Chapter Eighteen #2
Ronan grips my hip, thrusting forward again, and brings his hand down in a sharp slap against my ass. The sudden sting has me tightening around the twins and moaning against Em, pushing me over the edge once more and drawing deep, guttural groans from all of my guys.
Rowan and Ronan fall into a shared cadence, their movements colliding and accelerating as they chase the same breaking point.
Rowan is the first to falter, a rough groan tearing from him as his rhythm stutters and he spills that heat deep inside me.
Ronan follows close behind, his hand landing against my ass in a sharp, claiming strike that makes me clench around him as his own release rips free, the force of it leaving them breathless and undone.
Em grips the back of my neck, holding himself deep within my throat until Ronan eases free. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he pulls from my mouth and lifts me off Rowan’s cock as well, his voice rough and commanding. “Up we go, baby.”
He kneels beside the twins, who have slumped to the side, their heavy eyes fixed on us.
Em’s knees spread wide as he balances me easily, guiding my legs around his waist. My fingers tighten in his hair as his hands clutch my ass, driving into me again and again.
Within moments, I’m teetering on the edge, tripping, falling, and muffling my scream by biting his neck.
His palm comes down hard on my sensitive cheek, making me tense around him and sending him spiraling over the edge with me.
Our breathing slows, tangled together in the hush that follows the storm.
The room is heavy with heat and the scent of sex, but beneath it all there’s a calm that settles deep in my chest. Em cradles me against his chest with reverence, slowly softening inside me.
Rowan’s hand drifts along my side, his touch lazy and tender, while Ronan’s hand grips my calf, anchoring me in place.
Emerson’s chest rises and falls beneath my cheek, each breath steady and grounding.
“Berk,” Rowan murmurs, his voice rough and thick with exhaustion. “You okay?”
My voice barely breaks the quiet. “More than okay,” I whisper, the words slipping out on a breath. It’s the truth. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel whole—spent, yes, but safe.
A soft laugh passes between them, a low, satisfied rumble that settles deep beneath my skin. The tension that’s always lived between us eases, giving way to something gentler—delicate, earned, and unmistakably real.
Emerson eases free and guides me down beside Rowan before slipping off the mattress.
He returns a moment later with a warm cloth, the gentle touch making me inhale sharply as he cleans the traces of what we shared from my skin.
When he’s done, he drops the cloth into the bin and climbs back into bed without a word.
Ronan pulls the blankets up, tucking them snug around us until the warmth settles in deep.
I’m surrounded by the quiet steadiness of them—heartbeats strong and sure, breaths falling into an easy rhythm that draws me toward sleep.
Rowan’s pulse beats beneath my palm, solid and grounding.
Ronan’s chest rises and falls at my back, his warmth a constant anchor.
Emerson’s thumb traces slow, absent circles along my wrist, a silent reassurance that I’m held, that I belong, and that I’m not alone.
My eyes grow heavy, the edges of the world softening. Sleep pulls at me, gentle but certain, like the tide reclaiming the shore. I stop fighting it.
For once, I let myself drift—into the dark, into the quiet, into them.
When I wake, the light is soft and golden, spilling through the cracks in the curtains.
The room smells of sex and warmth and something that still feels like us.
For a moment, I don’t move. I just listen—to the slow, steady breaths, the faint creak of the mattress as someone shifts, the quiet hum of morning settling in.
Rowan stirs first, his arm tightens around my waist, pulling me closer until my front flushes with his chest. His lips brush the curve of my shoulder in a sleepy kiss that makes my heart ache in the sweetest way. “Morning, baby,” he mumbles, voice rough with sleep.
I smile against the pillow, too content to open my eyes just yet. “Morning,” I whisper back.
Behind me, Ronan’s voice joins in, deeper, softer. “You look too damn peaceful for me to move.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head, his breath warm against my hair. “How do you feel?”
“Like I could sleep for another day,” I murmur, half-laughing. My voice is still rough from the night before, but the sound makes them both smile.
Emerson shifts on the other side of Rowan, stretching long and slow before his hand slides across my hip overtop of Ronan, fingers tracing lazy circles. “You should,” he says quietly. “You earned it.” He leans over, his lips brush the corner of my mouth, just enough to make my pulse stutter.
“I love you,” I whisper before I can stop myself. The words come out soft but sure, carried on the warmth that fills my chest.
Rowan hums against my skin. “Say it again,” he murmurs, eyes still closed.
“I love you,” I repeat, a little louder this time.
Ronan’s palm slides along my side until it rests over my heart. “We love you too,” he says, his voice steady. “More than you’ll ever know.”
Emerson leans in and kisses my forehead, his touch gentle. “You drive us crazy, you know that?” His smile is faint, tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I wouldn’t trade this for anything.”
For a while, none of us moves. We just lie there, tangled and quiet, the morning stretching out around us like a secret. The kind that belongs only to us.
Eventually, Emerson pushes himself up with a soft groan, rubbing the back of his neck. The sheet slips low on his hips, and he runs a hand through his hair, already looking more awake than the rest of us.
“I’m gonna check on Kimber,” he says after a beat, his voice gentler now. “See how she’s holding up.”
Rowan nods, eyes still half-lidded. “She’ll be fine, but yeah, she needs you.”
I reach for Emerson’s hand before he can leave the bed, giving it a squeeze. “Tell her I said I’m here for her,” I whisper.
He smiles down at me, the kind that softens all the sharp edges in him. “I will,” he says, then leans in for one last kiss, slow and tender. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’m not,” I promise.
He rises and stretches, the morning light tracing the lines of his back as muscle shifts beneath skin.
There’s no rush to him—every movement easy, self-assured, impossible not to notice.
He pulls on a pair of shorts, catches me watching, and flashes a quick, playful wink that sends warmth blooming across my cheeks.
Then he heads for the door, footsteps soft as he slips out, taking the lingering heat of the moment with him and leaving behind a quiet that feels almost too gentle to disturb—peaceful in a way that makes me wary of how much I want to hold on to it.
The morning drifts slowly, sunlight spilling across tangled sheets and warm skin.
The twins flank me on either side, both too comfortable to move.
Rowan’s fingers trace lazy circles along my arm while Ronan’s hand rests possessively on my thigh, his thumb stroking in a rhythm that matches the quiet pulse in the room.
The air hums with a quiet, drowsy calm—an unfamiliar kind of peace after what we’ve lived through.
I know I should get up. Today isn’t meant for lingering—it’s the day we start drawing Bryce closer, tightening the line, and figuring out where Dean vanished to. But for a moment longer, I let myself stay still, wrapped in their warmth, breathing them in before the world demands my attention.
Rowan murmurs against my hair. “We could stay like this forever, you know.”
Ronan snorts lightly. “You’d get hungry first.”
I laugh, turning just enough to meet his grin.
“You’re probably right. And someone has to make sure you two don’t live off protein shakes and takeout.
” With a groan, I push myself up, stretching until my back pops.
Both twins make the same sound of protest, one playful, one serious.
“Come on,” I say with a teasing smile as I slide from the bed.
“If we’re going to start a war today, we might as well eat first.”
By the time we make it to the kitchen, the morning has settled into the house.
Sunlight spills through the wide windows, washing the countertops in soft gold.
I move through the space on instinct—pulling ingredients from the fridge, setting a pan on the burner, letting the familiar rhythm take over.
Behind me, the twins drift in without a word, quiet footsteps crossing the tile, barstools scraping softly as they take their seats at the island, content to watch.
“Now this,” Rowan punctuates, his voice amused, “is better than any damn movie.”
Ronan hums his agreement, his gaze tracking my movements. “Can’t blame us for appreciating the view.”
I toss him a look over my shoulder, feigning annoyance even as my lips twitch. “You two could always help, you know.”
“Help?” Rowan leans forward, resting his elbows on the counter. “You’ve got this handled. We’re just here for moral support.”
Ronan’s grin turns wicked. “And for the show.”
Heat creeps up my neck despite myself. I turn back to the stove, stirring the eggs a little too quickly. “You’re impossible.”
“That’s one word for it,” Ronan says, his tone dipping lower. “You’d look even better doing this with a belly, you know.”
The spatula stills in my hand. I blink, half turning toward him. “A belly?”
His smirk deepens, unbothered. “Yeah. Barefoot, messy hair, feeding us breakfast while you grow something that’s ours.”
Rowan groans, head in his hand, chuckling. “You really went there, didn’t you?”
Ronan just shrugs, unrepentant. “What? Tell me I’m wrong.”