Chapter 53
JAYDEN
It’s near sunset when we reach the Hollywood sign. Finley can’t stop snapping photos. She’s so enamored with our surroundings, she’s glowing.
Making her happy feels like the world is finally doing what it’s supposed to.
“Say cheese, boys!” she croons, spinning her phone on us. I tuck my DSLR back into its pouch—battery’s on its last gasp after a hike’s worth of shots of her and Elijah.
“Come on, Elijah, don’t make me beg,” Finley whines, and I have to bite my tongue not to tell her how perfect she is when she begs.
“You get one photo,” he says, stepping closer to me.
“Okay, but at least look like you’re not strangers.” She slides in, wraps my arm over Eli’s shoulders, then guides his around my waist.
Even staged, the contact lights my pulse like brushfire.
“Better,” she declares, snapping a quick shot before skipping back.
To my surprise, Eli doesn’t peel away like usual. Before the spell breaks, I draw Finley into us. He slides his arm over her collarbones; I fish out the camera again and rattle off a run of selfies, shifting angles until we’ve got something usable.
“Can you take one on my phone, too?” she asks.
“What happened to one photo?” Eli mutters, fidgeting like a kid with ants in his pants.
“Just smile, Bombshell,” Finley giggles. The result is chaos—two goofy grins and one mock glare. Us.
Before handing her phone back, I shoot the pic to mine and Eli’s. “Next time you consider being a grumpy asshole, look at that.”
“You have no boundaries,” he says, checking his screen. The corners of his mouth betray him anyway.
“Aww, Hotshot…” Finley tucks into my side and lifts her phone. “I love it.”
“Here.” Eli leans in, palm wrapping her hand where she holds the phone. His head blocks whatever he’s doing. “There you go, sweet girl.”
When he steps back, she squeals. Our trio is now her lock screen. “Oh my God, it’s the best. Thanks, guys.”
Eli glances at me over her head, lashes low, a faint grin tugging color into his cheeks. Too handsome for his own good, especially when he’s loosened up like this. He breathes deep, looks back at Finley as she blows him a kiss.
I’m so far gone on the two of them that they’ve become my compass. If they’re smiling, my world is right-side-up. With the sun gilding everything in sepia—Finley swinging his hand like they’re light as air—I’m living my best life.
Like this, it’s hard to believe I can’t be in love with the two of them.
It’s plausible that we could be lovers.
We could be soulmates.
We could be perfect together.
“Okay, Hotshot?” Finley mouths, still clasping Eli’s hand as she tips her face to mine.
I band an arm around her waist, lift her onto her toes, and crush a kiss to her mouth. My hand molds to her jaw while I take everything she offers and her hand at my back twists in my sweater in a silent plea for more.
Swirling my tongue with hers one last time, I pull back a tad, catching her lip between my teeth with just enough bite that she whimpers.
That sound. It sends an uncontrollable wave of heat through me that culminates at the base of my stomach with a tight clench of all my muscles. My cock jerks at the sensation, reminding me of how incredible it feels to be buried inside her.
As I pull back for air, my eyes flash open when Finley touches her forehead to my mouth, and I meet Eli’s intent stare. Dark, intent, heavy with longing. It yanks my heart like a ripcord; my pulse pounds so hard I can’t breathe.
The urge to pull him in is a physical ache that has me holding Finley tighter. Like our needs are one and the same, she gently tugs Eli closer.
Our eyes are still glued to each other’s stare when his front presses to her back.
With my arm sandwiched between his abs and the soft curve of her ass, I pull her impossibly flush to me at the same time as I step closer, fitting a foot between hers while the other plants itself on the other side of his.
Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink it.
Is all I keep chanting to myself when Finley’s head falls back onto Eli’s chest. Her lips graze my jaw as she nuzzles her temple to his lips with a wistful sigh when I drag my gaze from his and to hers. My pulse blazes when I feel his white knuckled grip of her sweater at the top of my thigh.
Finley’s hand traces up my back, her nails raking over each rung of my spine in sync with her heaving chest. Every one of her short gasping breaths pulls my lips to hers.
Peppering kisses along my mouth, she trails a heated path to my ear as her hand hooks into the curve of my shoulder, pulling me down to her.
“Take what you want, Jayden,” she says, squeezing my nape.
Her fingers knead at my muscle while I try to catch my breath in vain. There are too many feelings, too many currents to sort through; the now with her, the ache for him, the possibility hanging between us like a live wire.
Dragging my lip into my mouth, I suck on it like it might alleviate some of the suffocating yearning to taste and possess because…
I can’t take what’s his to give.
Because while I’m comfortable in my skin and at peace with who I am, he needs the chance to find that for himself. Pushing Eli into something he’s not ready for wouldn’t be fair to him, Finley, or me.
So even though the restraint is killing me, I pour every want, every need, the thick ache he stirs in my chest into Finley. I kiss her until there’s nothing left but warmth and steadiness. Until the hunger I can answer eases the thirst I can’t.
Even with his stare on us.
Even with his hand twisting her sweater at my thigh, even with his chest pressed hard to her back, heat searing into my arm around her.
I relish the ferocity of his desire coursing from him to me to her, and in every possible way it can wrap itself around us. Binding and creeping its hold on each of our chests.
As much as we can try to fight it, this longing goes beyond the measures of our control. It can’t be contained or hidden away. It’s etched in the marrow of our bones now. A need, as basic as breath.
Something we won’t survive without.
A quiet weight hangs between us while we walk around Grand Central Market. Live music night packs the place; the hum is electric. Last time I brought Eli here, he looked around like someone had cracked a window in his head. I swore I’d bring him back.
After Finley and I discussed the things she wanted to do now that she can explore the world, a festival was at the top of her list. Since I can remember, I’ve always loved music.
My parents took me and my sisters to all the family festivals from a young age.
It seems wrong that Eli and Finley never got those cultural experiences.
This isn’t a festival, but the indie-folk covers are tight, the chaos is contained, and the Middle Eastern truck by the stage slings the best dinner in Downtown LA.
The loaded air never shifts, but it grows comfortable. An invisible tether that’s steady and strong.
“So…” I say, sitting back into my seat as the band plays indie folk covers and we wait for our food buzzer to let us know our dinner is ready to be picked up. “This guy likes aggressive ear drum throttling noise, what about you, Lucky? What music do you like?”
Finley bursts out laughing, voice still a little raspy. The gravel shivers straight through me.
Between her and Eli, I’m doomed.
“Aggressive eardrum-throttling noise?” she snorts. Eli rolls his eyes, hair tumbling as he crosses his arms and tries to glare. The chuckle ruins it.
“It blocks out all the noise,” he sighs. “Especially when Mr. Talks-a-Lot is riding with me.”
Her laugh deepens with another snort, and my chest does all manner of crazy gymnastics. Then that joy-dazed look from last night lands on me, the one I promised I’d put on her face every damn day, and I can’t not kiss her.
I’m mid-maul when the buzzer rattles.
As I pull away to go grab our food, Eli stops me, giving my shoulder a hard squeeze with a tip of his chin that says stay.
Maybe I’m reading too much into it, but a flicker of hope sparks in my chest.
Cradling Finley’s face, I nudge her nose with mine, strumming my pout along hers.
“He wants this, too, Jayden,” she whispers into my parted mouth. “I feel it, you know?”
I eat up the words from her lips, nipping at them while my thumbs stroke along the warm apples of her cheeks.
“It’s pulsing, you know, right here,” Finley rasps, dragging my hand down her neck to the swell of her tits where her heart is thumping wildly. Pressing it harder into her supple curves, she inches it down to her belly. “And here… it’s fluttering like crazy.”
The heat of her words winds through me, and speech becomes a lost art. There isn’t an argument anyway. It’s true. I feel it too.
Much like the ache of longing, the promise hums in every cell. Like the warmth of the sun in winter, it permeates through me with a thrill I can’t subdue.
“Oh,” Finley murmurs as we break for air. “I like the music you play at the gym. I also loved the songs we danced to at the bar.” Her lips pucker with a bashful twist before she sighs, “And I really like this one too.”
“I’m sensing what you like is what’s happening while the music plays.”
“How perceptive…” Finley eats up my chuckle with a playful nip of my lip. “Every time I hear those songs, I’ll remember these moments. Doesn’t matter where I am… I’ll feel the way I felt during them.”
“Hot and bothered?” I tease, dragging my chair closer so we’re still touching when I lean back—thigh to thigh, arm to arm, sneakers bumping. “Basically, you’re saying you, beautiful creature, are a horn-dog.”
Color blooms from her cheeks down her throat as a giggle shakes her. “Jayden Morrow,” she sing-songs, twining our fingers on the table. “I am what you make of me.”
“If that’s so,” I say, kissing her temple as Eli returns with a broad wooden platter loaded in both hands, “I want to make you happy, Finley-James.”
“You already do.” Tilting her head to the side, she glances up at me.
Her expression is pulled into a serious pout before she adds, “Not just me, either. I might make Elijah smile, but happiness goes deeper than that. Happiness is having the possibility of being who you are without fear of judgement. It’s not just me you give that to, is it? ”
She pauses as Eli sets the tray down and talks us through each dish, leaving my heart blown wide-open by her words. I’m choking on all my feelings, incapable of forming any coherent thought or stringing a sentence together while he makes Finley a falafel wrap and then one for me.
Fuck, I’m done for.
I’m a total goner.
And fuck me, I love it.