11. Ready Action #2
I kiss the delicate place of her neck, just below her ear, and her breath stutters.
“Still want us both?”
“Yes.” Her answer is immediate.
I give her a look.
She rolls her eyes. “You said not to answer the first time immediately. You don’t get to make that a permanent rule.”
“That’s fair.”
Her smile turns wicked again. “What happens if Ronan wipes the floor with you?”
There is a challenge in the question, even though her tone is teasing.
“Oh, wife.”
Her smile falters—just a fraction—because she hears the returning challenge in my voice.
I kiss the corner of her mouth. “He might.” Another Kiss. “But I’m going to make him fucking work for it.”
Her breathing is a little erratic, and that flush has moved up her neck to her ears.
I slip into stoic paramedic mode, like I’ve done so many times on the job.
“Okay,” I say definitively as I pull back from her.
“Okay?” she echoes.
“Yeah.”
I take the sock she abandoned earlier and put it back in her hand. “Finish the laundry.”
Her mouth falls open.
I grin and start to back away.
“Griffin!”
“What?”
“You’re an asshole.” There’s absolutely no venom in her tone.
I laugh as I leave her room.
By the time Ronan walks into Cami’s bedroom, I’m already questioning why this seemed considerably easier when we were just talking and joking about it.
Not whether I want it—that part hasn’t changed.
But there was something safely hypothetical about sitting across from Ronan in the basement discussing boundaries. Even talking to Cami afterward didn’t have quite the same weight as standing beside her bed with both of them in the room.
Cami sits cross-legged near the foot of the mattress, watching us.
For a moment, nobody speaks.
“Well,” she finally says, “this isn’t awkward at all.”
I laugh, mostly because she’s right.
Ronan closes the bedroom door behind him. “You’re nervous.”
“Which one of us?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers with a smile.
That gets an actual laugh out of me, and some of the tension in Cami’s shoulders disappears.
She points at Ronan. “I’m allowed to be nervous.”
“Of course you are,” he assures her.
“Are you?” she asks.
His answer comes without hesitation. “Yes.”
Cami and I look at each other—apparently neither of us expected that.
Ronan catches my expression. “Why is that surprising?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “You don’t exactly give off nervous energy.”
He smirks. “I generally know what I’m doing.”
Cami snorts.
Ronan smiles at her, but then his attention moves between us and something in his expression changes.
“Before we do anything, everybody still wants this?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Very yes,” Cami adds.
I look at her, my smile widening. “Very yes?”
“Everything is greener than green.”
“That’s not how stoplights work, baby,” I tease.
“You know what I mean,” she teases right back.
“I do.”
Ronan somehow manages to look both amused and exasperated, but manages to clarify, “Speaking of which, same stoplight system. Green, yellow, red. All three of us.”
Cami and I both nod.
“And red stops everything,” he continues. “For all three of us.”
“We got it,” I reply.
His eyes settle on me for another second.
I know why—he’s making sure I know that all three of us includes me.
I do.
“Anything changed since we last talked?” he asks.
We both answer, “No.”
“Anything either of you thought of that we haven’t discussed?”
I shake my head.
Cami says, “No.”
“Okay, then we’re good,” Ronan says.
For several seconds, the three of us just stay exactly where we are.
Cami finally looks between us. “Seriously?”
We both look at her.
“Is someone supposed to yell, ‘go’?” she chides.
I laugh. “Impatient, are we?”
“I’ve been waiting for this longer than either of you.”
“Have you?” Ronan asks.
Something in his voice changes. It’s subtle, but I catch it and Cami… well, her entire body reacts. It’s not dramatic—she doesn’t moan or throw herself backward onto the bed. She just… stills. Her lips part slightly, and the look she gives him feels mischievous.
“Don’t,” Cami warns him.
“I haven’t done anything,” he counters.
“You did the voice.”
I look between them. “The voice?”
Cami glances at me. “Don’t encourage him.”
Ronan’s smile slowly appears. “Interesting.”
“Ronan,” she warns again.
“Cameron.”
And there it is again.
Holy shit.
I knew about this. I’ve seen pieces of this.
But this is different—to be involved intimately in it. I’m standing three feet away from her while another man’s voice changes the way she breathes.
I wait for the reality to hurt.
It doesn’t.
And if I’m honest? It does something else entirely.
Cami’s eyes find mine.
For half a second, I wonder what she sees on my face, because her expression softens.
Then Ronan takes a step backward—away from her.
That draws my attention to him.
“Go ahead,” he says to me.
I furrow my brow. “Go ahead?”
His eyes move toward Cami.
And suddenly I understand—he’s giving me the first move.
It’s probably supposed to make this easier. Maybe a month ago, it would have. Hell, ten minutes ago, it might have.
But all I can hear is what he said downstairs.
Don’t treat me like I’m borrowing her from you.
And somehow, without meaning to, he’s either doing it to himself or treating me as if I’m borrowing her from him.
I look at him. “No.”
Cami’s eyebrows shoot up.
Ronan’s expression barely changes, but I know him well enough to catch the surprise.
“You don’t get to lend her to me either,” I answer the unasked question in his eyes.
For a second we’re all quiet.
Then the corners of Ronan’s mouth lift.
Cami looks between us. “I feel like I missed a meeting.”
“You did,” I tell her. “The dungeon summit.”
She smiles. “Was there a slideshow?”
“Several pie charts,” I tease.
“Griffin.
I smile, but turn my attention to Ronan.
Something in the room has shifted. Something between us has shifted.
The nerves are still there, but they aren’t running the show anymore.
Because I am confident in the fact that this isn’t Ronan letting me into something.
And it sure as hell isn’t me supervising him with my wife.
It’s the three of us—together. And that is the entire fucking point.
“So,” Ronan says slowly, “what do you suggest?”
There’s something about the question that feels like a challenge. Maybe he doesn’t mean it that way—but it doesn’t matter. Because apparently some deeply buried part of me has been waiting for exactly that.
I look at Cami.
She’s still sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching us like she has absolutely no idea what just happened but would like front-row seats.
Offering my hand to her, I quietly say, “Come here, baby.”
Her eyes widen.
Ronan inhales sharply.
Cami uncrosses her legs and slides off the mattress.
She comes directly to me.
I don’t touch her immediately.
That might actually surprise me.
Reaching for her is instinct. My hands find her constantly—her waist, her back, her cheek—some tiny point of contact that reassures both of us that the other is there.
Instead, I let her stop and stand in front of me.
Her gaze searches mine.
“Still very green?” I ask.
A smile starts pulling at her mouth. “Extremely.”
“Good.”
I finally lift my hand and brush my knuckles over her cheek.
Her expression softens immediately.
I know that look.
I know her.
And I know, without a doubt, it is not something I need to protect in a room with Ronan.
Knowing her feels like an advantage.
My eyes flick toward him.
He’s watching me—closely.
“You know,” I say to him, “ we talked a lot about boundaries and everything we could and could not do…”
Ronan nods once as I trail off.
Cami looks between us. “Should I be worried?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“No,” Ronan answers at exactly the same time.
She blinks.
I smile.
Then Ronan actually laughs.
But I’m not finished. “We didn’t talk about one thing.”