his mouth.

It’s sweet fucking affliction as my body succumbs, tightening, tensing. My muscles nearly ripping as I close in on the brink. My core catching fire seconds before the shock of the release.

“Dev, Dev.” His name becomes a tortured whisper with every hammering thrust.

“I’m right here.” He locks me in his arms as my nervous system comes to a screeching halt, my pussy clenching painfully as one raging gush alleviates three years of pent-up hostility. The sound that escapes my mouth is shrill, and for a few elongated, euphoric seconds, I’m a paralyzed vessel of erogenous pleasure.