Page 19 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Caleb

The week passed as a fever dream of tangled limbs, hungry mouths, and laughter. I’d spent my days working at the Bindery Hotel, solidifying their new marketing plan. But Julian and Nisha had consumed every free moment I had in Portland. I was starved for them, spending my nights in their bed, my mornings at their breakfast table, like I was bingeing on their attention, afraid of what would happen when I was without it once again.

Now, I was standing outside Zenith Yoga waiting for one last chance to spend time with them both. It had surprised me how well Nisha fit with the two of us, and I tried not to wonder if maybe, all those years ago, things would have worked out differently if we’d found a woman like her instead of a string of anonymous hookups.

This was just a fling, of course. I couldn’t have more with a married couple—and Julian and Nisha were deeply in love and deeply committed to one another. But I couldn't ignore the hollow ache in my chest at the thought of leaving. So I’d agreed to one more afternoon. Just one more afternoon to memorize the way Julian's eyes crinkled when he laughed, the soft sounds Nisha made when we touched her together, the unfamiliar weight of genuine connection I'd avoided for seven long years.

I checked my watch again. They were late, which wasn't like them. Each day this week had followed the same intoxicating pattern: work during the day, then straight to their townhouse or my hotel suite, where we'd lose ourselves in each other until dawn threatened to expose our secrets. Last night, Julian had whispered against my neck that we should meet at Zenith for one last adventure before my flight.

"Full circle,"

he'd murmured, and Nisha had smiled that knowing smile that made my cock twitch even now, just thinking about it.

The door to the studio opened, and Julian appeared alone, his glasses slightly askew in that way they always got when he was rushing.

"Where's Nisha?"

I asked, my stomach sinking with irrational disappointment. I’d hoped for a little sexy fun after the class.

"Last-minute client emergency,"

Julian said, reaching up to adjust his glasses.

"Some fabric shipment disaster. She said she'll meet us for lunch after class."

I swallowed my disappointment, focusing instead on Julian's presence—the subtle scent of his cologne, the way his joggers hugged his thighs, the curve of his lips that I now knew the taste of.

"She also said,"

Julian continued, dropping his voice.

"that we should use this time to reconnect. Just the two of us."

Heat crawled up my neck.

"Reconnect?"

Julian's lips quirked up.

"Her words, not mine. But I think we both know what she meant."

Before I could respond, Carly's voice called from inside.

"Five minutes to partner yoga, everyone! Find your mats and your sweethearts!"

Julian held the door open, his eyes glittering with mischief.

"Ready to get bendy with me, Bancroft?"

"Fuck off,"

I laughed, but followed him inside, hyper-aware of his body moving ahead of mine.

The studio looked different in daylight—sunlight streaming through the massive windows, catching on the copper bowls and crystals that lined the instructor's platform. Several couples had already claimed their spaces, laying out mats in pairs, whispering and laughing together.

"As you all know, this month’s theme is couples connection,"

Carly announced as Julian and I settled onto adjacent mats.

"Today's focus is building trust, intimacy, and playful connection through breathwork and gentle resistance."

Julian raised an eyebrow at me, and I had to stifle another laugh. After what we'd done together this week.

"gentle resistance"

seemed almost comically tame.

"We'll start in seated position, facing your partner,"

Carly instructed.

"Take each other's hands, connect through the eyes, and sync your breath.”

Julian turned to face me, cross-legged, his knees touching mine. When he extended his hands, I took them, feeling ridiculous and aroused in equal measure. His palms were warm, slightly rough, familiar now after a week of exploration. Our eyes locked, and something shifted in the air between us—the playfulness giving way to something heavier, more intense.

"Breathe in together,"

Carly guided, her voice fading into the background as Julian's thumbs traced small circles on the backs of my hands.

"And out. Finding your shared rhythm."

Julian's lips parted slightly as he exhaled, and I couldn't help but remember how those lips felt wrapped around my cock just last night, how his eyes had locked with mine as he swallowed every drop.

"Caleb,"

Julian whispered, his voice barely audible.

"your breathing's off."

I forced myself to focus, matching my inhales to his, but it was like trying to meditate during an earthquake. Every point of contact between us—our knees, our hands, even just the shared space of air—vibrated with potential energy.

"Now, partners, help each other into a gentle forward fold,"

Carly's voice broke through my haze.

"One partner extends forward while the other provides gentle pressure between the shoulder blades."

Julian extended forward, presenting his back to me. I placed my hands between his shoulder blades, feeling the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt. As I leaned forward to apply pressure, my chest nearly touched his back, and I caught the scent of his shampoo—something citrusy and clean.

"Remember to communicate,"

Carly called out.

"Tell your partner if you need more or less pressure."

"More,"

Julian murmured, and something in his tone made it clear he wasn't just talking about the stretch.

I pressed harder, my body inching closer to his, and he released a soft groan that only I could hear. Around us, other couples were engrossed in their own practices, oblivious to the current running between us, or perhaps focused on their own attractions.

"And switch,"

Carly instructed after thirty seconds that felt like an eternity.

We reversed positions, Julian's hands strong and confident on my back. He leaned in close, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered.

“I’ve been wanting to touch you all day."

My cock twitched, hardening against the mat.

"Julian," I warned.

"we're in public."

His chuckle was warm against my skin.

"That's half the fun."

As we moved through the poses, each one seemed designed to torture us. In warrior three, Julian stood behind me, one hand on my extended leg, the other on my hip, steadying me as I balanced. His fingers dug into my thigh, just a fraction too intimate for a public class, and I bit back a groan.

"Having trouble balancing?"

he teased, his hand sliding higher on my inner thigh than strictly necessary.

"Bloody menace,"

I muttered, causing him to snicker behind me.

For a partner twist, we sat back-to-back, the full length of our spines pressed together. As we rotated in opposite directions, I could feel every shift of his muscles, every breath he took. My mind flashed to how those muscles had looked above me last night, tensed and glistening with sweat as he'd rocked into Nisha while I'd watched, stroking myself and waiting for my turn.

"Jesus, Caleb,"

Julian whispered as we twisted, his voice strained.

"Your heart is pounding so hard I can only imagine what you're thinking."

"You started it,"

I shot back, grateful for the banter that kept me from sinking too deep into the memories—and the feelings I'd spent seven years running from.

The final pose was the most challenging—a partner boat pose, sitting face to face with our legs extended, feet pressed against each other's, hands clasped. The position forced us to look directly at each other while our bodies strained to maintain balance.

"Feel the connection,"

Carly encouraged, walking between the couples.

"This pose is all about mutual support, giving and receiving."

Julian's eyes locked with mine, dark with intent.

"Nisha said we have permission,"

he said so softly I almost missed it.

"to do anything we want today."

My breath caught.

"Anything?"

A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Anything. Her exact words were 'blow his mind before he leaves us.' She wanted to be sure you’re motivated to come back."

The other couples around us faded into the background. There was only Julian, his hands gripping mine, his feet pressed against mine, his eyes promising things that made my heart race and my cock throb.

“And do you want me to come back?”

"Hell yes. This week has been incredible. And Nisha agrees.”

My cheeks flushed as I realized how much I’d needed to hear those words. “It has.”

“So, what kind of motivation do you need, Caleb?"

he asked, that familiar challenge in his voice that had always pushed me to the edge.

"Class is almost over."

"If you’re going to motivate me, I need to get you somewhere private. Right fucking now."

Carly's voice broke through our bubble.

"And release. Beautiful work, everyone. Let's move into our final relaxation."

Julian and I lowered our legs, but neither of us closed our eyes for the meditation. Instead, we watched each other, the air between us charged with everything we weren't saying—everything I'd never said.

Seven years ago, I'd fled from these feelings, convinced they would destroy our friendship, destroy me. Now, with my flight looming tomorrow, I found myself desperate to stay, to speak the truth I'd buried deep inside me.

But not yet. Not when I still had a few precious hours to memorize the way Julian moved, the way he tasted, the way he said my name when he came apart in my hands.

The moment class ended, Julian grabbed my hand, tugging me past the main changing area toward one of the private unisex dressing rooms tucked into a corner down the hall. My heart hammered against my ribs, cock already painfully hard beneath my yoga pants.

Seven years of repressed desire had culminated in one week of exploration, but we still hadn't crossed this particular line—touching each other without Nisha as our buffer, our excuse, our permission slip to want each other. And fuck, I wanted him. Had always wanted him, even when I told myself I didn't.

Julian fumbled with the door handle, cursing under his breath until it finally swung open. We tumbled inside, and I kicked it shut behind us, making sure the lock was secure before turning back to him.

"Finally,"

Julian growled, pushing me against the door with surprising force.

His mouth crashed against mine, hungry and demanding, nothing like the tentative kiss we'd shared that first night with Nisha. This was raw need, seven years of missed opportunities compressed into desperate pressure. I met him with equal force, my hands finding his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp.

"Wanted this,"

he muttered against my lips.

"Fuck, I’ve wanted this since Nisha gave us permission."

I’ve wanted it longer.

My hands slid under his sweat-dampened shirt, tracing the planes of his chest, the ridges of his abdomen, committing every inch to memory. Tomorrow I'd be gone, back to my empty London flat, with nothing but these memories to sustain me.

"Off,"

I demanded, tugging at his shirt.

"I need to see you."

Julian pulled back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, revealing golden-brown skin still glistening from our workout. I followed suit, my own shirt joining his on the floor. When our bare chests pressed together, I groaned at the contact—the heat, the friction, the intimacy of skin against skin.

"Look at you,"

Julian breathed, eyes roaming over my torso.

"Still so fucking gorgeous."

I silenced him with another kiss, not trusting myself to respond to the admiration in his eyes. My fingers traced the waistband of his yoga pants, teasing, testing.

"Please,"

he whispered, and that single word unleashed something primal in me.

I spun us, pushing him against the door now, dropping to my knees on the tiled floor. His pants and boxer briefs came down in one swift motion, his cock springing free, thick and flushed and perfect. I looked up, meeting his eyes as I stroked him once, twice, watching his head fall back against the door.

"Caleb,"

he groaned. "Fuck—"

I wanted to taste him, to feel the weight of him on my tongue, to make him lose control completely. But I also needed more—needed to feel him against me, needed to recreate the friction of our bodies in that hotel bed when we'd both been too focused on Nisha to acknowledge what was happening between us.

Rising to my feet, I shoved my own pants down, cock springing free. Julian's eyes darkened at the sight, his hand reaching out to trace the length of me with feather-light touches that made my thighs tremble.

"No time,"

I muttered, crowding him against the door.

"Need to feel you."

Understanding flashed across his face. He spat into his palm, reaching between us to grasp both our cocks in his hand. The first stroke sent electricity arcing through me, my hips jerking forward, a desperate tension rising inside me. He was silky smooth, wet with his own pre-cum, and the sensation was everything I needed.

"Like this?"

he asked, his voice rough.

I nodded, unable to form words as he stroked us together, the friction delicious but not quite enough. I added my own hand, our fingers tangling, creating a tight channel to thrust into. We were both leaking enough to make it slick and wet, and it was so fucking good.

“I want to do this in Nisha’s pussy,”

I whispered, grinding against him, making him groan.

My free hand found his neck, pulling him in for a messy, open-mouthed kiss that stole what little breath I had left.

"Not going to last,"

Julian warned, his cock sliding against mine in a delicious way that made me shiver in his arms.

"Don't care," I gasped.

"Just don't stop."

Our bodies found a rhythm, hips rocking in counterpoint, hands working in tandem. Julian's free hand slid around to grip my ass, fingers digging into muscle hard enough to bruise. I welcomed the pain, the marking, something to carry with me when I left.

"I can’t believe we never tried this in college,"

Julian confessed, the words tumbling out between gasps.

"All those nights where neither of us got off."

"Wish we had lube,"

I groaned, nipping at his lower lip.

"Wish I could fuck you."

Julian's rhythm faltered, his pupils blown so wide his eyes looked black.

"Christ, Caleb."

"Next time,"

I promised recklessly.

"When I come back."

“Three weeks?”

“Yeah. If Nisha will let me, in three weeks, I’m going to bury myself inside you.”

“Oh, she’ll more than let you. She’ll get out her vibrator and watch.”

The idea that there would be a next time, that this wasn't just a farewell fuck, pushed me closer to the edge. Julian's hand moved faster, his thumb swiping across both our heads, gathering the slickness there to ease the friction.

"Look at me,"

he demanded.

"Want to see your face when you come?"

I met his gaze, unfiltered vulnerability passing between us for the first time. His eyes held mine as his hand twisted on the upstroke, and that was all it took—pleasure crested, white-hot and overwhelming. I came with a muffled shout, spilling over our joined hands, onto his cock, his stomach. The warm wetness between us pushed Julian over the edge seconds later, his cum mixing with mine as he buried his face against my neck to muffle his groan.

For several long moments, we stood there, breathing hard, bodies still pressed together, unwilling to break the connection. Reality hovered just beyond the locked door—my flight tomorrow, the complicated tangle of feelings I still couldn't articulate, the fact that Nisha was waiting for us.

"Fuck,"

Julian finally sighed, pressing his forehead against mine.

"That was..."

"Yeah,"

I agreed, throat tight with everything I couldn't say.

We separated reluctantly, using hand towels from the rack to clean ourselves. The silence between us was comfortable but charged with unspoken words. As we dressed, stealing glances at each other, I wondered if he could read the truth in my eyes—that leaving him the first time had nearly broken me, and leaving again might finish the job.

"So,"

Julian said, adjusting his glasses as I zipped up my bag.

"This week has been... educational.”

I laughed despite myself.

"Educational? That's what we're calling it?"

His lips quirked up.

"Fine. Life-changing, then."

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair.

"I think I might be bisexual. Or something.”

The casual way he said it, like he was commenting on the weather, made something warm unfurl in my chest.

"You think?"

"Shut up,"

he snorted, shoving my shoulder.

"This is new territory for me."

I shook my head, smiling despite the ache in my chest.

"I always was. Bisexual, I mean."

Julian's eyebrows shot up.

"Always? Even in college?"

The question dangled dangerously close to the truth I'd kept buried—the real reason I'd severed our friendship, run across an ocean to escape feelings I wasn't ready to face.

"Yeah,"

I said carefully.

"Even then."

“You’re really a top? With the way you keep asking me to throat fuck you…"

“I have a bit of an oral fixation. With women, too. But with men, I don’t know. I’ve bottomed, and it’s fine, but I don’t get off on it the way some guys do. Somehow, I think you’ll be one of those guys.”

He studied me for a moment, and I could see more questions forming behind his eyes—why hadn't I said anything? Had there been men in our college days that he didn't know about? Why had I really disappeared from his life? But instead of asking, he just nodded, accepting the crumb of truth I'd offered.

"Oral fixation. I suppose that explains why you’re so damn good at sucking cock,”

he murmured.

“And eating pussy.”

I burst out laughing.

“At least I know you’ll both miss my mouth.”

He leaned in for a hard kiss.

“We’ll miss all of you, Caleb. But we should get going. Nisha's walking over here now so we can grab some lunch next door."

We exited the studio, blinking in the bright midday sun. Nisha stood across the street, waiting at an intersection for the light to turn. When she spotted us, her face lit up with a knowing smile that made heat crawl up my neck.

"Well, well,"

she called as we approached, eyes dancing with mischief.

"You two look thoroughly debauched."

Julian laughed, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

She rolled her eyes, reaching up to smooth his still-disheveled hair.

"Please. You both have that glazed, just-got-each-other-off look. And Caleb’s shirt is on inside out."

“Fuck,”

I groaned, looking down at my t-shirt.

Her gaze shifted to me, warm and approving.

"Good session?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her directness, at the easy way she accepted what had happened between her husband and me.

"Very... enlightening."

"I bet,"

she beamed up at me, hooking her arms through both of ours and kissing my cheek.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving, it feels too soon. But I suppose it’ll always feel too soon, won’t it? When we want you around so much.”

I couldn’t have said it better.