25. Road Session #3
Micah's voice comes low behind him. “Fucking make her.”
Dex groans.
His hand slides between us.
Two fingers find my clit.
“Like that?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“Fuck, Dex—yes.”
He kisses me.
Micah drives into him harder.
Dex's fingers move faster.
The orgasm hits hard enough that I lose the rhythm of my own breathing.
I come around him, shaking, nails digging into his back.
Dex makes a broken sound. “Fuck. Cami—”
Micah doesn't let him stop. “Not yet.”
Dex's eyes squeeze shut. “Oh, fuck you.”
“You can take it.”
That destroys him.
I watch it happen.
Dex's whole face goes slack with pleasure before he groans against my throat. “Micah.”
“I know.”
“Fuck, I'm gonna—”
“Come.”
Dex does.
Hard.
He buries his face further into my neck as he comes inside me, body shuddering between us.
Micah follows shortly after, his hand gripping Dex's hip hard enough that I know there will probably be marks tomorrow.
For a while, none of us move.
Then Dex says into my shoulder, “I no longer have nervous energy.”
I start laughing.
Micah pulls out carefully. “That was the goal.”
“Highly effective treatment.”
“Evidence-based,” I add.
Micah lies down beside us.
Dex collapses half on top of me.
“Ow.”
“Sorry.” He moves approximately three inches.
Better.
I run my fingers through his hair.
The room settles around us.
Eventually Dex says, “Today was fucking terrifying.”
Micah and I both know he's not talking about the sex.
I keep stroking his hair. “The studio?”
“Yeah.”
His voice is muffled against my chest. “I fucking loved it.”
Micah rolls onto his side. “I know.”
Dex lifts his head. “What if I really love it?”
Micah doesn't even hesitate. “Then you really love it.”
“That is irritatingly uncomplicated.”
“It doesn't have to be complicated yet.”
Dex drops onto his back.
I turn toward him.
He stares at the ceiling. “I felt like I knew what I was doing.”
“You did.”
“No, but…”
“I know.”
He looks at me.
I push up on one elbow. “You belonged there.”
His expression shifts. “Yeah?”
“Dex. You walked into a room with Austin Fletcher, told him his bridge was emotionally lying, called part of his song safe and boring, and then fixed it.”
“I did not fix the whole thing.”
“That's what you took from that?”
“It matters.”
Micah laughs softly. “You were good.”
Dex's eyes get shiny.
He immediately points at both of us.
“No.”
I smile. “What?”
“We just had filthy hotel sex. You do not get to make me cry now. That's emotionally manipulative.”
Micah leans across him. “You were really fucking good.”
Dex glares. “Traitor.”
Micah kisses him.
That keeps him quiet for a while.
When they separate, Dex exhales and reaches for both of us.
I tuck myself into one side.
Micah settles against the other, one arm stretching across Dex and me.
Outside the windows, Chicago glows below us.
Dex finds my hand beneath the blanket.
Micah's arm tightens around us.
For the first time since we landed, Dex is completely still.
“I love you guys,” he says quietly.
Everything in me stops.
Dex seems to realize what he said at almost the exact same time I do.
His fingers tighten around mine.
For once, he doesn't immediately fill the silence.
Doesn't make a joke.
He just looks at me.
And suddenly I'm back on our date months ago, listening to him stop himself before he could say something I already knew was sitting there.
Except he didn't stop this time.
“Dex.”
His eyes flick away. “Sorry. That just kind of—”
“Don't.”
He looks back at me.
I squeeze his hand. “Don't take it back.”
Something in his face breaks open. “I wasn't going to.”
His voice is smaller than I've ever heard it.
Fuck.
My throat tightens.
Because I've told Griffin I love him.
Those words belong easily between us now. They have weight, but they're familiar weight.
This isn't.
Micah is watching me from the other side of Dex, perfectly still.
He doesn't rescue me from the moment either.
He lets me get there myself.
And maybe that's part of why I love him too.
The thought settles with such simple certainty that I almost laugh.
Oh.
Well.
Apparently we're doing this.
I look at Dex first. “I love you too.”
His eyes close.
Just for a second.
When they open again, they're wet. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, dumbass.”
A laugh escapes him, shaky and relieved.
I reach across his body for Micah.
His gaze drops to my hand before returning to my face.
“And I love you.”
Micah goes completely still.
It somehow affects me more than Dex's reaction.
Dex has emotions at full volume whether he wants them or not.
Micah usually keeps his behind his ribs where he can examine them privately.
I watch the words actually land.
His throat moves. “Cami.”
My chest aches. “I do.”
He reaches across Dex and touches my face.
His thumb brushes under my eye.
Apparently I'm crying now too.
Great.
“I love you too,” he says.
It’s quiet and deliberate.
No fucking ambiguity anywhere in it.
The first real tear slips down my cheek. “Fuck.”
Dex makes a strangled noise between us. “No. Absolutely fucking not.”
I laugh through the tears. “What?”
“Both of you at once?” His own eyes are wet.
“You started it.”
“I made one vulnerable statement. You two turned it into an emotional firing squad.”
Micah laughs.
Dex points at him. “And you're fucking crying too.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Micah wipes at his face, and his fingers come away wet. “Fuck off.”
I start laughing hard enough that I have to press my face into Dex's shoulder.
Dex wraps an arm tighter around me.
Micah's hand settles against the back of my neck.
For several seconds, all three of us are laughing and crying in an absurdly expensive Chicago hotel bed while completely naked.
Honestly, it feels appropriate.
Dex finally exhales. “So.”
I lift my head. “So?”
“We're all in love with each other.”
The sentence hits differently stated that way.
Not Dex and Micah, plus me.
Not me and Dex.
Not me and Micah.
All three of us.
A triangle that finally has every line drawn in.
I look at Micah.
He looks at Dex, then back to me.
“Yeah,” he says.
Dex's smile comes slowly. “That's fucking cool.”
I laugh. “Poet.”
“Songwriter, actually. Austin Fletcher says so.” Dex pulls both of us closer.
When the silence settles, it doesn't feel like anything is waiting to be said.
It's already out there.
Mine.
Theirs.
Ours.
Tomorrow there will be more musicians, the full recording, a benefit, a stage, and whatever comes afterward.
Tonight, there are three of us tangled in one enormous bed in a city that isn't home, saying something that somehow makes home feel even more real.
Dex presses a kiss to my forehead.
Micah kisses my shoulder.
I close my eyes.
Maybe thirty seconds pass.
Then Dex says, “Now that we've emotionally traumatized each other, do you think room service has mozzarella sticks?”
I laugh so hard my stomach hurts.