Alec
By the second night, everyone was rested, lulled into that deceptive calm that only comes when you’re far from responsibility.
The slate-grey fireplace dominated the living room, its long horizontal flame modern but hypnotic—controlled, contained, mimicking something wild without ever losing its boundaries.
I dimmed the lights before joining them.
Ella was curled into the corner of the sofa, legs tucked beneath her, the glow of the fire brushing gold across her skin. Rowan had a drink balanced loosely in his hand. Nick looked half-sprawled, lazy in appearance only.
“How about a game of truth or dare?” I said, settling into the seat opposite them.
I kept my tone light. Idle. As if the idea had just occurred to me.
I pretended not to notice the way Ella’s shoulders tightened.
It didn’t surprise me when Nick’s hand slid to her back, slow and reassuring.
He’d been the one tending the tattoo, careful not to let it get too wet while it healed.
His touch drew her closer, her body angling into his without thought, her hand settling on his leg.
Rowan’s lips twitched—but he straightened, already prepared to play.
“Let’s make it fair,” I drawled, my gaze never leaving her. “Why don’t you start, Ella?”
Those startled silver eyes snapped to mine. For a heartbeat, she didn’t breathe.
She glanced at Rowan—quick, searching—then looked back at me.
“I dare you,” she said, voice steady despite the tension tightening her spine, “to kiss Rowan. Tongue and all.”
It wasn’t an idle dare.
The way her eyes moved between us—slow, deliberate—the way she caught her bottom lip between her teeth told me everything. She wasn’t provoking for effect.
She wanted to watch.
Interesting.
“Pucker up, boys,” Nick snickered.
Rowan sighed, drained his drink, set the glass aside with deliberate care—and then patted his lap for me.
I stood immediately and closed the distance.
Ella’s lips parted as she stared, breath caught somewhere between surprise and anticipation.
I’d known Rowan for fourteen years.
And in that time, we’d done far more than kiss.
Rowan rose with that infuriatingly lazy smile playing on his lips. He angled his body just enough to ensure Ella had a perfect view—every movement deliberate, unhurried.
“Just like old times,” I murmured, my hand sliding to the back of his neck, fingers closing at his nape with practiced familiarity.
Ella’s gasp cut the air—soft, involuntary.
Perfect.
Our mouths met without hesitation. The kiss was slow.
Measured. Not a challenge, not a performance—something settled and assured.
Rowan tasted of smoke and scotch, warmth and restraint, and when my tongue pressed deeper, he stepped closer without breaking rhythm, his hand coming to rest on my shoulder—steady, familiar.
Memories surfaced easily. Not regrets. Not ghosts. Just knowledge. Shared appetite. History worn smooth from use, not buried or denied.
There was no rush. No urgency. Only control—practised, mutual, unquestioned.
I knew she was watching. I knew she was counting every second.
And I knew she would pay for daring to ask.
When we broke apart, my gaze dipped briefly to Rowan’s mouth—his lips dark, wet—before we both turned to her.
Ella was frozen. Pupils blown wide, nails digging into Nick’s thigh as if she needed the anchor. Heat stained her cheeks, breath shallow, unguarded. Caught.
Nick’s slow clap cut cleanly through the moment.
He wasn’t surprised. He knew our history.
“My turn,” I said, letting the words settle between us as I leaned back slightly, relaxed, unhurried.
“Truth,” she said quickly—too quickly—then inhaled as if she’d already realised her mistake.
A slow smile curved my mouth. Not amused. Not cruel. Just certain.
“Already?” I murmured. “I would’ve thought you braver than that.”
I settled back into my seat, my attention shifting—not to the game, but to her. To what came before us.
“Why did you choose to become a nurse?” I asked, watching as the tension slowly eased from her shoulders.
Her eyes closed. She drew in a deep breath.
She was wearing one of Nick’s T-shirts—too big for her—but I could still see the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed.
“I was there when my mum died,” she said quietly, then opened her eyes to meet mine. “The paramedics… they did everything they could to save her.”
A pause.
“They didn’t care if we were rich or poor.”
Then she’d ended up stuck with that good-for-nothing dickhead, James.
Nick’s hand slid from her back to her waist. I caught his eye and gave him a small nod.
“We’ve got you now, Ella,” he murmured.
She arched a brow at him, but the faint smile that followed was unmistakable.
“But we’re still playing,” I added smoothly. “So I dare you to kiss Alec’s feet for one minute.”
“I’ll set the timer,” Rowan said, already reaching for his phone.
Ella sighed and shook her head, resigned but not upset.
I slipped my sliders off and placed my feet on the couch, stretching out comfortably.
“Yes,” I said, wiggling my toes slightly. “Come and worship my feet.”
Nick was letting her off easy with the dare, but as she settled at the foot of the couch, I let it slide.
Her hands were gentle as she held my foot.
When she bent down, her hair fell forward, brushing softly against my skin.
Then her lips followed—slow, deliberate—working their way from the arch of my foot to my toes.
She repeated it, methodical and reverent, until my entire foot had been covered in kisses.
By the time she moved to the other, my cock was hard, impatience coiling low in my gut.
One glance at Rowan and Nick told me everything I needed to know.
Same page. Same appetite.
She shifted to my second foot, lips still careful, still compliant. Rowan’s smirk deepened as he checked the time.
I knew then—it wouldn’t be stopping at one minute.
That kiss came with a cost.
My attention snapped back to Ella as her tongue followed the arch of my foot with quiet reverence—but before I could react, Rowan interrupted us.
“My turn,” he said, his voice low and rough.
He tossed me his phone.
“Lick my balls for two minutes.”
There was no truth or dare.
It was back to business.
He stood ready, his T-shirt lifted. Nick shifted closer and sat behind me on the edge of the couch. I drew my legs back to give Ella room to move. She turned toward Rowan, but then pushed him back and dropped to her knees instead.
“Damn,” Nick muttered under his breath.
We watched with hungry eyes, and for the briefest moment I felt a pang of envy—but it vanished as quickly as it surfaced.
It wasn’t Rowan’s fault that Ella was so diligent in her task.