Page 8 of Better When Shared (Kristin Lance Anthologies #2)

Lila

My body hummed with a delicious soreness that radiated from between my thighs, up through my core, to settle in the muscles of my shoulders and neck. Four days of being thoroughly fucked by two insatiable men had left me with a private, aching reminder of every position, every orgasm, every moment I'd spent sandwiched between their hard bodies.

"Going for a walk!"

I called out, though the wind probably carried my voice away before it reached them.

It didn't matter. Connor turned anyway, his gold in his hazel eyes seeming to sparkle as they met mine across the distance. He raised his hand in acknowledgment, then nudged Nick, who glanced up from baiting his hook. Nick's smile hit me like a physical touch—warm and knowing, a silent reminder of how he'd looked staring up at me from between my legs just hours ago. My pussy clenched at the memory, a reflexive response I couldn't control anymore than I could control the tide.

They looked so fucking good together on that pier. Connor with his broad shoulders and easy stance, sleeves rolled up to expose forearms corded with lean muscle. And Nick, taller, with that mess of black hair whipping in the breeze, the sleeve of tattoos visible even from here when he cast his line with practiced grace.

Connor said something that made Nick throw his head back and laugh. The sound didn't reach me, but I could imagine it—that deep, rich chuckle that seemed to vibrate against my skin whenever I heard it. They bumped shoulders, comfortable in a way that made my chest ache with something far more dangerous than lust.

My two men.

The thought slipped in before I could catch it, and I tensed. Not mine. Not men, plural. Just Connor—my husband, my partner, the only man I was supposed to claim beyond this week. Nick was... what? A vacation fling? A shared experience? The ter.

"third"

felt too clinical for what had happened between us, bu.

"lover"

carried weight I wasn't supposed to acknowledge.

Vacation rules, I reminded myself. No jealousy. No limits. And most importantly, no commitments after this week. When we packed up the beach cabin on Sunday, Connor and I would return to Portland, Nick to Seattle, and this thing between us would evaporate like sea spray in the sun.

At least, that was the plan we'd all agreed to.

I turned away from them, unable to watch their easy camaraderie any longer without feeling that dangerous pull. The sand was cool beneath my bare feet as I followed the curve of the shoreline. The beach stretched empty in both directions—a benefit of vacationing in Newport during the off-season. I let my toes sink into the damp sand at the water's edge, the cold shock of it grounding me in my body.

My body that still bore their marks. The faint bruise on my inner thigh where Connor had gripped me too hard. The tender spot on my neck where Nick had sucked and bitten while I came around his cock. The pleasant burn in my ass from being filled there for the first time in my life, both men talking me through it with such tender patience.

Fuck. I needed perspective.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my cardigan and scrolled to my best friend Nisha's number. My finger hovered over it for a moment before I pressed call. If anyone could help me sort through this mess, it was my best friend. She'd seen me through every relationship crisis since freshman year of college.

"Well, if it isn't the woman on vacation,"

Nisha's voice came through after the third ring, warm and teasing.

"I was beginning to think you'd drowned in the Pacific or been kidnapped by sexy fishermen."

I laughed, tension easing from my shoulders at the familiar cadence of her voice.

"The sexy fishermen are purely recreational, I assure you."

"Are Connor and his friend out there pretending to fish instead of keeping you company? Shocking priorities,"

Nisha said.

"Though I suppose you might need the break after—what did your text say? 'The best fucking of my life, times two'?"

Heat flooded my cheeks.

"I was drunk when I sent that."

"Drunk and well-fucked, apparently,"

Nisha's laugh was musical.

"God, I'm jealous. Julian's been lost in his work, and I'm starting to think my vibrator deserves billing as my primary partner."

"Trust me, the reality is more complicated than my drunk text made it sound,"

I said, kicking at a shell half-buried in the sand.

"Complicated how? Is Connor's friend not living up to expectations? Did his cock curve the wrong way? Because that's a legitimate concern."

"Nick's cock is perfect,"

I interrupted, then immediately regretted it when Nisha cackled.

"Oh my god, listen to you! 'Nick's cock is perfect,'"

she mimicked.

"Tell me everything immediately. How big? Cut or uncut? Does he know how to use it?"

I sighed, but couldn't help smiling. This was why I loved Nisha—no judgment, just genuine enthusiasm for my pleasure.

"Bigger than Connor but not scary big. Cut. And yes, very much yes on knowing how to use it. He's... attentive."

"Attentive,"

Nisha repeated.

"How did this even happen? I know you mentioned Connor's college friend was joining, but you didn't say anything about him joining you in bed."

I found a large piece of driftwood and sat, tucking my feet underneath me.

"It wasn't planned. Or maybe it was, subconsciously? We've been friends with Nick for years, and there's always been this... undercurrent. But nothing ever happened until this trip."

"And now?"

"Now we've basically been having non-stop sex since we convinced him to join us."

I trailed off, the memory of being filled by both men simultaneously making my breath catch.

"Holy fuck,"

Nisha breathed.

"And how is it? Be honest."

"Intense. Overwhelming. So fucking good I thought I might pass out," I said.

"That sounds... incredibly intimate,"

she said, her tone shifting from playful to thoughtful.

"It was. It is. That's the problem."

"Ah,"

Nisha said, understanding immediately.

"You're catching feelings."

It wasn't a question. I picked at a loose thread on my cardigan, watching it unravel slightly.

"We made rules. Vacation rules. No jealousy, no limits, but also, it ends when we leave. It was supposed to be just a fun way to explore, to push our boundaries... He lives in Seattle, not Portland, so that part was supposed to be easy."

"But now you're wondering if it could be more,"

Nisha finished for me.

"I don't know what I'm wondering,"

I admitted.

"I'm married to Connor. I love him. But with Nick... it's not just sex. The three of us together—it feels right in a way I wasn't prepared for."

"So you've stumbled into a potential poly triad situation,"

Nisha said matter-of-factly.

"It happens."

"Does it? Because I've never heard of it happening to anyone I know."

"You might be surprised," she said.

"It's more common than you think, especially when there's genuine connection and trust involved."

I pulled my knees to my chest, feeling suddenly vulnerable despite the warmth of the sun on my skin.

"I don't even know if that's what I want. Or what Connor wants. Or what Nick wants. We haven't talked about it—we're all just pretending this is still under the umbrella of 'vacation fun.'"

"Then maybe you should talk about it,"

Nisha suggested.

"Before Sunday comes and you're all forced to make decisions based on rules you set before you knew what this could become."

"But what if neither of them wants more? What if Connor thinks I'm betraying our marriage by even suggesting it? What if Nick just sees this as a fun fuck with friends and nothing else?"

The questions spilled out, each one loaded with fear I hadn't allowed myself to acknowledge until now.

"Feelings are complex, Lila,"

Nisha said gently.

"They don't always follow the rules we set, no matter how good our intentions. Rules are just structures we create to make ourselves feel safe, but they don't change what's happening beneath the surface."

I thought about that.

"Speaking from experience?"

"You know I am,"

she sighed.

"Remember when Julian asked me for that 'hall pass'? We had very clear rules. One night, predefined person, full disclosure afterward, no repeats."

"Did you finally take him up on it?"

"It's so messed up, Lil. It was that guy from my yoga class? I thought he was new in town, and the perfect anonymous stranger. Turns out he was Julian’s best friend when they were kids."

"Oh shit."

"Yeah, well. I feel so guilty. And Julian hasn’t even had his hookup yet. He doesn't even seem interested."

"Really?"

"I don't know what's going on, Lila,"

she said with a sigh.

"But enough about me, what are you going to do?"

I looked back toward the pier, where the two men had given up on fishing and appeared to be talking, heads bent close together.

"I don't know. Connor seems completely at ease with everything. And Nick... he's hard to read sometimes. But they've gotten closer this week, not just through me. They spend all of their time together, even when I go out for a walk or whatever."

"Including sexually?"

Nisha asked bluntly.

The question caught me off guard, but the truth hit me the instant I thought about it.

"No. But I think they might want to."

"Jesus,"

Nisha breathed.

"And how does that make you feel? Jealous? Excited? Left out?"

"Turned on beyond belief,"

I admitted.

“If… Do you think it’s possible that we could all have this connection?”

“It’s rare, but not impossible. And you need to talk to them before this vacation ends."

She was right, and I knew it. The weight of Sunday loomed over me like an approaching storm. Three more days, and then what? Back to normal life? After this, I wasn't sure what normal looked like anymore.

I ended the call and pocketed my phone, watching the waves crash against the shore for a few minutes as I let our conversation settle in my mind. In the distance, Connor and Nick had abandoned their fishing poles and were making their way back along the pier, Connor gesturing animatedly while Nick nodded, his posture relaxed and attentive.

My two men.

The thought came again, but this time I didn't push it away. Instead, I let it sit there, testing how it felt to acknowledge the truth of it, if only to myself. Three more days until reality intruded. Three more days to figure out what I wanted—what we all wanted—beyond the artificial construct of vacation rules.