Page 43

I’m conscious of each infinitesimal movement. The sweet, viselike grip of Trent’s body. Sara’s sharp intake of breath. The beautiful bow of her spine curving over his chest. The sighs and the moans, the faint sheen of sweat on our skin.

I’ve done this before, but never like this. Never with so much connection. Not once in my life has this meant what it means in this moment.

“That’s it,” Trent pants. “Keep going. ”

He’s talking to me, I can tell from the way he looks into my eyes, but Sara smiles, too, pinned under my body and still moving with us. She’s so fucking perfect stretched out in surrender.

“Oh, God.” Sara whimpers. “I think I might come.”

“Hold out,” he urges. “Let’s all come together.” He lightens his touch on her clit, but I feel him still moving his fingers.

Gripping his thighs, I start to thrust faster.

Watching his face, I wait for the moment it happens.

For the point where we both tumble over the edge.

I’m damn good at timing my orgasms, but this goes beyond my professional skills.

I’m lost in his body, in her body, in our bodies.

There’s a point where I’m not even sure where they start and I end.

“Oh, fuck.” I’m losing control, giving in to the urge to move faster. I try to hold back, but I can’t. “I’m gonna lose it.”

“Do it,” Trent urges. “I’m right there with you.”

Looking deep in his eyes, I let out a roar that’s primal and raw. My body uncoils as I set off a pleasure-fueled chain reaction.

Sara gasps seconds behind me, her lithe body bowing between us. She’s writhing and moaning and grinding down onto him. That sets him off, and Trent comes unraveled. I watch his eyes widen, feel him squeezing me tighter. He’s milking my cock, staring into my soul as I let go inside him.

Nobody times it, but I’m certain we set a world record for orgasm length.

Sara screams herself hoarse, claiming a two-for-one climax.

I gentle my movements, plotting a dismount that won’t be ungraceful.

This is one thing I don’t love about threesomes.

It’s tough to keep things sexy and perfectly choreographed.

But Sara just laughs and tucks up her legs, rolling off for a dismount befitting an Olympic gymnast. “Oh my God.” She giggles and brushes the hair from her face. “That was insane.”

“So good.” Trent closes his eyes with a groan. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

Worry shoots through me. Was that regret in his voice ?

Then he opens his eyes and the only emotion I see there is love. Love and desire, my favorite combination.

Kissing him softly, Sara giggles again. “I’ll be back.”

She scurries to the bathroom and I don’t try to stop her. I know I’m the professional here, but for the first time ever, there’s something more pressing to me than tending to my female partner. Plus, I’m guessing she’d like a few moments alone.

And I’ll savor these seconds with Trent. Coasting a hand down his chest, I kiss the edge of his forehead. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“That was pretty intense.”

“No joke.” He studies my hand where it rests on his pecs, then lifts his gaze to my face. “Thanks for not giving up on me.”

“Thanks for trusting me.” I mean that in so many ways. “I know you had the longest road to get here. Thanks for doing the work.”

Sara comes back with warm washcloths for everyone. There’s a fresh wave of awkward familiarity that comes from dealing with the sloppier aspects of sex. There’s laughter and blushing and a few filthy jokes swapped between Frogman and me.

It’s intimacy at its unrefined best.

By the time we’re all cleaned up and wrapped in the plush, Crystal Bliss robes, we’re comfy and punch-drunk on hormones.

Then Trent clears his throat and glances between us. “I, um, have something for you guys.” He slides off the bed as Sara and I watch. “Be right back.”

He heads to the spot where he kicked off his shorts, fishing his hand in a cargo pocket. I can’t see what he’s doing, but when he turns back to face us, he’s holding a box in each hand.

“What’s that?” Sara sits up as he places one box on the nightstand.

But it’s the one he’s still holding that he wants her to see. “This one’s for you.” Hinging open the top, he shows her a trio of rings. I crane my neck to see them, not entirely sure what this means.

Trent plucks out the top one. “You recognize this one, obviously.”

“My engagement ring.” She watches in silence as he slides it on her finger, her gentle brown eyes lifting to his. “I left it with my mother,” she murmurs. “How did you get it?”

“I asked for it back.” He smiles into her eyes, twisting the ring so the diamond is centered. “I told her I needed to propose again. To make sure you knew that I never stopped loving you. I promised your parents I won’t let you down this time.”

Tears fill her eyes as she tilts up her hand, making the center stone flash. “I almost forgot how pretty it is. Thank you for bringing it back.” Lifting her eyes back to his, she smiles. “Thank you for bringing you back to me.”

“I couldn’t have stayed away if I’d tried.” His fingertip grazes the ring in the center of the box. “And I still plan to put this one on your finger.”

“My wedding band.” Sara bites her lip. “What does that mean?”

I hold my breath, waiting. I’m silently pleading with Trent not to fuck this up. Even as an outsider, I recognize the fragility of this moment. Whatever he says next could hurt her or heal her.

“I want to marry you, Sara.” He touches the ring again, watching her blink back the tears.

“I never stopped picturing us together. Imagining us having kids and growing old together. No matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise, there’s no version of our future that doesn’t have us together. ”

“I want that, too.” She hesitates. “You’re sure this time?”

“Yes.” Thank God there’s no hesitation from Trent. “But I see things differently now. Something bigger for us.” His gaze shifts to mine and he smiles. “A future for three, not just two.”

“Or five or six or even seven,” I suggest. When they both look alarmed, I chuckle. “Kids. I meant kids, not some gigantic poly knot.”

“Thank you for clarifying.” Sara looks at the ring in the box again. When her eyes shift to Trent’s, she still looks uncertain. “How do I know you won’t run again?”

It’s a straightforward question. A question the woman I met at the start of this journey might never have asked.

But this Sara has guts, and Trent looks relieved at the chance to answer her honestly.

“Given how I’ve behaved these last several weeks, I don’t blame you for feeling unsure,” he says.

“I got scared that I wasn’t enough for you.

That the future we’d dreamed of was so set in stone, there was no way it could ever contain two sets of desires that seemed like opposite things.

But there’s a word in that sentence I’ve started to recognize as poison. ”

Sara blinks. “Which word?”

“ Seemed .”

“That’s poison?” She’s shifted from looking unsure to curious. “How is seemed a bad word?”

“Not bad, exactly.” He chuckles and touches the ring again.

“That’s part of my problem, I think. Seeing everything as either good or bad, black or white, sinful or holy.

That’s no way to live, and neither is thinking I know how you feel.

That’s what I meant about seemed being poison—it’s a sign I’m assuming instead of just asking .

I promise you, Sara—I’ll never assume things again.

I’ll ask questions, get curious, give us all space to grow.

” He looks over at me with deep-rooted connection. “That goes for all of us.”

“That sounds amazing.” She doesn’t look tense anymore. Trent’s words have calmed her, and I let out a breath of relief.

I’m watching her face as her eyes fall to that third ring. I can tell from her expression she’s never seen it before.

Now it’s Trent who looks nervous. He glances at me and I give him a nod of encouragement. Drawing a breath, he takes the third ring from the box .

“This is part of that promise,” he says as he holds out the ring. “I give you my word that I’ll work on our bond every day. That I’ll communicate with both of you, always. That I’ll never stop marveling at how fucking amazing we all are together. That’s what this ring symbolizes.”

It’s my turn to get curious. I lean closer to peer at the stones. “Whoa, that’s nice.”

“Our birthstones,” he says, and I stare at him.

“Whose birthstones?”

“You’re July, so your birthday’s a ruby.” He points to the red stone on the left side of the band. “Also the official color of the US Marines—scarlet and gold, right?”

“My God.” Taking the ring from his hand, Sara studies the gleaming blue stone on the other side. “The sapphire is March, so that’s you.”

“And also, one of the official colors of the United States Navy.” Trent takes the ring and slides it onto her finger. The two colored stones nestle on each side of her engagement diamond.

The fit couldn’t be more perfect.

“It’s amazing,” she whispers.

Trent grins. “I think so, too.”

She’s blinking back tears as she flashes the ring. “I love how they all fit together.”

His eyes shift to mine and he nods. “So do I.”

Turning his head, he grabs the second box off the nightstand. “I have something for you, too.”

“For me?” I’m glancing around, and it doesn’t take long to feel like a dumbass. “I mean, as opposed to the other six consorts hiding behind the furniture?”

He laughs and snaps open the ring box. Inside is a thick, rugged band of etched metal. It’s brilliant without being flashy. No stones or sparkles, but a bright, steady gleam that looks masculine without being dull. “It’s hammered titanium,” he explains. “Belonged to my grandpa, my mother’s dad. ”

“You’re kidding.” For once in my life, I’m speechless. I’ve never been given a ring before. “This is an heirloom?”

“I want you to have it.” His throat bobs as he swallows. “I want you to be a part of my family. For us to be part of yours.” He glances at Sara and she nods as a tear trails down her cheek. “When I picture my future, it’s with all three of us in it.”

Holy shit. “It’s amazing.” I almost feel bad I didn’t get him a ring. “You’re sure about this? It belongs to your family.”

“You are my family.” Taking it out of the box, he slides the ring onto my finger. As it slips into place, his golden eyes widen. “It fits.”

“You’re surprised?”

“Guess I shouldn’t be, huh?” He chuckles. “There’s something about all three of us that just seems to fit.”

“I love it.” Sara leans in to admire the band on my finger. “Looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” I rotate my hand, admiring the thick, chunky band. “Do you already have Trent’s wedding band picked?”

“We did.” Sara glances at him. “But nothing’s carved in stone. If you’d like to trade it in for something different, I’m not attached to our original vision.”

“Neither am I.” Trent smiles as his gaze shifts to mine. “We’ll talk about it later, ‘k?”

“Later,” I agree, still kind of in awe that he’s thinking like this. That he’s taken these steps to claim not just Sara, but me. Swallowing hard, I struggle to keep my voice steady. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I don’t want you ever to feel like a third wheel,” he tells me. “Just because Sara and I met first doesn’t make you any less a part of this.”

My throat starts to tingle and I might fucking cry if someone doesn’t make a dick joke soon. “Thanks, man. I love it.”

“And I love you.” He pulls us both close, his right hand on Sara, his left one curving over my shoulder. “Both of you. ”

“I love you, too.” I kiss Trent first. It’s tender and cool and feels like the start of something brand new.

“Sara.” I kiss her next, tasting passion fruit seltzer and sweetness. Her tongue brushes mine and our kiss goes on much longer than I meant it to.

By the time we draw back, my dick’s getting hard again.

I’m game for round two, but I can’t leave Trent as the only one not getting a gift here.

I hop off the bed and head for the kitchen where I stashed something special this morning.

I had hopes we’d all end up back here, so I planned ahead for this moment.

Well, not this moment exactly.

My gift pales in comparison to a ring. I still can’t get over how perfect that is. “I have something for you guys, too.” I pull out the little brown baggie from a cupboard and return to the bed where they’re waiting.

“What is it?” Sara watches me open the bag. “Treats?”

“Yep.” I pull out the first one, a plump, squishy S that I hand her. “Homemade marshmallows,” I explain. “The café chef makes them from scratch. I think they’re meant for hot cocoa.”

Trent watches her gasp with delight. “Who drinks cocoa in the tropics?”

“Beats me.” I fish into the bag and pull out the T . “Here’s yours, though.”

“I get a marshmallow?” For a badass SEAL, he looks pretty thrilled about that. “Thanks, dude.”

“No sweat.” I pull out my L , setting the bag on the nightstand. “Shall we toast?”

Sara tilts her head. “With marshmallows?”

“Why the hell not?” I hold up my own squishy letter. Trent does the same, touching the arm of his T to the base of my L . Sara joins in, her sweet, curvy S the perfect companion to our stiff-armed letters.

“To us,” I announce.

“To us.” Grinning, he bites off the tip of his T . “Tasty. ”

I take a bite of my L . “It’s good.”

Trent looks at Sara. “Come on, babe. Your turn.”

“It’s so pretty.” She surveys her S with an uncertain smile. “Maybe I want to save it.”

“No more saving things.” Trent grins. “From now on, we enjoy what we want in our own time.”

“Besides,” I assure her, “there’s more where that came from.”

“Okay.” She stuffs the whole thing in her mouth, giggling as she gobbles her marshmallow. “I think I’m going to enjoy our new life.”

I don’t think so. I know it.

And as we lean in to kiss with our mouths full of marshmallow, our fingertips sticky with sweetness, I’m sure we’re all seeing the same exact future.