“You think too much.” Cole grins, still kneeling on the floor.
At some point, he removed his shirt, and his chest glistens with perspiration. He lowers his gaze to the swollen length trapped behind his zipper, and a pained expression kills his smile.
I steal a peek at Trace’s groin—also hard as a rock.
With a jab of guilt, I shift to the edge of the couch, aggravating the burn on my backside. “It’s my turn to—”
“No,” they say in unison.
I glance down at my naked body. Should I push the issue and try to seduce them? Or should I cover myself and forget about it?
“I can…” I lower my voice, nervous. “I want to pleasure you. I can do it separately. In different rooms.”
With an agonized growl, Cole stands and paces away, scrubbing a hand through his hair.
Trace drops his head on the back of the couch and closes his eyes.
“I’m making it worse, aren’t I?” I whisper.
Without opening his eyes, he blindly reaches for my hand. “Your car was delivered while you were taking a nap.”
“I don’t care about the car. You’re changing the subject.”
Cole’s amused huff draws my attention across the room. He faces the windows, bent slightly forward with his hands on the ballet bar, smiling at me.
“What?” I ask.
“Yesterday, you cared about the car.”
“Yesterday, I wasn’t staying.” I stand and grab his shirt off the floor.
“Don’t get dressed. I need to rub ointment into your sore backside.” He glances at the outline of his erection. “In a minute.”
“I’ll just put the shirt on.” I pull it over my head, and the hem falls midway down my thighs.
Trace doesn’t move on the couch, his lashes low, expression sleepy, but I feel those heavy-lidded eyes watching me. Cole stares out at the darkening sky, his posture bent and stiff, his hands clenched around the bar. Each of them is battling desire in his own way, and I feel like a greedy tease, standing here half-dressed and glowing with a post-orgasm flush.
“Do you guys feel weird about what just happened?”
“It’s fine, Danni,” Trace murmurs. “Let it go.”
I make an irritated sound. “All that talk about being open and honest—”
“What do you want to know?” Cole straightens and rests his fingertips in his pockets.
“I feel like we’re playing by rules, but I don’t know what the rules are.”
“We’re not playing,” Trace says.
“Maybe you should.”
“What do you mean?” Cole tips his head, brows furrowed.
I walk to the stereo, scroll through the songs, and cue up one. When the soothing guitar chords lead into Lovesong by Adele, I step aimlessly through the room, gently swaying with the husky vocals.
“Music is the soul of life.” I meet Trace’s gaze and turn to Cole. “You sing to it, cry to it, dance, love, laugh… You play it.”
I approach the dance pole and grip it high above my head, circling, humming, and smiling as they follow me with their eyes, seemingly mesmerized.
“Sixty…seventy years from now…” I tilt my face to the rafters, weighing my words. “I want to look back on my life and know that I played it like a song, that I felt it so deeply it gave me chills, and that I savored every vibrating moment—the tragic moments, the blissful moments. I don’t to want miss a second of it. So I say play it in excess, live it up, surfeit yourself on every drop of pleasure. There can never be too many songs or too much dancing. Life should be playful—enjoyed and appreciated to the fullest.” I suddenly realize I’m rocking my hips, subconsciously seduced by the music. With a laugh, I shake my head. “You must think I’m crazy, rattling on and dancing around with a blistered ass.”
“You’re you.” Cole lowers his head, smiling to himself. “Flawless and addictive in every way.”
Trace leans forward and clasps his hands together between his knees. “You are the soul of life.”
My cheeks warm, and my chest rises with a happy sigh. “Are we playing by rules?”
“Loosely.” Trace licks his lips. “Cole and I have guidelines that will bend and evolve as we go. We’ve intentionally kept these from you, because we don’t want to limit you.”
“How do I follow the rules if I don’t know what they are?”
“You don’t,” Cole says. “We know the boundaries and will keep you safely within them.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. “I have concerns.”
“Such as?”
“Sex.”
“One-track mind.” He smirks.
“No.” Maybe. “Sex is the part I screwed up last time.” I peer at Trace. “I don’t feel like I can touch either of you. Or flirt. Or express my feelings in an intimate way.”
“I’ll make this very clear.” His bright blue eyes latch onto mine. “In a polyamorous arrangement, you can cheat on the rules, but not on each other. From your perspective, the only rule is honesty. We want you to act on your feelings.”
“Okay, but we’re not polyamorous.”
“Cole and I aren’t, but you are. You love more than one person, have multiple relationships, and everyone involved is aware and tolerant of what’s going on.”
As I absorb his words, I loathe myself even more. “Then we’ll just avoid sex and skip the whole poly—”
“Poly isn’t defined by sex.” Cole releases a heavy sigh. “As long as you’re romantically committed to both of us and no one else, this is where we’re at.”
“It’s temporary.” I close my eyes, breathe in, and stare at the floor. “Is that why you’re consenting to this? With your time line and rules and hope for a monogamous relationship at the end, you’re crazy enough to believe this is all worth it?”
“Yes.” Trace scowls at me.
“You are worth it,” Cole says firmly and gentles his tone. “Are we good?”
“I think so.”
“Head to the bedroom. I’ll be there in a minute.”
I narrow my eyes. What are they going to discuss without me here?
Suspicious and reluctant, I exit the dance studio and head down the hall toward the bedroom, slapping my bare feet on the tiles with deliberate loudness. Before I reach the doorway, I turn back, tip-toeing as quietly as possible.
When I arrive at the dance room, I press my back against the wall, remaining out of view.
“Because you fucking kissed her,” Cole whispers angrily. “Don’t look at me like that. Your goddamn tongue was down her throat.”
“I’m not the only one who put my mouth on her,” Trace says in a cool tone.
Jesus, I’m gone two seconds and they’re already fighting?
“Yeah, well, I followed the plan,” Cole says, “so get off my back.”
A heavy exhale breathes from the room, followed by a tense silence. I strain my ears, listening for footsteps, whispering, something.
“Danni!” Cole barks, making me jump. “Get your ass to the bedroom.”
“Fuck that.” I storm into the studio and anchor my hands on my hips. “I thought we were done with secrets.”
“I thought we were done sneaking around.” Cole lifts a brow.
“I wasn’t… Okay, maybe I was sneaking.” Something tells me he expected me to do exactly that. “Why are you fighting behind my back?”
“We’re not fighting.” Trace reclines on the couch.