14 | Hot Tub
The label loved the second song.
Their email included several paragraphs of notes, alternate deadlines, and cautious language about continuing the momentum, but the important part was that they loved it. They specifically mentioned Kadir’s bass opening, Wesley’s rhythm, and the space Leo had left around both.
For once, nobody had been praised for correcting anyone else.
I read the email twice at the dining table while the men argued in the studio about whether the chorus needed another line.
I considered calling them upstairs and announcing the news, but the sound of their disagreement lacked its usual sharp edges.
They were still working. Kadir was still playing.
Wesley was defending a transition. Leo was objecting without making it everyone’s emergency.
They could have the email in ten minutes.
I wanted the hot tub first.
The lodge had an enclosed back porch I had barely used beyond walking through it to reach the patio.
The room was surrounded by tall windows that turned black at night, reflecting the warm string lights hung along the wooden beams. A stone hot tub had been built partially into the floor at one end, large enough to qualify as a small private pool.
The other end held a polished table, cushioned chairs, and a cabinet stocked with towels and several remote controls I had not bothered identifying.
It looked designed for wealthy people who needed nature visible but properly contained behind glass.
I changed into a black swimsuit, pulled a robe over it, and carried a towel downstairs. The men were still in the studio when I opened a good bottle of red wine and poured myself a glass.
That was where my attempt at privacy failed.
Leo came out of the hallway as I was heading toward the porch. His attention moved from the wineglass to the towel over my arm, then down to the bare legs visible beneath my robe.
“Where are you going?”
“To enjoy ten minutes without being asked to improve anything.”
Wesley appeared behind him. “Are you getting in the hot tub?”
The excitement in his voice suggested I had announced a surprise vacation.
“Alone.”
“The label respond yet?”
I had forgotten that my phone’s notification sound could apparently be heard through two floors and several feet of soundproofing.
“They love the song.”
Leo took the wine bottle from the counter. “We should celebrate.”
“I am celebrating.”
Kadir came up from the studio carrying his cigarettes. His gaze settled on the robe, then moved to my face with enough patience to remind me exactly what he had done the last time we were alone near recording equipment.
“The hot tub?” he asked.
“I was planning to sit in it by myself.”
“We’ll bring more glasses,” Wesley said.
I looked between the three of them. Nobody appeared to recognize that I had issued a rejection instead of the opening stage of a negotiation.
“I said alone.”
“You can still go out alone,” Leo said. “We need to change.”
Kadir took the bottle from him before he could open it. “Bring the other one.”
“There is no other one.”
“There’s always another one.”
Wesley was already heading upstairs. Leo followed him, apparently accepting that my evening had been converted into a band celebration without requiring management approval.
Kadir remained near the counter.
His attention lowered again, slower this time.
The robe covered everything it needed to cover. That did not stop me from feeling as though I had walked downstairs wearing considerably less.
“We’ll be out soon,” he said.
“That wasn’t permission.”
“I know.”
He went upstairs.
I carried my wine onto the enclosed porch before one of them found another way to win an argument I had not agreed to have.
Steam rolled across the surface of the hot tub when I removed the insulated cover. The stone edge was smooth and warm beneath my hand. I hung my robe over the back of a chair, set my wineglass on the wide ledge, and stepped into the water.
The heat reached my hips, then my waist. I lowered myself onto one of the submerged benches and exhaled.
For approximately three minutes, I had exactly what I wanted.
The porch was quiet. Snow drifted through the darkness beyond the windows. The string lights reflected against the water and the glass walls, making the room feel separated from the rest of the lodge.
The label loved the song.
They had loved something Kadir almost never shared, something Wesley had stopped softening, and something Leo had been forced to approach instead of control. My father had trusted me with a band everyone else considered too difficult to repair.
I had results now.
Professional, measurable results.
They just happened to exist beside several less measurable developments involving walls, beds, and a studio console.
The porch door opened again before the steam had even settled.
Wesley came in first, dark swim trunks low on his hips, three empty wineglasses dangling from his fingers.
Leo followed with the bottle and a towel thrown over one shoulder like he’d already decided the evening belonged to him.
Kadir closed the door behind them, black trunks, cigarette tucked behind his ear, the second bottle I had been told didn’t exist hanging from his hand.
So much for solitude.
Wesley set the glasses on the table and noticed the purple glow under the water. “We’re keeping this color?”
“Kadir decided for us,” I said.
Kadir didn’t look apologetic. He set the bottle down, stripped off his shirt in one motion, and stepped into the water without testing the temperature. Leo poured wine for everyone while Wesley slid in beside me.
For a few minutes it stayed innocent. We talked about the label email, about the way the second song had landed, about whether the chorus still needed another line.
Leo made a joke about finally being praised for leaving space instead of filling it.
Wesley laughed. Kadir drank his wine and watched me over the rim of the glass.
Then Wesley’s hand found my waist under the water.
It started as a casual touch, the same easy contact he’d used in the kitchen and the gym.
His fingers spread, warm and certain, and the next thing I knew he was pulling me sideways across his lap so I was straddling one of his thighs, my back half against his chest. The water lapped higher around us.
I felt the solid heat of him through the thin fabric of his trunks almost immediately.
“Comfortable?” he murmured against my temple, voice already softer than the conversation had been.
I let my weight settle. The shift was small, but every man in the tub noticed it.
Wesley’s arm stayed locked around my waist. His other hand traced slow circles on my bare stomach just above the waistband of my bikini bottoms. Then his mouth found the side of my neck.
“You don’t have to do anything tonight except enjoy yourself,” he said quietly, lips brushing the words into my skin.
The purple light made everything look slightly unreal. Steam rose around us. Beyond the glass, snow kept falling in the dark. I tipped my head a fraction, giving him more room, and felt him smile against my throat.
Leo watched us with open interest, one arm stretched along the stone edge. “That didn’t take long.”
Wesley kept kissing my neck, slow and deliberate. I could feel him hardening beneath me with every pass of his mouth.
Kadir’s voice cut through the steam, low and even. “You should us how you kissed her by the stairs.”
Leo’s attention sharpened. He set his glass down and moved through the water toward us, stopping when he stood between my open knees. The look he gave me was pure challenge wrapped in heat.
“It was rough,” he said. “But I think she liked it that way.” His eyes stayed on mine. “Didn’t you?”
The question hung there. Wesley’s arm tightened around my waist, holding me in place on his lap so I couldn’t pretend the admission was private.
I swallowed. “In the moment, yeah.”
Leo smiled. “Say the whole thing.”
Heat crawled up my neck that had nothing to do with the water. “I… kinda liked it when you were rough with me.”
He reached for me. One hand slid into my wet hair; the other settled lightly at the front of my throat, thumb resting on my pulse, fingers firm along the side of my neck.
Just enough pressure to tilt my head. Then he kissed me the way he had against the wall.
Hungry and charged. I kissed him back and felt Wesley’s hips press up beneath me in answer, the hard line of him unmistakable now.
Leo kept my face angled for him while Wesley continued soft, open-mouthed kisses along the side of my neck that Leo wasn’t occupying. The contrast was filthy—rough claim on my mouth, gentle suction on my throat, the solid heat of Wesley under me.
Kadir moved closer.
One large hand slipped under the water and cupped my breast through the thin black fabric of the bikini top, thumb stroking slowly over the nipple until it tightened. His eyes stayed on my face the entire time.
“You really like this, don’t you?” he said, voice calm and conversational.
I couldn’t answer with Leo’s tongue still in my mouth. Kadir seemed fine with that. He reached lower, found Leo’s wrist under the water, and guided Leo’s hand between my legs. He pressed Leo’s fingers directly over the soaked fabric of my bikini bottoms and held them there for a second.
“Rub her,” Kadir said. “Through the fabric. She likes being teased.”
Leo started moving his fingers in firm, deliberate circles. The pressure was perfect and devastating. I jerked, but Wesley’s arm kept me secure on his lap so every shift only ground me harder against his erection beneath me.
My free hand found the front of Kadir’s trunks without being told.
He was thick and hard under the wet fabric.
I stroked him slow, firm, matching the rhythm Leo was using on me.
Kadir’s breath left him in a controlled exhale, but his hand on my breast never stopped, thumb rolling the nipple with the same steady focus.