Stir (The Sizzle TV Series Book 5)

Epilogue

“Close your mouth, Moira, you’ll catch flies.”

She splutters. “Well, excuse me, but I’ve aged a decade since the last time I saw you eat a croissant. Color me surprised.” I roll my eyes.

“It’s not a decade.” Bill and Jillie’s croissants taste every bit as good as I remember. “You’re going to make me too self-conscious to enjoy it if you keep staring.”

That shuts her up. For a minute.

“It clearly agrees with you,” she observes, sipping her latte.

“What does?” The late spring air is warm enough, so we decided to sit outside for coffee today. It’s just pure good luck that Moira’s voice doesn’t carry as much out here.

“Ménage à trois.”

“Moira.” I thank God and every saint whose name I can remember that we chose to sit out here and that only one table of customers turns to stare at us.

She studies me carefully.

“I mean it,” she says. “You look good. Really good. Are you pregnant?”

“I hate you so much,” I say, covering my face.

“Hmm,” she says, tapping her fingernail to her cup. They’re blue this time—her gels, not the cup. “Not pregnant. Just getting laid on the regular. And properly, I bet.”

“I’m not discussing that with you.”

“Inquiring minds want to know,” she says, leaning in. “Like, when you’re in bed, do they?—”

Spotting a familiar face, I sit up straight and wave. “Sully!”

Finn’s cousin smiles, diverting away from the café door and coming up to give me a hug.

“Good to see you, Natalie. How are you?”

“I’m good. Great,” I say. Moira clears her throat. “Oh. Sully, this is my friend Moira. Moira, this is Sullivan?—”

“Call me Sully,” he says. His smile falters, and for the life of me, I cannot figure out why. Men falter plenty around Moira, but they’re usually smiling when they do it. She’s incredibly lovely, poised in that innate female way I somehow missed. And if that wasn’t enough to make men trip over their own tongues, the gorgeous Irish copper-red color of her hair usually did the rest.

It’s hard sometimes, having a beautiful woman for a best friend. If I didn’t love her so much, I’d be tempted to hate her.

Moira shakes his hand, looking puzzled. “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

Sully shakes his head, giving a half-hearted attempt, his smile flickering like a busted streetlight. “I’m sure I’d remember.”

Moira snaps her fingers. “Rusty’s. The pub over on Tavers. I’ve seen you in there.”

Sully’s mouth drops open but just as quickly snaps shut. “Could be,” he says, stepping back. “I’ve got to go. Good to see you, Natalie. Tell Finn to call me sometime. Nice to meet you, Moira.”

He’s gone before I can say another word.

“That was weird,” says Moira, frowning into her cup. “Is he always like that?”

“Not at all.”

“How do you know him?”

“He’s Finn’s cousin,” I say. “And speaking of Finn, I’d better get going. They’re expecting me home any minute now.”

“Home, huh?”

I can’t stop the smile splitting across my face.

“Yeah.”

Moira looks at me, no teasing, no suggestive questions. Just looks at me.

“You’re happy,” she says.

“Yes.”

She gets up, pulling me into an uncharacteristically big hug. When she pushes me back, I’m shocked to see tears in her eyes.

“Oh, shut up,” she says, laughing it off. “I’m happy for you. Nobody deserves it more than you, Natalie.”

Just for that, I hug her again.

Lettingmyself in with my own key is still a thrill. The apartment is quiet, but for Cat meowing at me from the back of the sofa.

“Where are they, huh? Out for a run?” I ask him, scratching behind his ears.

A heavy thud comes from down the hall.

Not out running.

A broken moan confirms it. Toeing off my shoes, I creep down the hall, wondering just what kind of scene I’ll find this time.

Finn has a serious thing for getting caught fooling around. He bent me over the sink in the bathroom just two days ago; the door cracked open just enough. Somehow, he timed it exactly right so Nic would get home and see… well, he’d gotten an eyeful. And we’d all gotten off after that.

Sure enough, this time, the bedroom door is open, but instead of finding Finn at work seducing Nic, he’s standing at the foot of the bed, holding the footboard in a death grip, with Nic kneeling at his feet. Finn’s angled away, just enough he won’t be able to see the door, even if he manages to open his eyes.

I don’t make a sound, pausing in the doorway to watch, letting the anticipation build. I’d never have thought the sight of two men together would fire me up so much. But I also never expected love to feel the way it does. What I feel for them, it’s not diminished when they love each other like this or when any of us are paired instead of three. What we have compounds, gets bigger, and fills every room to overflowing. It doesn’t matter who is touching whom or when or which bodies have which parts. Every move, every touch, every word—all of it builds us up together. Watching them kiss and touch and love each other, yeah, it’s sexy. But this isn’t just about bodies.

This is more. This is us. This is the rest of our lives together.

Nic catches sight of me, a filthy smile growing on his face as he works Finn harder, sucking and licking like he’s going to get him off in a hurry. Finn’s knuckles tighten on the bed frame, and he groans.

“God, you’re good at this,” he says, his voice rasping. “Natalie is going to lose her mind when I tell her how hot you were to suck me off today?—”

Nic groans. The vibration in his throat must feel good to Finn. His hips hitch like he can’t hold himself still.

“Such a good cocksucker. She gets herself off thinking about you like this, you know.” Finn keeps going, the dirty talk coming faster and easier now. Once we caught on to how much Nic liked it, Finn made a point of pressing that button every chance we got.

I move slowly into the bedroom, as quietly as I can, stripping my clothes off. No more hiding. Not from them.

Nic tracks me with his eyes, his mouth slowing to a crawl over Finn’s body. Finn groans again, frustrated this time.

Close enough to touch, I lean in close to Finn, pitching my words at Nic.

“You’re right. I love to see him on his knees.”

They both groan at that. Nic shoves away, rising to his feet as Finn turns to take me in his arms, hitching me up on the bed, kissing the breath out of me. His hands are everywhere as he tips me back on the mattress.

“Gorgeous,” he mutters. “God, Natalie.” Testing the slick heat between my legs, he slides in deep. Nic is right there, feet on the floor, bent low over Finn’s back. I hear the cap—lube, and its rude, wet noises—the sounds all but drowned out by the absolute ecstasy on Finn’s face, the relentless need on Nic’s.

Finn is almost out of his mind, throbbing deep inside me, shaking with the heat of it, but he manages to get the words out, telling me in explicit detail exactly what Nic is doing to get his body ready—how fast he’s going, how thick his fingers are, how good it feels, how he wants it so, so much.

When Nic finally pushes into Finn, I can feel it, that electric heat between us building to indescribable pleasure, and I come.

More.That’s what we are. We’re more.

Finn loses control, rocking between us, driving into me, and holding on for dear life as Nic works him over. It’s the look on Nic’s face that sets me off the second time, wondrous and joy-filled and loving. Finn thrusts a final time, coming hard as Nic loses his rhythm, grinding against us as he finds his own release.

I relish the weight of them, while it lasts. About the time I notice I can’t take a full breath, Finn flattens his hands, pushing up, all that muscle at play in my service.

It doesn’t suck.

Nic collapses onto the mattress to my left, Finn rolling off to my right. Long moments pass in the afternoon light as we catch our breaths, touching lazily, the affection easier now that the edge is taken off. But I know that lull won’t last for long.

Not for us. For us, there’s always more.

The End.

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