Page 64

By the time we finally collapse together, tangled and exhausted and thoroughly ruined, the sheets are a mess and someone—probably Hunter—muttered something about replacing the mattress.

“I’m never moving again,” I mumble into Grayson’s chest.

“Good,” Caleb says, tucking the blanket around me like I’m something precious. “Because we’re not letting you go.”

Hunter’s hand slides over my waist, fingers lacing with Grayson’s where they rest on my stomach.

“She’s ours,” he says simply.

But then he adds, voice low and rough, “And I haven’t even had you yet.”

My breath catches. I shift slightly, meeting his eyes in the dark. There’s something coiled and tense in him—desire held in check, aching for release.

“You don’t have to hold back,” I whisper, cupping his cheek.

His jaw flexes. “I didn’t want to rush you. Didn’t want to make this about me.”

“It is about you,” I say, guiding his hand to my hip. “All of you.”

Hunter exhales like he’s been holding it in for hours, then rolls me gently onto my back. Grayson and Caleb move without hesitation—Caleb pressing soft kisses along my shoulder, Grayson stroking my thigh, murmuring encouragement against my skin.

Hunter hovers over me for a beat, eyes locked to mine. “You good?”

I nod, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Please.”

He sinks into me slowly, carefully, and I can feel the restraint shaking through his whole body.

“Oh my god,” I gasp, hands gripping his back.

He buries his face in my neck. “Fuck. You feel like heaven.”

Caleb’s fingers twine with mine, anchoring me to the moment as Hunter begins to move, deep and deliberate. Grayson is on the other side, stroking my cheek, kissing me slow and sweet as Hunter’s pace builds.

Every thrust is a promise, a confession, a need finally unchained.

He’s usually the rough one, the sharp edge. But right now, Hunter is trembling with how much he feels. His hand cups the back of my knee, angling me just right, and when I cry out softly, he groans like it breaks him open.

“You’re mine,” he says against my skin. “You’re all of ours—but right now, Rilee, you’re mine.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, Hunter.”

His rhythm falters, his breath catching as he fights to stay in control. “I’m not gonna last.”

“Don’t,” I whisper. “I want all of you.”

And that’s all it takes.

He comes with a ragged groan, body shuddering against mine. I cradle him as he collapses beside me, sweat-damp and wrecked, one hand still tangled in my hair.

For a few heartbeats, the room is quiet but for the sound of breathing—slow, tangled, shared.

“Now we’re even,” I mumble, dazed and satisfied.

Hunter snorts softly. “We’re never even. Not when it comes to you.”

Grayson pulls the blanket up over all of us, while Caleb nuzzles into the crook of my neck like he’s trying to memorize the shape of me.

“Love you,” someone whispers. I don’t even know who—it could’ve been any of them.

Or maybe it was me.

But either way, it’s true.

I wake slowly, surrounded by warmth and the steady rhythm of three different breathing patterns.

There’s an arm heavy across my waist—Hunter’s, I know from the way his fingers splay possessively even in sleep.

Another hand rests on my hip—Caleb’s, because of course he manages to be handsy even while unconscious.

Behind me, Grayson’s chest rises and falls against my back, his breath tickling my neck.

We made it through the night.

In a too-small bed. In Hunter’s parents’ house. Without getting caught.

I take a moment to just exist in this—the impossible comfort of being held by all three of them, the morning light filtering through lace curtains, the distant sounds of someone moving around downstairs.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Hunter mumbles against my hair, not opening his eyes.

“Sorry,” I whisper back.

His arm tightens around me. “Don’t apologize. Just means you’re awake.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Mm.” He presses a sleepy kiss to my forehead. “Proud of you.”

That catches me off guard. “For what?”

“Surviving dinner. My grandmother. This bed situation.” His thumb strokes my ribs absently. “You’re incredible.”

Behind me, Grayson stirs, pressing closer. “She is,” he agrees, voice rough with sleep. “Handled everything perfectly.”

“Like a champ,” Caleb adds, because apparently everyone’s awake now. He stretches, somehow managing to take up even more space. “Though I still think we should’ve taken your grandma up on the logistics conversation she wanted.”

“We are never discussing my grandmother and logistics in the same sentence again,” Hunter says firmly.

“Nobody move,” I whisper.

“No one’s going to just barge in,” Caleb says against my neck. “Your grandma literally winked at us.”

“She did not—”

“She absolutely did,” Grayson confirms from somewhere near my hip. “Right after she mentioned the ‘reinforced bed frame’ in Hunter’s room.”

Hunter groans into his pillow. “I’m never going to emotionally recover from this.”

We’re still tangled in the too-small bed, my heart racing at the idea of getting caught. The morning light makes everything feel surreal—like we’re living in some alternate universe where Hunter’s grandmother is our biggest ally.

“We should get up,” I say, making no move to actually do so.

“Or,” Caleb suggests, his hand sliding under the hem of my sleep shirt, “we could stay right here.”

“Caleb,” I warn, but it comes out breathier than intended.

“What? They already know. Cat’s out of the bag. Or should I say… cats? Plural?”

Hunter lifts his head to glare at him. “Did you just make a poly joke?”

“I’m processing through humor.”

Grayson’s thumb traces circles on my hip, slow and deliberate. “The door locks,” he points out quietly.

We all turn to look at him.

“Just saying,” he adds with a shrug.

“That’s…” I start to protest, but Caleb’s mouth is already on my neck, and my thoughts scatter. “We can’t. Your parents—”

“Are downstairs making breakfast,” Hunter says, but he’s already moving closer, his voice dropping.

“This is a terrible idea,” I breathe, even as I arch into Caleb’s touch.

“The worst,” Grayson agrees, pulling me back against his chest. “Absolutely inappropriate.”

But his hands are already in my hair, tilting my head back so he can kiss me properly. Deep and slow and thorough, like he’s got all the time in the world.

“Fuck,” Hunter mutters, watching us with dark eyes. “You’re going to kill me.”

Caleb grins against my shoulder. “Get in line, Captain. We’ve got a system, remember?”

“We do not have a system—” I try to say, but Grayson swallows the words with another kiss.

“Sure we do,” Caleb continues cheerfully. “It’s called ‘everyone worship Rilee until she forgets how to speak.’”

“That’s not—oh,” I gasp as Hunter’s mouth finds my throat.

“See?” Caleb sounds entirely too pleased with himself. “System’s working already.”

“You talk too much,” Hunter growls, but there’s affection in it.

“You don’t talk enough,” Caleb counters. “Rilee likes the praise. Don’t you, beautiful?”

I’m too focused on the three sets of hands mapping my skin to form actual words.

“She’s perfect,” Grayson murmurs, pressing kisses along my jaw. “Look how she responds to us.”

“Like she was made for this,” Hunter agrees, voice rough. “Made for us.”

“Guys,” I manage, overwhelmed by their attention, their words, the sheer impossibility of fitting four people in this bed.

“Shh,” Caleb soothes, fingers tangling with mine. “Let us take care of you. You’ve been so good all weekend. So patient with the questions, the looks…”

“So brave,” Grayson adds quietly.

“So ours,” Hunter finishes, and something about the possessive pride in his voice makes me shiver.

A knock at the door has us all freezing.

“Breakfast in twenty!” Mrs. Maddox calls through the door. “And Hunter? Your grandmother says to tell you the walls in this house are surprisingly thin.”

Absolute silence.

Then, mortification. “Noted, Mom.”

Her footsteps retreat.

I bury my face in the nearest chest—Grayson’s, I think—and let out a muffled groan.

“I’m never leaving this bed,” I announce. “I live here now. Tell my parents I died of embarrassment.”

“Technically, we’re the ones who should be embarrassed,” Caleb points out. “It’s Hunter’s family.”

“I’m moving to Alaska,” Hunter says flatly. “Alone. Forever.”

“Can we finish what we started first?” Grayson asks mildly.

We all look at him.

“What? She said twenty minutes.”

“Oh my god,” I laugh despite myself. “We’re not—”

But Caleb’s already kissing me again, sweet and insistent. “Twenty-five,” he bargains between kisses. “We can be five minutes late for breakfast.”

“This is still a terrible idea,” I insist, even as I pull Hunter closer. These men have never done anything in twenty-five minutes.

“The worst,” he agrees, before capturing my mouth with his.

The kiss deepens, Hunter’s hand tangling in my hair while Caleb presses closer behind me. I can feel Grayson’s steady presence, his hand warm on my hip, grounding me even as everything else spins.

“We have to be quiet,” I whisper against Hunter’s mouth, already failing at my own instruction when Caleb’s lips find that spot behind my ear.

“You’re the loud one,” Hunter teases, voice low and rough.

“Am not—” I start to protest, but Grayson chooses that moment to kiss along my shoulder, and I have to bite my lip to stay silent.

“See?” Hunter’s smirking now, that rare, playful expression that transforms his whole face. “Already struggling.”

“You’re all terrible,” I manage, but I’m smiling, overwhelmed by how much I love them, how safe I feel even in this ridiculous situation.

And then there’s Grayson.

I feel him before I see him—his hand grazing the waistband of my shorts, the soft drag of his knuckles along bare skin. He doesn’t rush. He never does. When I glance back, his eyes are dark with something molten, focused entirely on me like I’m the only thing in the world he sees.

“We don’t have to rush,” he murmurs, low and sure. “We just have to start.”

My breath catches, and that’s all the permission any of them need.

Hands tug at my clothes. Lips find new places to worship. Someone—Caleb, I think—peels my shirt over my head with a grin that’s more mischief than menace.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he says, like it’s the first time, like it’ll always be the first time.

Hunter groans. “How are we supposed to be quiet?”

“You’re the loud one,” I shoot back, breathless.

“You haven’t heard me yet,” he says, and then he’s kissing down my chest like he plans to prove it.

My head drops back onto Grayson’s shoulder as his arms close around me, anchoring me.

His mouth finds my neck, and when I arch into him, I feel the low rumble of his pleasure against my back.

Hunter’s teeth graze sensitive skin and my gasp becomes a moan, muffled only by Caleb’s lips when he leans in to claim my mouth again.

Everything becomes sensation. Warm hands. Soft gasps. The brush of sheets against skin and the heat of four bodies tangled together. There’s no awkwardness here—just familiarity, desire, and the kind of trust that makes me feel weightless.

Grayson shifts beneath me, pulling me into his lap. “I want to watch you fall apart,” he whispers, and the words burn down my spine.

“I hate you,” I whisper, dizzy from how badly I don’t mean it.

He smiles against my throat. “No, you don’t.”

And then Hunter is between my thighs, and Caleb’s hand is laced with mine, and Grayson is steady behind me, coaxing me open with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

I’ve never felt anything like this.

Loved from all sides. Claimed without shame. Not a single part of me hidden, and not a single part of them holding back.

It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

The sounds that slip from my lips aren’t quiet, no matter how hard I try. They shiver out of me—moans, gasps, broken pleas. I’m not sure who makes me come first, only that it’s everywhere at once. Fingers. Tongues. Words like silk and fire.

When I finally fall back, trembling and flushed, they don’t let me go.

Caleb wraps his arms around me like I’m something precious.

Hunter kisses the inside of my thigh with a murmured, “So fucking worth it.” Grayson presses a kiss to my shoulder and rests his forehead there, his breath warm and steady.

And just when I think I might actually float away from all of it—the emotion, the ridiculous intimacy of the moment—Hunter’s phone alarm goes off.

We all groan in unison.

“Time’s up,” he says, muffled against the blanket.

“Five more minutes?” Caleb pleads, sounding far too hopeful.

“Absolutely not,” Hunter says. “She’ll come up here. With a broom.”

Right on cue, his grandmother’s voice floats up the stairs. “I hope everyone’s decent! Cinnamon rolls are getting cold!”

We scatter. Or try to. There’s a lot of limbs. And laughter. And Caleb somehow getting stuck in the blanket like a human burrito.

“Okay,” I say, trying to smooth my hair while Hunter throws a hoodie at me. “Everyone act natural at breakfast.”

“Natural,” Grayson repeats, entirely deadpan.

“We’re so doomed,” Hunter mutters, but there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As we finally manage to make ourselves somewhat presentable and start for the stairs, Caleb catches my hand.

“Worth it?” he asks quietly.

I glance at all of them—rumpled, flustered, and completely mine.

“Always,” I say.

And I mean it. With every inch of my messy, overfull heart.

Another set of footsteps get closer.

“Everyone look platonic!” I hiss, frantically fixing my hair.

“How does one look platonic?” Caleb asks, genuinely curious.

“Not like that!” I gesture at his general state of shirtless contentment.

The door opens again. Mrs. Maddox, Mr. Maddox, and Grandma, (grinning like she just won the lottery.

Everyone freezes.

Mrs. Maddox’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

Mr. Maddox looks like he’s doing very complicated math in his head.

Ellie’s practically vibrating with glee.

And Grandma?

Grandma takes one look at all of us, smiles serenely, and says, “Patricia, you owe me twenty dollars.”

“Mother!” Mrs. Maddox gasps.

“What? I told you they were sharing. Though I expected them to last at least two nights before ending up like this.” She peers at me over her glasses. “Dear, that’s a very small bed for four people. Hunter’s room has a king.”

“GRANDMA,” Hunter groans, covering his face with a pillow.

“Just being practical,” she says primly. “Now, who wants cinnamon rolls?”