Chapter 9 #2
Logan’s fingers glide around the base of the plug, pulling, turning, pressing. Nerve endings spark awake beneath his touch. The pressure builds gradually, matched by Asher’s relentless attention at my front. Every flick of his tongue seems to steady me, to say stay here, stay with us.
Asher’s mouth pulls a sharp cry from me then, and the combined sensation folds inward, drawing everything to a concentrated, pulsing center. The world seems to pause.
For a few heartbeats, I can do nothing but feel and just lie there as wave after wave of sensations crash over me and pour into my heart and soul.
The rush recedes slowly, leaving warmth in its wake. My limbs feel heavy. I’m boneless. The tight grip I've kept on myself for years has loosened somewhere along the way, and I don't have the strength to gather it back up.
A hand smooths through my hair. Another settles against my side. Neither man says anything. They don't need to. I lie there listening to the sound of their breathing, feeling the quiet weight of their presence around me.
As I cuddle between them, I feel safe.
Wanted.
Cherished.
The realization arrives so gently I almost miss it. It's not the sex or the attention. It's not even the way they make me feel. It's Logan remembering whether I've eaten, and Asher noticing when I'm struggling before I say a word.
It's the way they look at me as though I'm something precious instead of something broken.
My throat tightens.
Oh.
I close my eyes.
Somewhere between the farm and the diner and late-night conversations and all the small moments in between, this became something more.
I love them.
The certainty settles deep inside me.
Not one of them.
Both.
And that should terrify me.
Instead, I find myself smiling.
Logan
Josie looks wrecked in the best possible way.
She’s always beautiful. I knew that the first afternoon she stood in that barn with dust in her hair and stubbornness in her eyes. A night of passion with us has made her emit a soft glow that no makeup can achieve. Her lips are a deep pink and still slightly swollen.
My body reacts immediately.
We’re supposed to be going into town. Being seen. Letting people get used to the idea of her between us.
But every part of me wants to lock the bedroom door and erase the morning schedule. Every testosterone-filled cell in my body wants to drag her into bed and replace the plug with my cock.
"Have you seen my panties?" She glances around the room.
"Yes." Asher doesn’t look up from buttoning his shirt, nor does he elaborate.
She faces him and braces her hands on her hips. "Where?"
"They are in my pocket."
"Why?"
"I want them."
"You... want... them?" She says it like she’s trying to decide if he’s joking and sounds adorably unsure.
"Yup.”
She blinks. “And what exactly am I supposed to wear?”
I step in behind her before she can gather steam. Slide my arms around her waist. Rest my chin on her shoulder and breathe her in. She still smells faintly like our shower gel and something warm and female.
“You don’t need them,” I murmur against her skin.
She stiffens a fraction, then turns her head just enough to look at me from the corner of her eye.
“Of course I do.” There’s more indignation than real protest in her voice.
I let my hands settle at her hips. “We want you to go commando.”
She shifts in my arms, testing how it feels to stand there knowing what she isn’t wearing.
The smallest crease forms between her brows.
I watch the moment her mind catches up to the implication.
“Every time you move, and you feel the seam from your jeans against your labia, it’s a reminder where we've been.”
"Are you serious?" She stiffens before half-turning in my arms.
"Yep."
"And what about the plug?"
I suppress a grin. "It stays."
I can only see one eye, but it widens comically. "All day?"
"All day," I confirm.
"But what if I need the restroom?"
"Asher or I will take it out, clean it, and when you're done, bend you over the sink and put it back."
“That’s so…” She splutters to a halt.
“Depraved?”
“I was thinking perverted, but depraved works.”
I squeeze her butt. "Nothing that happens between the three of us is perverted. It's just us.”
Asher steps in front of her, his hand sliding up her arm until his fingers curl lightly at her shoulder.
“It’s lovemaking,” he corrects softly. “There’s a difference.”
She looks between us with a little frown between her eyebrows.
“And you want to walk into town like this?” she asks quietly.
“We do,” I say, and I mean it.
I've wanted women before.
Wanted their bodies. Their laughter. Their company.
But I've never lain awake wondering if someone remembered to eat lunch. Never caught myself grinning because a rescue shelter got approved for a grant. Never looked at a piece of land and imagined a woman standing in the middle of it ten years from now.
The realization hits hard enough to steal my breath.
I’m in love with Josie Hart.
Her throat moves as she swallows.
The hesitation melts into something else. Her spine straightens. Shoulders roll back. She doesn’t pull away from me. She leans into my hold instead.
A slow smile curves her mouth.
“Well.” She lifts her chin, “I suppose if I’m going to scandalize Iron Ridge, I might as well do it properly.”
Asher’s laugh is low and pleased. I press one last kiss just below her ear.
Testosterone may be screaming at me to drag her back to bed.
But pride wins.
We don’t hide her.
We walk out the front door with her between us.