Chapter 1 More Honest, Not More Careful #3
I gripped her ass and held her down through the next thrust, grinding deep. My cock was buried in her, her clit pressed tight against me, and she cried out like the sound had been dragged out of her body.
“Come for me,” I said. “Come all over my cock.”
She shattered around me.
Kit’s pussy clenched in hard, wet spasms, milking me while her body shook on top of mine. Her nails scraped my chest. Her mouth fell open. She rode through it with broken little curses, every grind making her tremble harder.
The feel of her coming on top of me, tight and wet and shaking, snapped the last of my control. I held her hips, drove up once more, and came inside her.
The release hit hard. My cock pulsed deep in her pussy, filling her as she clenched through her own orgasm.
The first spurt made her gasp. The next made her hips roll down like she wanted to take it deeper.
Kit felt every throb, every hot pulse of cum spilling into her.
I saw it in her face, the way her eyes went wide, then soft, then satisfied in a way that made me groan all over again.
She rocked through it, slow now, milking me while I emptied inside her.
“Kit,” I said, wrecked.
She leaned down and kissed me, tender and filthy at once. “I’ve got you.”
We stayed joined while the last aftershocks ran through us.
My hands moved over her back, her hips, the damp curve of her ass.
She settled against my chest, still trembling.
I could feel my cum inside her, could feel the slick mess beginning to leak where our bodies met, warm on my skin and the sheets.
The lake came back slowly. Boats. Voices. The distant clatter of Brewster Bay turning itself into something public and polished.
Inside the cabin, Kit’s breath was against my neck, and her heartbeat was thundering against me.
She lifted her head just enough to look at me.
“Well,” she said, voice hoarse. “July can stay.”
I laughed, wrapped both arms around her, and held on.
***
Afterward, we didn’t untangle quickly.
Kit stayed on top of me, loose and warm and heavy in the best way, her cheek against my chest. My cock had slipped out of her, and the mess between us spread cooling across my stomach and thighs.
The sheets were ruined. Her hair stuck damply to her neck.
My shoulder had a bite mark I didn’t remember getting, though that didn’t narrow down the timing much.
I ran my hand up and down her spine.
She hummed. “Don’t move.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Good. You’re useful like this.”
“As furniture?”
“As mine.”
I kissed the top of her head. “I can live with that.”
She lifted her head and looked at me. Her face was flushed, her eyes bright, and there was still enough sex in her expression to make my body give one exhausted, hopeful twitch.
Kit noticed.
She laughed softly. “Ambitious.”
“Instinct.”
“That thing has gotten you into so much trouble.”
“Mostly you.”
“Entirely me.”
She reached between us and touched the mess on my stomach with two fingers, not shy, not embarrassed. Then she wiped her fingers on the ruined sheet like we’d been doing this forever. The casual intimacy of it hit me almost as hard as the sex had.
“We should clean up,” I said.
“We will.” She settled her palm over my heart. “In a minute.”
The phone on the floor buzzed again.
My gaze went toward it before I could stop myself.
Kit felt my body change. She always did.
“There you are,” she said.
“Where?”
“Leaving.”
I looked back at her. “I’m right here.”
“Your body is.” She shifted beside me, propping herself on one elbow. The movement made more of my cum slip from her, and her mouth tightened for half a second with lingering sensitivity. Then her eyes found mine again, steady and direct. “Your head is already outside with the lake.”
I exhaled through my nose. “The Fourth is in three days.”
“I know.”
“Rosewater’s bash is going to bring everyone close.
Guests, locals, staff, people with phones, people who like to talk.
” I kept my hand on her waist because touching her made it harder to lie to myself.
“They’re going to watch Brewster Bay. They’re going to watch me. They’re going to watch who I’m with.”
“Me.”
“You. Poppy. Luna. The whole circle, eventually.” I swallowed. “And if people decide it’s ugly, or greedy, or wrong, you’re the ones who take that hit too.”
Kit didn’t look wounded. That almost made it harder.
She cupped my jaw. “Look at me.”
I did.
“I am not fragile,” she said.
“I know.”
“No.” Her thumb brushed the corner of my mouth, gentle enough that the firmness in her voice landed deeper. “You know it when we’re naked and you’re looking at me like you’d fight God for touching me. You forget it when you start managing the whole world in your head.”
I didn’t have a defense that wasn’t just fear wearing a nicer shirt.
Kit saw that too.
“I’m not being replaced,” she said. “I’m not some sad first girlfriend who needs to be handled carefully because the story got bigger. I know what I chose. I know who you love. I know who loves you.”
“I’m trying to keep you from getting hurt.”
“Then stand with me.” Her palm pressed over my heart. “Don’t tuck me away. Don’t make yourself smaller. Don’t decide quiet is safer and call it noble.”
The words went straight through me.
“Kit.”
“I mean it, Nash.” Her voice softened, but she didn’t let me look away. “I don’t need you less visible. I need you more honest. I need you steady. When people talk, I need to know you won’t flinch like we’re something you have to explain away.”
“I would never be ashamed of you.”
“I know.” She kissed me once, quick and fierce. “That’s why I’m telling you before fear teaches you bad habits.”
I stared at her, at the woman who’d known me since before I knew how to want without apologizing for it.
Kit had loved me through silence, distance, denial, and every version of me that thought self-control was the same as honor.
Now she was naked in my bed, messy from my body, telling me that honor meant staying visible.
“You’re right,” I said.
Her mouth curved. “I enjoy those words.”
“You’re impossible.”
“You love it.”
“I do.” I caught her hand and held it against my chest. “And I hear you. I don’t get to decide your courage for you.”
“No, you do not.”
“I don’t get to hide you and call it protection.”
“Also correct.”
“And I don’t get to carry the whole thing alone.”
That one changed her face. The teasing eased, leaving something warmer underneath.
“No,” she said. “You don’t. That’s the part that scares me most, you know. Not the lake. Not the gossip. You going quiet and noble and stupid because you think love means bleeding privately.”
I laughed once, rough because it had nowhere else to go. “That sounds like me.”
“That sounds like the old you.” She bent and kissed the bite mark on my shoulder. “I like this one better.”
“The one covered in sweat and cum?”
“The one still here.”
I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her down until she was tucked against my side. She came easily, draping one leg over mine, resting her head on my shoulder. Her hand stayed on my chest.
Outside, Brewster Bay kept waking up. Inside, the bed still smelled like us.
The problem wasn’t solved. The Fourth was still coming. The lake would still talk. Loving more than one woman honestly didn’t make the world any less hungry for simple labels and sharp judgments.
But Kit had named the line.
Care didn’t mean hiding.
Love didn’t get braver by getting smaller.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t hide me.”
I kissed her hair. “I won’t.”
“Good.” Her hand slid down my stomach in a lazy little threat. “Because if you do, I’m telling Sally everything.”
I went still. “Everything?”
Kit smiled against my chest. “Positions. Sounds. Weaknesses.”
“You’re dangerous.”
“No.” She kissed me once more, right over my heart. “I’m honest.”
***
Kit’s phone started buzzing from the pile of clothes near the bathroom.
She groaned. “If that’s your mother, we’re dead.”
“My mother doesn’t call your phone.”
“Poppy does.”
The phone buzzed again, then again, relentless enough to make persistence sound like a love language. Kit pushed herself up, winced slightly, then shot me a look when I noticed.
“Worth it,” she said.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Your face got smug.”
“My face is innocent.”
“Your face has never been innocent.”
She climbed out of bed, naked and unbothered, and padded across the cabin to dig her phone out from under her dress. I stayed propped against the headboard, sheet low on my hips, watching her because I was only human and because she knew I was watching.
She glanced at the screen and laughed. “Yep. Pop.”
“Text or emergency?”
“FaceTime ambush.”
Before I could ask what that meant, Kit swiped to answer and angled the phone high enough to keep us mostly decent.
Poppy’s face filled the screen, bright-eyed and wildly awake, her dark hair piled on top of her head. Behind her was a wall covered with sticky notes in different colors.
“Finally,” Poppy said. “I was about to send search and rescue, except I figured the rescue team would come back pregnant from standing too close to that cabin.”
Kit snorted. “Good morning to you too.”
“Good morning, beautiful. Nash, are you there? Let me see the man of the hour.”
Kit walked back to the bed and climbed in beside me, pulling the sheet over both of us. Then she turned the phone so Poppy could see my face.
“You’re up early,” I said.
Poppy beamed. “Handsome and observant. You both look disgusting and happy. I love this for us.”
“For us?” I asked.
“For morale.” She leaned closer to the camera. “Also, are you decent?”
“Define decent,” Kit said.
“I don’t need to see anything, but I do need both of you awake enough to appreciate genius.”
Kit settled against my shoulder. “Show us the genius.”
Poppy flipped her camera.
The sticky-note wall came into focus. Across the top, in big letters, she’d written Brewster Bay July Push. Under it were columns labeled Rosewater Fourth, Photo Spots, Guest Energy, Social Clips, Girls’ Calendar, Deck, Pool, Bar.
I stared.