Page 63

“On it,” Grayson says smoothly.

The second he leaves, I drop my forehead against the cabinet. “We’re so obvious.”

“We’re perfect,” Caleb argues, still grinning.

“We’re idiots,” Hunter corrects.

Five minutes later, while I’m still trying to get my heart rate under control and the coffee’s brewing, Grandma Maddox sweeps into the kitchen like a silver-haired detective.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she says pleasantly, hopping up onto a barstool with surprising agility. “Though perhaps someone could explain the logistics.”

“Grandma,” Hunter groans.

“What? I’m eighty-three. I’ve earned the right to be direct.” She focuses on me. “So. All three?”

I make a sound that’s half cough, half death rattle.

“Grandma, seriously—”

“Oh, hush, Hunter. I’m not judging. I’m just curious.” She turns to Caleb. “You seem the most forthcoming. How does this work exactly?”

Caleb perks up. “Well, we don’t have a schedule—”

“We absolutely do NOT have a schedule,” I interrupt, voice pitched too high.

“Calendar?” Grandma continues thoughtfully. “Shared Google doc?”

Hunter kicks Caleb under the counter.

“Ow! I’m just saying, she asked about logistics—”

“We’re very… close friends,” Grayson interjects calmly, setting a coffee mug in front of Grandma. “Who share a living space.”

“And Rilee?” Grandma prompts.

“Is… also our friend,” Grayson continues, unruffled. “Who we care about very much.”

“All three of you.”

“Yes.”

“Equally?”

“Grandma,” Hunter warns.

She waves him off. “I’m fascinated. In my day, this sort of thing was all very hush-hush. Though there was that summer in ‘65…” She trails off, eyes distant.

I’m now approximately the color of the cranberry sauce.

Seriously just kill me now.

“It’s really not that complicated,” Caleb says, because apparently he has a death wish. “We all love Rilee, Rilee loves—”

Hunter slaps a hand over his mouth.

Grandma’s eyebrows climb toward her hairline. “Love?”

“Strong like,” Hunter says quickly. “He meant strong like.”

“I know what I heard.” Grandma’s looking at me now, expression softer. “Dear, are you happy?”

The question catches me off guard. I glance between them—Caleb still muzzled by Hunter, Grayson steady as always, Hunter looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Yes,” I say quietly. “Really happy.”

Grandma nods once, decisive. “Good. That’s all that matters.” She takes a sip of coffee. “Though I do have questions about the bedroom arrange—”

“OKAY,” Hunter says loudly, “who wants to watch football?”

“I do!” I practically shout, already backing toward the door.

Grandma chuckles into her mug. “Spoilsports. Though dinner’s going to be very interesting tomorrow when your Aunt Katherine arrives.”

Hunter pales. “Aunt Katherine’s coming?”

“Oh yes. With her new boyfriend. He’s a therapist.” Grandma’s smile is positively wicked. “Specializes in alternative relationship structures.”

I flee.

Behind me, I hear Caleb say, “Actually, that sounds helpful—”

And then the distinct sound of Hunter tackling him.

By the time we escape to the guest rooms, I’m exhausted from dodging questions and managing wandering hands. Mrs. Maddox, bless her, put me in the nice guest room with the queen bed. The guys are supposedly sharing the basement rec room with its pull-out couch and air mattresses.

Supposedly.

I’m barely under the covers when my door creaks open.

“No,” I whisper into the darkness. “Absolutely not.”

“Just for a little bit,” Caleb whispers back, already sliding under the covers. “I can’t sleep down there. Hunter keeps muttering about his grandmother.”

“Because she tried to give him a book about polyamory at dessert!”

“Which was thoughtful,” Caleb argues, curling around me like an oversized golden retriever. “Very progressive for her generation.”

Another creak. Grayson’s silhouette appears in the doorway.

“Let me guess,” I sigh. “You can’t sleep either.”

“Hunter’s grinding his teeth,” he says simply, already moving toward the bed.

“This bed is not big enough for—”

The door opens again.

“If everyone else is up here,” Hunter mutters, “I’m not staying in the basement like an idiot.”

“Your parents are going to murder us,” I hiss.

“Only if they find out,” Caleb says, already yanking me closer.

“Which they will, because this bed is made for two people, not four!”

But they’re already arranging themselves—Hunter pressed against the wall, me next to him, Caleb spooning me from behind, and Grayson… looking at the very limited space remaining.

“Floor?” he suggests.

“Don’t you dare,” I say. “Just… squeeze in.”

What follows is five minutes of the most ridiculous Tetris game ever played, complete with whispered arguments, someone’s elbow in someone else’s ribs, and Caleb getting kicked at least twice. Once in the nuts, apparently—which is very painful.

Finally, we settle in. Hunter is on his back with my head on his chest, Caleb pressed against my back, and Grayson somehow folded around all of us like the world’s most patient human blanket.

“Nobody moves,” I warn. “Nobody breathes loud. Nobody—”

“Riles?” Caleb whispers.

“What?”

“I’m kinda horny.”

“Shush. You’re fine,” I say, wiggling closer to his warmth.

Hunter curses under his breath. “Abso-fucking-lutely not.”

I hear Caleb chuckle. “By the way, your grandma was totally hitting on me.”

Hunter groans. “She was not.”

“She said I had ‘good energy’ and asked if I knew how to foxtrot.”

“That’s just how she talks,” Hunter insists.

“She touched my bicep.”

“Caleb, I swear to God—”

“Boys,” I interrupt. “Sleep. Now.”

Silence falls. Grayson asks quietly, “Did anyone else notice Hunter’s dad keeps a color-coded spreadsheet of his wine collection?”

“With subcategories for region and vintage,” Caleb adds. “I respect the organization.”

“You would,” Hunter mutters.

I’m about to threaten them all when footsteps sound in the hallway. We freeze like guilty teenagers.

The steps pause outside my door.

Nobody breathes.

Then they continue on, and we all exhale as one.

“First one to make a sound gets murdered,” I whisper.

“Kinky,” Caleb breathes against my neck.

I elbow him. He just pulls me closer.

Grayson removes my shirt and worships my breasts with his mouth.

Caleb slides my sleep shorts off, his hands gentle but purposeful, thumbs brushing the curve of my hips as if he’s savoring every inch.

Hunter shifts down the bed, dark eyes fixed on mine as he eases my legs apart and settles between them. He rasps out a low groan.

“Quiet,” I whisper, but my voice is already trembling.

“Then don’t be so goddamn perfect,” Hunter murmurs against the inside of my thigh, his breath warm and maddening. He presses a kiss there, then another, working his way inward with a patience that makes me want to scream.

Above me, Grayson strokes my cheek. “Let us take care of you,” he says softly. “Just feel, baby.”

I nod, unable to form words as his mouth returns to my breast, hot and worshipful, while Caleb trails kisses down my side.

His hands spread across my ribs, grounding me, anchoring me in the whirlwind of sensation.

I can feel him stroking himself—the flex of his bicep as he moves, his fist bumping my hip.

It’s hot as hell how uninhibited he is when it comes to sex.

Then Hunter licks a long, slow stripe through me, and I arch off the bed before I can stop myself.

Caleb huffs a laugh, muffled against my shoulder. “So much for staying quiet.”

I reach down blindly and grab a fistful of whatever part of him I can find—his hair, maybe. “Shut up and don’t stop.”

Hunter definitely doesn’t stop. His tongue moves with maddening skill, alternating between soft, teasing strokes and sharp, focused flicks that have me panting.

Grayson’s mouth is still at my chest, but one of his hands slips lower, fingers joining the party.

The contrast of his touch and Hunter’s tongue is too much—too good—and I’m already trembling, teetering on the edge.

“Let go,” Grayson whispers against my skin, and it sounds like a promise.

And I do. I come with a stifled cry, biting my own hand to keep from screaming as they hold me through it—steady, safe, theirs.

By the time I stop shaking, I’m limp between them, breathless and utterly undone.

But they’re not done with me.

Grayson kisses up my body and captures my mouth in a slow, deep kiss that feels like honey and smoke. Caleb is already easing me onto my side, spooning me from behind, his hard length pressing against the curve of my ass.

“Still with us?” he whispers, lips brushing my ear.

“Always,” I manage, turning enough to kiss him too.

Hunter moves up beside us, brushing a thumb along my jaw. “Your turn.”

I blink, confused. “What?”

“For you to ruin us,” Grayson says, his voice rough and low.

My body sparks at the invitation, heat pulsing low and heavy.

I reach for Grayson first, guiding him over me, and he sinks into me with a groan that lights me on fire from the inside out.

Caleb holds me steady from behind, one hand stroking my hip as Grayson moves—slow, deep, dragging every second out like he wants it burned into memory.

Hunter kisses me like he’s starving, and I tangle my fingers in his hair, moaning into his mouth as Grayson thrusts harder, Caleb murmuring praise into my neck.

“God, you feel so good,” Grayson groans. “So perfect like this.”

I come again, this time clinging to all three of them, lost in the intensity and the feeling of being completely claimed, completely adored.

When Grayson follows with a shudder and a curse, I hold him to me, kissing his jaw as he trembles.

We trade places—Caleb sliding in next with a reverent whisper of my name, Hunter curling behind me, stroking my hair, his voice a low murmur against the back of my neck.

“You look so sexy taking Caleb’s cock, princess,” Hunter whispers.

I shake and moan, unable to stop myself.

There’s no rush. No pressure. Just warmth, movement, and the thrum of hearts beating in sync.