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.
“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.