31. Sage
SAGE
I stretch out on the king-size bed, luxuriating in post-sex bliss.
Correction: in my second postcoital bliss of the day.
I am such a Leo. I couldn’t be anything else but a Leo, indulging in all this sex, and loving it. Loving, too, that this is more than sex. That Cole and I are on the same page. And I hope the same page includes something I want desperately right now.
I run a hand down his strong arm and make my request. “Would you stay the night?”
His dark eyes flicker with mischief. “Depends.”
“On what?” I ask, indignant.
He strokes his chin. “Does this sleepover include, say, room service?”
A laugh bursts from my chest. “Of course. After all, this hotel has the best chocolate cake on the Strip. Everyone knows when you want a decadent dessert, you come to The Extravagant. In fact, the best room service belongs to my hotel.”
His eyes widen. “Is that so? That’s not what I’ve heard. The sushi and sake at The Invitation was already written up in ‘Seven Best Room Service Indulgences.’”
“Where? Reddit?”
He rolls me to my back, pinning my arms above my head. “ Travel and Leisure , O ye of little faith.”
I lift my chin, all mock-haughty. “Then why don’t you see if your people can bring some across the street? To the best hotel in the city.”
That earns me a nibble on my earlobe, and a whispered “Dream on.” A bite on my neck, followed by a husky “You wish.” And a soft, lingering kiss on the hollow of my throat, chased with a “Second best.”
I thrash. “ Best. The best. This hotel is the best.”
With a laugh, he pins me tighter, and then drops his lips to mine, brushing a hot, fierce kiss there that makes me moan and arch my back.
When he pulls away, he lets go of my arms, then slides next to me. “Let’s order burgers, truffle fries, and cake at this fantastic hotel that I plan to be a guest at for many nights,” he suggests.
My stomach rumbles. “Someone knows my menu.”
He shoots me a sharp stare. “Of course I know the menu.”
“That’s one of the many things that makes you so sexy. Your eye for business.”
He eyes me up and down. “I have an eye for sin too.”
“I know, Cole. Trust me, I know.”
“I do trust you,” he says, and that makes my heart glow.
A little later, I’m in a soft gray tank top and sleep shorts, and he’s in his boxer-briefs as we devour burgers and fries on the couch.
He brandishes a truffle fry. “These aren’t too bad.”
I snag it from him and take a bite. “These are so good they’re orgasmic.”
“Like you,” he says, laughing.
I whack him with another fry.
He raises his hands in surrender. “Woman, that’s a good thing.”
“I know, but you still deserved a fry swat for your impudence.”
“Maybe you could add that to the marketing? ‘Good for swatting new lovers with’? That might help increase your bookings.” He gives a casual shrug. “Just a thought.”
With a glare, I jerk my arm out, point to the door, and say, “Feel free to see yourself out.”
Cole laughs, drops a kiss onto my cheek, then whispers, “You won’t kick me out. I’m not done with you.”
I arch a brow. “Prove it.”
And prove it he does, setting me on my bed, kissing me everywhere, licking and tasting and brushing those soft, confident lips all over my body until he settles between my legs and spends his sweet time edging me closer to the brink of orgasm, and closer still till I’m a panting, writhing, begging mess, and he takes me over the cliff once more.
After, he pulls me into his arms, kisses my forehead, and whispers, “I love making you come. I don’t think there’s a thing I enjoy more in the world.”
I like the sound of that. But it also wedges under my skin, makes me consider something I hadn’t thought to consider till now.
I prop my head in my hand.
“Hey,” I say, in a tone that suggests I’m about to broach something.
He picks up on the shift immediately. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart?’
“I want to ask you something. About Georgia. Is that okay?”
He nods, his eyes darkening, his lips straightening. “Yes.”
“You said you and Daniel and Georgia were out as friends the night she died.”
“That’s correct.”
“But also that the three of you had been together before. That you started out that way,” I say, and my mind is assembling the pieces, trying to understand. “Did you close it down? The idea of more threesomes, once you became serious with Georgia? Or did she?”
“We both did, Georgia and I,” he says, his eyes staying locked on mine.
For several painful seconds, I wait.
For a kernel of jealousy to form. For it to grow roots, dig deep into me. For it to clutch my heart in its green-eyed grasp.
But that doesn’t happen.
Something’s different with us. With Cole and me. I don’t want to compare myself to his past, yet I can sense that the two of us have something . . . unique.
“Neither one of you wanted to?”
“We both enjoyed that it started that way. But I don’t think either one of us cared deeply if it continued that way.”
“What about Daniel?”
“He rarely wants more. He’s happy with the physical.
Only the physical,” he says heavily. Sadness crosses Cole’s eyes, and that tugs on my heart.
It’s a sadness for his friend. For that part of Daniel that’s empty , like he told me at the dinner.
Giving a woman pleasure, more pleasure than perhaps she’s ever known, makes me feel less empty.
“So Daniel was content for the three of you to be friends?”
“He was.”
“How did it start with Georgia? Like it did with me?”
This time, the silence lasts longer.
A lot longer.
And worry thickens in me.
“Look, Sage,” he says, sitting up in bed, dragging a hand over the back of his neck. “It started as a game. You might not want to hear this.”
It comes as a warning.
Be careful what you wish for.
But I need to know. And I can handle it. I want honesty. I want trust. “No judgment. Tell me. I want to know,” I say, earnest and truthful.
“It started as a game. In college. We played it as a game. We made bets.”
“What sort of bets?” I ask, my brow furrowing.
He swallows roughly, and I tense. Have I touched on an aspect of his past that’ll turn me off? My stomach churns as I wait for an answer I might not want to hear.
“We would celebrate business victories that way – with bets. We’d place wagers on who between the two of us the woman would want to lead the tryst. We’d bet on which man she’d want more than the other,” he says, and a part of me wants to let my jaw drop in shock and say, How dare you.
But another part is unbearably turned on.
And is thoroughly understanding.
I have my kinks. They have theirs.
If I believe what Eliza said— There’s no shame in desire. There is no shame in wanting. If everyone consents and everyone is safe, that’s really all that matters —then I can’t judge Cole and Daniel for their sex games.
I can’t, and I won’t.
Because my kink is being a part of their games.
It’s being their plaything.
Having them use me for their pleasure, and for my own. For my own multiplied pleasure.
“Does that bother you?” The worry in his question cuts straight to my heart. Makes me want to reassure him too.
That’s what surprises me.
But also what doesn’t surprise me at all.
Because everything he said makes sense.
I reach for his face, sliding my thumb along his stubbled jaw. “Did you win the bet with me?”
A glimmer of a smile shines in his eyes. “Yes. But in all honesty, he threw the bet. He wanted me with you. He said you’d be good for me.”
Pride bathes me. Because I am good for him. And he is good for me. “Daniel was right. We challenge each other. We are good for each other.”
His shoulders relax. His lips curve into a grin. “You’re not bothered?”
I shake my head. “No. The opposite. I’m honored, and I’m turned on too. I like that I was part of your game. It thrills me. And I like it because you wanted more of me. You wanted me without games.”
He growls, his eyes narrowing. “I want you, games or not. Bet or not. Threesome or not. I want you . I want whatever you’ll give me, however you’ll have me.
This thing with us has played out the way it has because I am obsessed with you.
Because I want to give you pleasure. Because I can feel how much you want to be coveted.
And I want to do that for you, in and out of the bedroom,” he says, laying his dirty wishes on the line, but somehow his heart too.
Maybe they are one and the same.
That’s how they feel to me.
That’s how mine are to me.
Maybe that’s what feels different. Unique.
This openness, this honesty, this level of trust.
“I want everything you’ve given me,” I say.
“I want you all to myself, and I want to share you if that’s what you want. But only if it’s what you want, what you crave. If you want more, if you want a night with Daniel and me, I can make that happen.”
A sly grin slides across my face. “Lady’s choice, right?”
“Always,” he says, roping an arm around my waist.
I sidle up against him, curling my body around his, running my hands along his arms, down his chest, over his abs.
“I want my two Prince Wickeds one more time before Daniel leaves, and then I want you all to myself.”
A groan seems to rip from the center of his chest. “That can be arranged.”
And so, we make plans.
But some of my plans include coming clean.
Even though that’s not entirely what this lunch with my sister is. It’s a working lunch in my office to discuss Max and Alex, when the shows will begin, and how we’ll trade off marketing the magicians and then marketing Stone in the “Experience Vegas” campaign.
As we plot and work our way through Asian chicken salad for me and edamame and sushi for her, I take a break, clear my throat, then say, “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“You stole my Princess Leia figurine when we were in fourth grade and I couldn’t find her in her badass snow outfit?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes. I love Leia. She is the best princess of all the princesses.”
Ivy holds up her chopsticks to make a point. “True words.”
And there are more true words to come. They feel a bit like a confession, and a necessary one. One that gives me butterflies. I don’t want to upset Ivy with my news. I don’t want to worry her either. But then, I know my sister. And I have a feeling that she’ll understand.
“I’m seeing Cole Donovan,” I say, chin up, words strong.
She answers me with a do tell arch of her brow. “ The Cole Donovan?”
“Yes. The Cole Donovan.”
“You’re sleeping with the enemy?” she asks carefully.
“I am. But he’s not really the enemy.”
“I know, I just really wanted to say that.” She sets down her chopsticks, takes a drink of green tea, then pats the couch cushion. “I require details.”
I join her on the couch, and I serve up some of the details from my threesomes. My sister smiles like the Mona Lisa as I share.
“What is that grin all about? You’re enjoying the details of my indulgences?”
She laughs, nodding vigorously. “I’m enjoying them because they make perfect sense to me. Twins and all,” she says, a little vaguely.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, I might have indulged in one too,” she says, and at first, I’m surprised to learn that I’m not the only Carmichael who has enjoyed the pleasures of two men.
But then, I’m not that surprised either. Ivy and I have that twin connection. We are our own people, but we also share some of the same tastes.
And some of the same tastes in bed, it turns out.
“Well, we’re clearly going to need to break out some wine and chocolate and have a much deeper dive into all our dirty secrets,” I say.
“Count on it.”
I turn more serious. “But more importantly, do you still trust me to run this hotel with its best interests in mind?”
Ivy gives me a soft smile. “I’ve known you literally my entire life. I trust you with everything.”
My throat catches, and I hug my sister. I didn’t know I needed that permission till she gave it, but I’m so glad I have it now.