Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Halsey
I’m cradled in Santos’s arms, his warmth comforting, but I can’t stop shivering.
Every time Dustin’s lips graze my skin, brushing so softly over my pussy as he cleans me, I feel a ripple of need stir inside me, even though I’m completely spent.
My body wants more, even though I can barely keep my eyes open.
I’m on the edge of falling asleep, but I don’t want to—not yet.
Who knew these men could tire me out so much, and it’s only been the first couple of days.
Dustin’s fingers linger as he wipes me down, and I shiver again, trying to focus on Santos’s steady breath as he cradles me close. His lips press against my temple.
“Thank you,” Santos whispers, his voice soft but full of emotion. “You’ve been so good to me . . . to both of us. Thank you for coming back.” His words wash over me, full of meaning, and I feel something stir deep inside as I sink deeper into his hold.
I didn’t think it would feel like this. When Dustin told me what they would do, how they would take me, I wasn’t sure.
There’s so much we still need to fix, so much between us that’s broken.
But when he ordered me to keep my panties off and wear a skirt earlier today, something inside me wanted to obey.
I was needy, desperate to feel something between us again.
Maybe I was hoping for more—hoping to ride one of them before the night was over—but I can wait.
The warmth of their bodies surrounding me should be enough for now, but it isn’t.
My thighs still ache where Dustin kissed them, and the way his fingers moved inside me lingers in every part of me.
The urge to feel them again presses down on me, but I can’t bring myself to ask.
Not yet. My eyes flutter closed, and I give in, just for a moment, resting against Santos as Dustin pulls away, still feeling the heat of their touch all over me.
I stir slightly in Santos’s arms, his warmth enveloping me as we lay sprawled on the oversized sectional in the living room. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden hue through the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the tranquil lake outside.
The reflection of the water dances across the polished hardwood floors, giving the house a surreal, dreamlike quality. The modern design somehow manages to feel both open and intimate, as if the world outside is woven into the very fabric of this place.
A soft murmur catches my attention—voices drifting from the kitchen. I glance up, curious. Santos blinks slowly beside me, his eyelids heavy with contentment. “I wasn’t talking,” he murmurs, noticing my expression. “Must be Dustin.”
“Do you think everything’s okay?” I ask, sitting up gently, careful not to jostle his injured leg.
Santos stretches lazily, a soft groan escaping him, but he’s mindful of his movements. “Probably just him going over some thoughts or talking to Gavin. He’s always on the phone with him, trying to sort things out for us.”
From the kitchen, Dustin’s voice carries softly, but I can’t quite make out the words.
There’s a contemplative tone to his voice, though, as if he’s weighing every word.
I slide off the couch—the massive, comfortable sectional that practically doubles as a bed.
It easily accommodates Santos’s six-foot-something frame and mine, but I can’t help but think that if his leg wasn’t hurt, Dustin might’ve joined us.
The three of us, together, fitting perfectly.
“I’ll go check on him,” I say, wrapping a throw blanket around my shoulders as I stand.
Santos smiles sleepily, his eyes half-lidded. “I’ll join you in a minute.”
I shake my head, placing a gentle hand on his chest. “You shouldn’t. Remember your leg.”
He lets out a soft, resigned sigh. “I can’t keep resting forever, you know.”
“Doctor’s orders,” I tease, pointing at myself with a grin. “And since I’m the doctor, I get to boss you around.”
He chuckles, his eyes warm and affectionate. “Alright, alright. You win.”
Leaving him settled on the couch, I make my way across the open living space, the sleek lines of the furniture blending seamlessly with the natural beauty visible through the windows.
The house is breathtaking—minimalist yet cozy, modern but with that cabin-in-the-woods charm that makes you want to curl up in front of the fireplace and never leave.
The living room flows effortlessly into the kitchen, the absence of walls making the space feel even larger, the warmth of the setting sun spilling over everything.
As I step into the kitchen, I find Dustin leaning against the marble countertop, a steaming mug of coffee in his hand, one earbud in as he listens to something on his phone. He looks up when I enter, a gentle smile softening his features.
“Everything okay?” I ask, gesturing toward the earbud.
He nods and pulls it out, setting his phone aside. “Yeah, just finished talking to Gavin.”
“Anything important?” I move closer, curiosity tugging at me.
Dustin shrugs lightly, his gaze still thoughtful.
“I had him running some errands for us. But more importantly, we need to hire a cook. As much as I’d love to spoil you with my cooking, I’m barely qualified to boil water.
And our guy”—he gestures toward the living room with a playful smirk—“won’t be standing up to cook for a while. ”
I laugh softly, leaning against the counter next to him. “I know how to cook, you know.”
He steps closer, the space between us disappearing as his arms wrap around me, pulling me into his warmth.
His chest presses against mine, steady and reassuring, and for a moment, the world outside fades, leaving just the quiet closeness of this moment.
His hand slides up my back, fingertips grazing my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as he holds me tighter.
Then, he dips his head, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, the warmth of his breath teasing against my skin. His teeth graze my earlobe ever so lightly, and it’s enough to make my heart stutter, a sharp inhale escaping me.
“Sure,” he whispers, his voice low, rough in the way that makes me feel like we’re sharing a secret. “But you’re going to be working, remember? I don’t want you stressed about cooking for us all the time.”
His words hum against my ear, but it’s the closeness, the way his lips linger just a moment longer, that makes my skin tingle.
I can feel the tension in him, like he’s holding something back but wants to give in all at once.
And in the softness of this embrace, in the way his arms tighten around me just a little more, I realize how much he wants to take care of me, in ways that go far beyond cooking or daily routines.
“I don’t start until next week,” I remind him, arching an eyebrow.
“True,” he concedes, his voice softening, “but I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of everything. Let me pamper you for once.”
I raise my eyebrow playfully. “Pamper me? By hiring someone else to cook?”
His grin widens. “Yep, exactly. Pampering where you get to be the queen, and we serve you however we can.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at him. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble. I honestly don’t mind cooking. And if not, there’s always takeout.”
Dustin shakes his head, still smiling. “Not here. No takeout in this part of the world, Hals. Only a diner down the road and a couple of restaurants at the Merkel Hotel in Baker’s Creek.”
“Well,” I tease, “maybe I’ll just have to teach you how to cook.”
He laughs softly, but then his expression shifts to something more sincere as he reaches out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “I just want to make sure you’re taken care of.”
A warmth spreads through me at his words, and I find myself softening, leaning into the moment. “I appreciate that,” I murmur, “but you don’t have to go through so much trouble. I’m fine. I promise.”
“It’s no trouble,” he insists, his eyes searching mine as if trying to convince me. “Besides, it gives Santos and me peace of mind knowing you’re not overworking yourself. You’re taking care of both of us. Let us take care of you, too.”
I roll my eyes playfully, pretending to sigh in defeat, as if to say, fine, you win. Then, I glance back toward the living room, where Santos is resting on the couch. “Speaking of him, he’s probably wondering where we went.”
Dustin chuckles, the sound low and easy, the kind that makes the room feel just a little warmer. “Yeah, we shouldn’t leave him hanging for too long. I’ve already set up the downstairs guest room for him. It’s all ready.”
I smile, a sense of relief washing over me at his thoughtfulness. It’s one less thing to worry about. “Good. The less he walks, the better.”
Dustin leans back, his gaze flicking between me and the living room, as if weighing everything in his mind, but there’s a quiet confidence in his eyes. “He’ll be alright. We’re going to make this work. You, me, him . . . this place. It’s all going to come together.”
I pause for a moment, absorbing what he just said. He’s so sure of it, as if he’s already imagined how things will fall into place. And I want to believe it too.
“Yeah, it will,” I say with conviction.
Dustin nods. “I made some tea, too, in case you’d prefer that over coffee. And there are some pastries Gavin brought earlier.”
I let out a soft laugh, grateful for the gentle shift in conversation. “Always thinking ahead,” I tease lightly. Then, realizing the time, I tilt my head curiously. “What are we doing for dinner?”
He flashes a grin, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “Merkel Hotels is delivering something later. The chef is actually coming to prepare the food here so it’s fresh.”
My eyes widen in surprise. “The chef is coming here? That’s . . . quite the arrangement.”
He shrugs casually, though there’s a proud glint in his eye. “Only the best for us. Besides, with Santos out of commission and my lack of culinary skills, it’s the least I can do.”
“See? You’re already taking care of us,” I point out, a warm affection threading through my words.
He laughs softly, a sound that resonates deep within me. “Maybe I’m good at this.”
“Maybe you are,” I agree, feeling a lightness that hasn’t been there in a long time.
We begin to gather the mugs and plates, our movements naturally synchronized as if we’ve done this a hundred times before.
As I reach for a plate, our fingers brush lightly, sending a subtle spark up my arm.
I glance up to find him watching me, a gentle expression on his face that makes my heart skip a beat.
Clearing my throat, I pick up the plates. “We should get back to Santos,” I say softly. “He might be wondering what’s taking so long.”
Dustin nods, his gaze lingering on me for a moment before he turns to pick up the mugs. “Yeah, we should get back to him.”
As we make our way back to the living room, a comfortable silence settles between us.
Pausing at the threshold of the living room, I take in the sight of Santos adjusting himself on the couch, propping pillows behind his back. He looks up as we enter, a smile spreading across his face that reaches his eyes.
“Look who I found,” I announce with a playful lilt, stepping into the room.
Santos chuckles, his gaze shifting between us. “Thought you two might’ve gotten lost,” he teases gently.
“Just making sure everything’s set for dinner,” Dustin replies, setting the mugs down on the coffee table.
I move to Santos’s side, handing him a plate with one of the pastries. “Here, Gavin brought these earlier. Thought you might like one.”
He accepts it with a grateful nod. “Thanks. Smells delicious.”
As we all settle in, the atmosphere feels lighter, more connected. The hurt seems to fade into the background, replaced by hope.
Dustin sits across from us, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “So, after dinner, maybe we could all watch something together? Like old times,” he suggests, his tone casual but his eyes searching.
I glance at Santos, who meets my gaze with a subtle nod. “I’d like that,” I say softly. “It’s been a while since we’ve all just relaxed together.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Santos agrees, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
A comfortable silence settles over us, the only sounds are the gentle ticking of the clock and the distant hum of the city beyond the lake. I take a sip of my tea, letting the warmth seep through me.
As the evening unfolds, I can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude. For this moment, for the chance to rebuild what was broken, for the possibility of healing. The road ahead is uncertain, but sitting here with them, it feels like maybe—just maybe—we can navigate it together.
I take a deep breath, savoring the tranquil ambiance. “I’m really glad we’re doing this,” I say softly, more to myself than to them.
Dustin looks up, his eyes meeting mine with a gentle intensity. “Me too,” he replies earnestly.
Santos reaches over, his fingers brushing lightly against mine in a subtle gesture of solidarity. “We’re in this together,” he adds, his voice carrying a quiet conviction.
A soft smile spreads across my face as I look between them. “Yes, we are.”
The sun dips lower on the horizon, casting a warm glow that bathes the room in soft light. In this serene bubble, surrounded by their presence, I feel a flicker of hope ignite within me. Whatever challenges await us, I know we can face them—together.