Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Sloane
“Girl, you look good,” Riley coos over the phone, though I don’t know how much she can actually see of me over the video call. “You look like a woman on a mission.”
“Well, I got my hair done in town, and I bought a new dress. Something to make me feel a little less chaotic.”
I give myself a once-over in the reflection of my phone, but I’m not sure the dress is really helping with the chaotic part of my day. Maybe the hair? It’s sleek and shiny, and I almost feel like I could be a real grown-up who’s got it all together.
But underneath all that, my stomach is still doing somersaults thinking about what happened with the guys.
Ever since they talked to me, I haven’t been myself. I mean, how can I be? How can I choose one? How can I choose none?
Urgh, it’s a mess. Not what I came to this town for.
“Less chaotic, huh?” Riley chuckles. “How is the chaotic life? The dream come true, if you ask me?”
I glance down at the deep green velvet fabric of the dress again. The way it hugs my waist and flares out just enough gives me a nice shape. I look good—better than I feel.
“Well, I still feel chaotic. That isn’t going anywhere.”
“What’s happened? Did you start dating them all?”
I take a deep breath and swipe my hand through my hair. “No, I haven’t done anything yet.”
Riley’s eyes widen on the screen. I can almost hear her holding her breath. “Why not? Are you mad? Three hotties wanting you, and…”
Riley’s still talking when my brain completely short-circuits.
Because standing in the living room, staring at me, are the men. Holding what seems to be… flowers? And chocolates? And, oh my, is that a fern?
“Sloane? You there?” Riley cuts in. “You look like you just saw a ghost. Or, you know, three really attractive ones.”
I blink rapidly, trying to form words. “Uh… yeah. No. Not ghosts. Just, uh, gotta go, okay? There’s… a situation.”
Riley’s eyebrows lift. “A situation? Like what kind of—”
“Bye!” I squeak, stabbing the screen so hard my phone almost flies out of my hand.
The call ends, and I just… stand there.
Three sets of eyes on me. Three men, shifting awkwardly, not sure whether to smile or flee.
Roman’s the first to speak. “Hey, Sloane. You look smoking hot!”
“Hi,” I say faintly, clutching my phone tightly. “Did I miss a memo about… surprise interventions? Or are we doing some grand gesture thing now?”
Ezra clears his throat. “We, uh, wanted to talk.”
Creed lifts the bouquet. Roses, sunflowers, possibly weeds. “And give you these.”
Roman lifts his box of chocolates with a grin. “And these.”
Ezra awkwardly holds up the fern. “And… photosynthesis?”
“For… what exactly?” I can’t hide the shaking nerves. “This is all… a lot.”
Ezra sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “We wanted to talk about… us. But not in the ‘you need to choose one of us’ way.”
“In the way ‘you get all of us,’” Roman jumps in. “Lucky you.”
A flash of heat burns in my cheeks. “What are you talking about?”
Creed crosses his arms, sighing. “You’re making it sound like a group project, Ezra.”
Roman gestures dramatically. “It is a group project. Of love.”
I stare at him. “Did you just say a group project of love?”
Ezra groans. “This is going well.”
“Define well,” I deadpan, because my brain is doing that thing where it can’t decide between laughter and a stress nap.
Creed, ever the stoic one, says, “We just wanted to be honest. None of us wants to compete. We care about you, Sloane. In different ways. And if you want to explore that, together, then we’re open to it.”
I blink at him, then at Ezra, then at Roman. “Open to it. Like… an open relationship?”
Roman smirks. “More like a… closed circle. Just us.”
“Oh my,” I whisper. “You’re serious.”
Ezra nods earnestly. “Dead serious. But it doesn’t have to be weird.”
I gesture between them. “Too late for that, Ezra. The fern alone made it weird.”
Roman looks at the plant and frowns. “Hey, the fern adds charm.”
“Flora to a polyamory proposal?” I say flatly. “That’s not charm. That’s ridiculous.”
Creed’s lips twitch, fighting a smile. “So, what you’re saying is… you’re not immediately rejecting us?”
I’m not.
Not at all.
I step in, closing the distance between myself and the men, closest to Ezra, and his breath catches. Quiet but sharp enough to spark through me. Then he leans in, and when his lips find mine, the world falls away.
I melt into him, into the warmth of his chest and the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palms. When we part, his hand stays at my waist, thumb tracing lazy circles against my skin, because he’s not ready to let go.
Before I can catch my breath, another warmth presses close. Roman.
He waits, eyes locked on mine, until I give him the slightest nod.
Then he’s kissing me too. His lips are firmer, hungrier, tasting of heat and confidence, but there’s something special in the way he touches me. Like he wants me, yes, but he’s careful not to take too much.
When he pulls back, his thumb brushes my cheek, and I feel everything he isn’t saying, every word he’s too afraid to ruin the moment with.
And then there’s Creed.
He steps forward, that wicked grin curving his mouth, eyes darker than I’ve ever seen them.
“My turn,” he murmurs.
His kiss hits as a spark to dry kindling. Wild, rough around the edges, and impossibly real.
He tastes of heat and something I can’t name, something that feels dangerously close to home. When he nips at my bottom lip, I let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-gasp, and his hand slides up my spine, steadying me as everything inside me turns molten.
My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears. I take a step back, breath coming quick, and reach for the hem of my dress. The room feels thick with anticipation, every pair of eyes on me as I pull it over my head and let it fall.
No one moves to stop me.
No one rushes in either.
They just watch.
And in this quiet, heated moment, I’ve never felt more wanted, or more alive.
Creed’s smile fades, a shadow darkening his gaze. Roman’s throat works as he swallows, his eyes roaming over me as if I’m something sacred, untouchable. Ezra’s hands flex at his sides, a tremor of restraint running through him. But he doesn’t reach.
We move as if gravity is guiding us, drawn together in slow, inevitable steps, clothes falling from them as we move. There’s no rush. Just heat and hesitation tangled together.
The fluffy rug is soft beneath us, the world outside fading into nothing.
Ezra’s touch is gentle. He traces the edge of my jaw with his thumb before dipping to the hollow of my throat, dragging the pad of his finger down within me.
Roman lingers close, his breath ghosting over my skin, his fingertips brushing against me in soft, questioning patterns. Every touch is a conversation, hesitant, tender, and seeking.
He looks at me as if waiting for permission, and all I can do is nod, a tremor of laughter breaking through the tension.
His mouth finds my collarbone while his fingers play at the waistband of my panties, not tugging, just teasing and testing the edges, asking in his own way if this is still okay.
I lift my hips in answer, and Roman helps me slide them off. He pauses to kiss the inside of my knee, then higher, the barest brush of his lips making my breath hitch. I let out a shaky laugh, nerves and heat tangling inside me.
Creed bends down nearby, his eyes flicking between us mischievously. “You look absolutely stunning.”
He moves closer, bracing himself above me, that familiar grin tugging at his mouth as he dips down, not to kiss my mouth, but to gently trail his tongue along the curve of my ribs, teasing the sensitive skin beneath my bra.
Ezra stays beside me, one hand threading through my hair, the other resting over my heart like he can feel it racing beneath his palm.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“I’m good,” I whisper back, a laugh catching in my throat. “Better than good.”
Roman’s chuckle rumbles through the quiet, low and dark. “We’ll make sure of it.”
The three of them move around me as a tide, each touch intense, every glance carrying a question. It’s a dance, one made of trust and heat and something dangerously close to love.
Every breath I take says yes, every heartbeat pulling me deeper into them, into this moment that feels as infinite as it does fleeting.
When Creed finally presses his mouth between my thighs, I cry out, hips jerking, fingers tangling in his hair as he teases just enough to make me squirm before easing back.
“Tease,” I hissed, breathless.
“Damn right,” Creed murmurs, eyes flashing up at me, rough with something that makes my breath catch. “You taste like heaven.”
Roman pulls me into his lap, my back pressed to his chest, his arms circling me as an anchor. Ezra leans in close, his lips brushing mine, and suddenly I’m caught between all three of them, suspended in something that feels too good.
And somehow, it isn’t frantic. It isn’t crazy.
It’s warmth. Laughter. Playfulness is woven into every heartbeat.
Creed grins, eyes dark with mischief. “I think we should take her to bed now.”
Roman laughs. “You just want more room.”
“And pillows,” Ezra adds, smiling as he trails behind.
I’m not sure how I stay upright on the way to the bedroom. Maybe it’s adrenaline, or the powerful press of their hands on my skin, keeping me grounded, keeping me from falling apart. Every touch is a spark, and by the time Roman lowers me onto the bed, my whole body is alive with it.
The door clicks shut. My pulse is loud in my ears.
For a heartbeat, they just stand there, watching me. Waiting. Like they need to memorize me before they move. Their gazes steal my breath; I feel both treasured and undone beneath it.
Then, slowly, they close in.
Roman’s touch is careful, his hands cupping my face like I’m something worth worshipping.