“We’re communicating.” Cole prowls toward me.
I back up, but not fast enough. He grips my thighs, tosses me over his shoulder, and carries me out of room.
Down the hall and into the master bedroom, we go. I try not to feel him up, but he’s shirtless and ripped and… I press my nose to his shoulder blade. Fuck, he smells so damn good. Like home.
He drops me on the bed. “Roll over.”
I close my eyes and relax into the bedding, pretending to ignore him just for the fun of it.
“Danni,” he growls.
“He thinks his bossiness is hot,” I mumble, peeking an eye open. “And maybe it is, but dammit, you can’t let him order you around all the time.”
“Are you talking to yourself?” A grin pulls on the corner of his mouth.
“When I need brilliant advice, I consult an expert.”
A smile cracks his face—all dimples and straight teeth and glittering brown eyes. Then he launches, his bare chest hard against mine, his hands in my hair, and a knee wedged between my legs.
“You shatter me,” he breathes against my lips.
I hum with contentment. “We can fall apart together.”
He gives me a searching look, expression raw with hope and hunger and something else—the mystery of chemistry, the irrefutable bond that glues us together. It’s a look that shares a kiss and steals the breath without so much as a touch of lips. A look that teems with the desire to leap, to fall, to give in and go under.
He doesn’t make us suffer, leaning his face closer and covering my mouth with aching softness. His lips slide lovingly, worshipfully, against mine. His fingers tighten against my scalp, and his breathing sprints into labored panting. He parts my mouth with his tongue, searching, sipping. The best part is the feel of his smile right before he plunges deeply and kisses the hell out of me.
We go wild, seething with heat and passion and surrender. I writhe beneath him, grazing fingernails across his biceps, relearning the silken feel of his skin, and relishing the steely flex of the muscle as he clenches me tightly against him.
He tastes exactly the way I remember, like sunshine on the tailwind of a thunderstorm. His whiskers scratch my cheeks. The heavy weight of his body presses me exquisitely into the mattress, and his devilish tongue annihilates my senses.
The way he kisses me gets me every time, his lips so full of desire it feels like a first kiss, a reckless kiss, a forgot-my-own-name kiss, all rolled up into a perfect alignment of ridiculous happiness.
And yet, as intoxicating as it is, I’m conscious of the man I left in the other room.
The instant I think of Trace, I open my eyes and collide with the crystal blue of his. He stands beside the bed with his hands behind him, head angled down and deep lines of displeasure bracketing his scowl.
I pull my mouth away, fighting for air and drowning in shame.
“Go away,” Cole says to Trace and kisses along my neck.
I try to push him off, but he’s stubbornly immovable. Panic sets in, speeding up my pulse. I don’t want to upset Trace or cause a fight. At the same time, I don’t want to rebuff Cole’s affection and hurt him.
“You’re not doing anything wrong, Danni.” Trace’s gaze flicks to Cole and narrows dangerously.
“Cole.” I cradle his face and lean back, meeting his eyes. “If Trace is uncomfortable, I’m uncomfortable.”
He releases a heavy breath and drops his head on my shoulder. I run a hand through his hair, watching Trace watch me. Cole is smart enough to know if the roles were reversed, if he were the one standing on the outside, he wouldn’t like it.
Reluctantly, he climbs off the bed, avoiding Trace’s stare. Then he stalks across the room and disappears inside the bathroom.
Trace removes his shirt and jeans and climbs into bed wearing only boxer briefs.
“What are you doing?” I glare at him, scooting toward the edge of the mattress. “It’s too early to go to bed.”
He reaches over and pulls me across his chest, positioning me face down on top of him.
“Relax.” Lifting the shirt, he bares my backside to the cool air.
“It’s hard to relax when I don’t know what’s going on.” As the words leave my mouth, my body betrays me, softening happily against his.
Cole returns with a tube of ointment, and his face hardens as he takes in my position. Then he blinks away the tension and kneels on the bed beside me.
“I’ll be honest.” He rubs a dollop of cold cream into the sore flesh across my buttocks. “This isn’t easy.”
I move to roll off Trace, but he wraps his arms around my back, preventing escape.
“Not being able to touch you the way I want…” Cole runs a finger along my butt crack. “Seeing the way you look at him, splitting my time with you over the next six months—none of this is easy.” He caps the ointment and sets it aside, lowering his voice. “But it’s worth it.”
My chest constricts, and I reach a hand toward him. He grips my fingers and stretches on the bed beside me, resting on his side with his head on the pillow.
Beneath me, Trace doesn’t move, his eyes closed and lips curved downward. As the silence drags on, they seem content to just lie here without talking. But not me. Silence makes me analyze, and over-analyze, and it won’t be long before I start belaboring everything we’ve already discussed.
I stroke my thumb across Cole’s knuckles. “I hate when it goes quiet and my brain is like, ‘Hey, you should say something annoying just to fill the void.’ But I’ve already said all the annoying things I want to say today.”
“I’ll never tire of listening to you talk.” Trace peeks at me from beneath hooded eyelids.
“I was going to suggest we watch a movie.” Cole rolls to his back. “According to you, there’s only one movie in existence, and you know all the lines. So you can talk until your voice is raw.”
His suggestion makes me want to jump up and down with excitement, except he knows all the lines, too, and Trace doesn’t. Is that why he suggested it? To one-up Trace? My stomach sinks. For the first time in my life, I don’t feel like watching Dirty Dancing.
“Don’t freak out,” I say, trying not to freak out, “but what do you think about choosing a different movie? What do you guys want to watch?”
“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Cole says.
Trace studies me with tapered eyes.
“We’re here to grow and learn and figure out the future, right?” I stretch over him and snatch the remote off the night stand. “I can’t do that unless I expand my horizons.” I set the device on his chest and settle on the bed between them. “Might as well start with a new movie genre.”
As Trace powers on the TV and surfs through the channels, I grip his free hand, still holding tight to Cole’s in my other.
If being with one or the other is a choice, when did I decide to love them both?
I didn’t.