Chapter 45
BLAKE
Reid's got her on her back. One hand braced beside her head, the other gripping her hip hard enough that I can see the press of his fingers into her skin. Laine's legs are wrapped around him and her back arches every time he drives forward.
The sounds she's making aren't for show. They're involuntary. Desperate little gasps pulled out of her with every thrust, and each one goes straight to my cock.
I'm propped up on my elbow. Close enough to touch. Close enough to see the flush spreading down her chest, the way her mouth falls open, the way her fingers dig into Reid's shoulders like she needs something to hold onto.
My hand is on her thigh. Thumb moving against her skin. I don't remember deciding to do that. She shivers and I feel it under my palm.
Reid changes his angle — pulls her hips up, drives deeper — and Laine's whole body reacts. Her head presses back into the pillow and the sound that comes out of her is raw. Not a moan. Something more animal than that.
Christ.
I'm so hard it hurts.
Maybe this should be weird. I'm watching my best friend fuck the woman I love. But it's so much more than that. So much bigger. I'm watching the two people I love most in the world and it feels just fucking right.
Reid's jaw is clenched. He's close and fighting it. Stubborn bastard — even now he's focused on her. Making sure she gets there first. That's Reid. Always has been.
I slide my hand higher on her thigh. Grip. She's slick with sweat and her skin is so hot under my fingers and I want —
I want to be inside her so badly I can't think straight.
Wait your turn, Moore.
Laine's hand leaves Reid's shoulder. Reaches out beside her — searching, grasping at the sheet, at air — and her head turns.
She finds me.
And — fuck.
She's wrecked. Completely. Flushed and shaking and getting fucked and she's looking at me. Not glazed over. Not far away. Right here. Locked onto my face like I'm the thing keeping her in her body.
Her fingers find mine. Lace through. Grip hard enough to grind my knuckles together.
I squeeze back.
"Blake." My name comes out broken. Split apart by Reid's rhythm. She's not asking for anything. She's just — confirming. That I'm here. That I'm real.
I'm her anchor right now.
"I'm here." I lean in. Press my mouth to her temple. She's damp and hot and I can feel her pulse hammering under her skin. "I've got you."
Reid shifts his grip. Hooks under her knee, opens her wider, and she moans against my jaw and I feel it vibrate through my bones.
"Look at me." I don't know where that comes from.
She does. Her eyes are dark, blown wide, and Reid is buried in her and her hand is crushing mine and I —
I watch her come.
Her eyes stay on mine. The whole time. I see the exact moment it hits — her grip spasms, her whole body goes rigid, and then she's shaking apart. Gasping. Saying something that might be my name.
She doesn't look away. Neither do I.
There. That. The way she looked at me while she fell apart. Like I was the safe place. Like she was falling into me.
Nobody's ever —
Yeah.
Reid groans. Low, guttural. His rhythm breaks and he buries himself in her one last time, forehead dropping to her shoulder. Done. Shaking.
For a second I feel like I don't belong. Like I'm trying to put myself in the middle of their moment. I've barely started to move away when Reid's hand finds the back of my neck. Brief. Firm.
Good. We're good. Stay.
I stay.
For a minute nobody moves. Just breathing. Laine's fingers still threaded through mine, still trembling. Reid's face pressed into her neck. The three of us tangled together.
Reid lifts his head. Looks at me over her shoulder. Hair wrecked. Face flushed. Grinning like a goddamn idiot.
There he is.
He kisses Laine's collarbone, pulls out slowly — she makes a low, soft sound that hits me right in the chest — and collapses onto his back.
"Holy shit," he breathes.
Laine laughs. Weak. Spent. "Yeah."
"No, like — holy shit."
"Eloquent," I mutter.
"Shut up. You try forming sentences after that."
Laine turns toward me. Her hand hasn't left mine. Her face is soft, open, satisfied, and she's looking at me like —
Like it's simple. Like I'm next and that's just how this works.
"Hey," she says.
"Hey, Beautiful."
She smiles, and it's all Laine. But there's an edge to it. Hunger rising. "I want more."
Yes-fucking-ma'am.
Reid shifts, making room. His hand claps my shoulder as we pass each other. "Don't overthink it," he says. Low. Just for me.
Right. Don't overthink it. Because I'm too fucking good at that. And tonight, I'm not going to let anything ruin this.
I settle over her. Weight on my forearms. She's so warm. Everywhere we're touching is slick skin and heat and I can feel her heartbeat against my chest.
Her legs open and I —
The trust in that. She just opens. No hesitation. Like letting me in is the easiest decision she's ever made.
I've been inside her before. This shouldn't feel like the first time.
It does.
Reid's beside us now. His hand on Laine's hip. His other hand pushing the hair back from her face. She turns and kisses his palm and I watch her love him while she's waiting for me and —
I reach down. Align myself. She's swollen and slick and warm and when I press forward — just barely — her breath catches.
"Blake." Deeper. Needier.
I push in.
Slow.
Everything goes white.
Fuck.
The heat. The tightness. The way she pulls me in like she wants all of it. Every inch.
I drop my forehead to hers. I can't look at her. Not yet. If I see her face right now it's done.
This should be weird too. We're not using condoms. The warmth and wetness is a mix of Reid and her.
But it's not weird. It's so fucking hot. It's like we're marking her. She's just ours, and soon, she'll be carrying both of us with her.
I'm so fucking close to blowing, just from the idea of it.
"Give me a second." I barely recognize my own voice. "I need a second or this is going to be embarrassing."
She laughs and the movement shifts around me and I lock my jaw so hard my teeth creak.
"Take your time," she whispers. Her hips move. Just barely. Just enough.
She knows exactly what she's doing.
"Laine."
"Hmm?"
"Stop moving or I swear to God —"
Reid snorts. "Told you. Impatient."
"Not helping."
I breathe. Press my forehead harder against hers. Just — exist inside this moment. Inside her.
You're here. She wants you here.
"Okay." I start to move.
Slow. Long strokes. Pulling almost all the way out, pressing back in, and she gasps every time I fill her.
Her nails dig into my shoulders and her thighs tighten around my hips and I'm cataloging all of it.
Not thinking about it. Just — absorbing.
The way she reacts when I go deep. The hitch in her breathing when I grind against her at the bottom of a stroke.
What makes her grip tighten. What makes her moan.
"Faster," she breathes.
"Not yet."
"Blake —"
"Not yet." I kiss her. Slow. Matching the pace. I don't want to rush this. I want every goddamn second of it.
Her eyes open. Find mine.
Yeah. Keep looking at me like that. Don't stop.
Reid's hand finds her breast. His thumb rolls across her nipple and her back arches and the angle changes and she clenches around me and —
"Fuck." I bury my face in her neck. Breathe. Try to hold on.
I can't go slow anymore. My body takes over — faster, harder, deeper — and she's moving with me, meeting every thrust, and the sounds filling this room — skin and breath and her voice saying yes and right there and don't stop —
"Blake —" She's shaking. "I'm close. I —"
"I know." I can feel it. She's tightening around me, fluttering. "Me too."
Reid's hand slides between us. Lower. His fingers find her clit and his knuckles brush against where I'm inside her and —
It's Reid. It's fine. Not the weirdest thing that's happened between us. Kinda feels nice actually, not that I'll ever tell him that.
His fingers circle. Press.
Laine breaks.
She cries out — my name, I think — and her body clamps down around me and it hits me everywhere. My spine. My chest. Behind my eyes.
I bury myself in her and let go.
Something inside me — something old and rusted shut, something I've been carrying so long I forgot it wasn't part of me —
Opens. Like a joint I've been working for months. Frozen under years of paint and grime and neglect. And I finally — finally — feel it give.
I shake apart inside her. Empty out. And the voice — the one that's been telling me that I don't get to have this, that I poison everything I touch —
It doesn't disappear. But it goes quiet.
For the first time in so long I can't even measure it, that voice shuts the fuck up.
I collapse. Half on her, half beside her. Face in her neck. Breathing hard. I'm shaking and I can't stop.
"You okay?" Soft. Her fingers in my hair.
"Yeah." Muffled. Wrecked.
Reid snorts. “You look a little dead.”
I should move. I'm heavy.
I don't move. But I do manage to give him the finger.
Her fingers run through my hair. Slow. Steady. Reid's hand settles on the back of my neck. Same place he used to grab when I'd jolt awake on deployment, reaching for my weapon in the dark.
You're good. Stand down.
Same hand. Same message. Different bed.
I press my lips to Laine's throat. Taste salt.
I love you.
The thought just — surfaces. No panic behind it. No asterisk. No but you don't deserve it chaser.
Just true.
When my legs stop shaking, I pull out carefully. She inhales — quiet, sharp — and I kiss her jaw. She climbs over me toward the bathroom and I lie there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faucet run.
When she comes back we rearrange. She settles between us. Where she fits.
Reid's hand finds mine across her stomach. His fingers tighten over mine. Squeeze once.
I squeeze back.
You good?
I'm good.
Then we let go.