Chapter 30
JADE
The sheets are still warm when Declan slips out of bed.
I roll into the space he left behind, burying my face in the pillow, inhaling the clean, masculine scent that still clings to the linen. My body aches in places I didn't know could ache, the kind of ache that's wanted.
I close my eyes for a moment and let the memory roll through me like the tide: the weight of him, the taste of his mouth, the way his hands gripped my hips like he never wanted to let go.
I don't know how long we slept. Maybe an hour. Maybe more. But the soft sounds coming from the kitchen, the clink of a pan, the hiss of something on the stove, draw me out of bed and into the pool house's open living area.
Declan is shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of loose black sweatpants that hang low on his hips.
He stands at the stove, flipping something in a pan with effortless competence, his back to me.
His tattoos are more muted in this light, shadows stretched across his skin.
The scars are more visible now too. I trace one with my eyes, just above his ribs, and wonder again who or what put it there.
He doesn't hear me approach. I just stand there, watching him.
This man, who once barely spoke more than three words in a row, had his mouth on every part of me last night. He was filthy and focused and relentless, and now he's making eggs like he's been doing it every morning.
"How do you want your eggs?" he asks without turning around.
I blink. "You knew I was here?"
His voice is low, rough. "I wouldn't be a good bodyguard if I didn't know."
I cross my arms, leaning against the counter. "Scrambled's fine."
He glances back at me, just once. Eyes sweeping over the shirt I borrowed from him and falling past my thighs, barely hiding the fact that I'm still not wearing anything underneath.
He doesn't say anything about it. Just smirks, adjusts himself, and turns back to the stove.
There's something easy about this. Something that should feel strange but doesn't. No awkwardness. No regret. Just... comfort. Like this was always going to happen. Like we've done it a hundred times before.
He plates the eggs and sets them on the counter just as the front door swings open.
Mateo steps inside, looking fresh and smug and completely unprepared for what he's about to walk into, until he sees us.
He stops.
His eyes go from me, in Declan's shirt, to Declan, barefoot and his hair still tousled from sleep. The eggs. The silence.
Then he grins.
"Well," he says, dropping his keys on the table. "Fucking finally."
The tension in my shoulders releases so suddenly I almost sag against the counter.
Declan's expression remains guarded, though I notice his stance relax marginally. And he reaches for another fork, starting to set a third place at the counter.
Mateo walks toward us, arms crossed, his tone teasing but his eyes sharp. "I thought I was going to have to start charging Declan rent for all that unresolved tension. You two have been dancing around each other for weeks."
Declan turns off the stove. His eyes meet mine, and I see something new there. Relief and happiness.
I open my mouth, not even sure what I'm about to say. Apologize? Explain?
"So... you're really okay with this?" I ask Mateo, still trying to believe how easy he's making it look.
Mateo just waves a hand.
"No speeches. You don't owe me anything. I knew from the start this was a four-person story. Just waiting for the rest of you to catch up."
I exhale. The tension I didn't even know I was holding releases all at once.
"Guess that just leaves Ethan, huh..." Mateo muses.
"Actually... it doesn't," I say quietly, watching both their reactions.
Declan just nods like he's receiving and accepting information. But of course, Mateo can't let this one slide.
"That old dog! Here I was thinking that stoic Ethan would be the last one to cave. Goes to show you, Ethan's all 'do as I say, not as I do.' Classic."
Then with his eyes softening just slightly, he steps forward, cups my jaw, and kisses me.
"Mi Reina," he whispers.
It's not a possessive kiss. Not a challenge. It's Mateo being Mateo. Open, warm, utterly confident in who he is and what we are.
When he pulls back, his golden eyes are dark with desire and a wicked grin makes his dimples appear. "If I weren't so busy, I'd take you right here on this counter just to make up for lost time."
Declan clears his throat behind us, and I turn to see him watching with a mixture of fascination and hunger.
Mateo leans in again, voice lower. "But what I want to do to you? That's going to take time."
Declan finally speaks. "Yeah... about 3 minutes," he says with a smirk.
Mateo barks a laugh. "That a challenge?"
"Not a challenge, just a time estimate. You'll be three minutes in before you're calling for backup."
Just like that, the moment shifts. No awkwardness. Just something lighter, easier, like we've always belonged in this room together.
We eat quickly, the kitchen filled with a strange new energy. Mateo regales us with stories about the security upgrades he was implementing, making Declan chuckle with his dramatic retelling of Gloria's reaction to the new camera system.
I laugh, feeling something unwind in my chest.
Too soon, Mateo glances at his watch and groans. "Duty calls. Some of us have actual work to do rather than just..." he waggles his eyebrows suggestively, "burning calories in other ways."
He kisses me again, briefly but with promise, then claps Declan on the shoulder as he heads for the door. "Don't have too much fun without me," he calls over his shoulder.
Then it's just Declan and me again.
His presence beside me so solid, reassuring, so different from the tense, distant man who had first walked into my life.
He reaches for my plate, brushing his fingers over mine in a casual touch that still makes my skin heat.
"I should go too," I say finally, reluctant to break the spell of the morning but aware of the day ahead. "Gloria will start wondering where I am."
Declan nods, brushing a strand of hair from my face with surprising gentleness. "Go. I'll finish here."
He catches my wrist before I turn away. Just long enough to pull me in for a soft, lazy kiss. No pressure. Just lips and breath and the taste of coffee between us.
Then he lets me go.
The water in my shower is hot and steady, and I press my palms against the tiles, eyes closed, letting it wash over me.
Everything about today has been surreal.
Declan and I. Mateo, walking in like it was the most obvious thing in the world. The three of us, laughing over eggs like we're not living inside some kind of emotional minefield.
And Ethan.
The way he held me. The way he let me go, not out of indifference, but because he understood that love doesn't mean possession. It means choice.
I brace my forehead against the tile, steam curling around me like fog.
This wasn't supposed to happen.
Not like this.
Not them.
But now, all I can think about is them. All of them. The way they orbit me. The way I orbit them. Different energies. Different needs. But no less real.
Three men.
Three very different kinds of love.
And every part of me wants all of it.
For the first time in years, I let myself imagine a future. One where I don't have to choose. One where I'm seen, protected, worshipped... and never less for wanting more.
One where I don't have to hide.
Where I don't have to be alone.
I smile to myself, the first real, unguarded smile in what feels like forever.
And I believe, truly believe, that I might finally be safe.