“Why? So I’ll make a decision by a certain date?” I sit up and scoot back to the headboard. “I haven’t even decided if I’m staying.”
“You’re staying.” Cole shifts to sit cross-legged, facing me. “Admit it, so we can move on.”
“No.” I cross my arms. “What’s the six-month time line?”
“I put you at an unfair advantage before.” Quiet, heavy, Cole’s voice scratches in his throat. “You’re so beautifully submissive, and I leveraged that, making it difficult for you to stick to your no-sex rule.”
He seduced me, thoroughly and completely. But my actions are my own. I knew what I was doing and could’ve stopped it.
“This time, Trace and I are making the rules.” Cole runs a finger over his eyebrow. “Decisions about sex are between him and me.”
“What?” Fire ignites in my veins. “That’s not—”
“I’m not finished.” He leans closer. “We’re staying here until summer—”
“But it’s January! That’s six…” My voice falls. “Months.”
“Six months,” Trace says. “We don’t want a decision from you before that.”
“That’s crazy.” I run a nail over my fleece pants, thinking. “What if I know before then?”
Wouldn’t I know? Six months is a long time. Especially while living under the same roof with them.
“If you know, we’ll all know.” Trace’s eyes lose focus and clear just as quickly. “And that will be that.”
“The point is there won’t be any pressure.” Cole tilts his head. “No pressure to decide. No pressure about sex.”
“You’re going to go six months without sex?” I look at them with disbelief.
“Trace has his inflatable friend.” Cole shrugs.
“I bet your ass is jealous of the shit leaking out of your mouth.” Trace grunts an abrasive sound. Then he turns to me and softens his tone. “With regard to intimacy, we’re taking those decisions away from you.”
“You can’t—”
Trace moves so quickly I feel my air cut off before I see his hand wrap around my throat. I claw at his fingers, and he loosens them just enough to open my windpipe.
My breaths come fast and shallow. My skin heats beneath his ferocious gaze, and my heart hammers out of control.
The pressure of his hand doesn’t make me fearful. It thrills me, arouses me, and he knows it.
Warmth trembles in my thighs, and a heavy ache swells between my legs, gathering, throbbing, and forcing a whimper past my lips.
Cole doesn’t move beside me, his fist resting beneath his chin, his expression dark and unreadable.
“Nothing turns you on more,” Trace breathes, leaning in, “than surrendering your power to another. You don’t want the control. You want to be relieved of it. You crave the freedom it gives you. Shake your head if I’m wrong.”
I don’t move, my fingers curled around his wrist, my breath lodged in my throat. He’s right. I want to be owned, dominated, and pleasured by a man I trust. And I trust him when it comes to sex. Both of them. They know my limits, and they have the desire, experience, and skill to effectively master my body. It’s one of the reasons sex with them is so damn good.
“Your face is flushed.” Trace flexes his fingers against my neck and glances down. “Your nipples are swollen, and your heart is racing.”
My gaze flies to Cole, and he stares back at me, his eyes pupil-black and half-mast.
“I’m making a point.” Trace uses his grip to turn my head toward him. “Tell me what it is.”
“If I stay…” My throat bobs against his hand. “All decisions regarding sex are between you and Cole.”
“Tell me why.”
“I prefer it that way.” I wet my lips and whimper. “And it takes the pressure off me.”
“Good girl.” Trace releases my neck and touches his lips to my brow.
I melt beneath the warmth of his mouth and slide down on the mattress until I’m flat on my back.
Cole focuses on my hand where it rests between us. When I lift it toward him, he grips it, knotting our fingers together. Then he lowers his head to the pillow and stretches out on his side, facing me.
Trace turns off the light, blanketing the room in darkness. The bedding rustles as he slides a blanket over us.
While still holding onto Cole’s hand, I reach my other toward Trace. His fingers find mine beneath the sheets and clutch tightly.
No one speaks. Not for the long minutes that follow.
I waver so uncontrollably between I shouldn’t be here and this is exactly where I’m supposed to be, between resisting and surrendering, fleeing and fighting, that I doubt every thought in my head.
That’s when it hits me. I’m not leaving. Because if I did, it would only prolong the inevitable. Since they know I won’t be happy without them, they’ll track me down and haul me back.
Why would they go through so much trouble? I’m just a woman. An average, pain-in-the-ass woman with a lot of flaws.
“Why are you doing this?” My voice drops to a whisper. “I’m not worth it.”
“Since the moment I saw you…” Trace squeezes my fingers. “I haven’t gone a day without thinking about you. No matter how much it hurts or how long it takes, I know that a lifetime with you is worth fighting for.”
“I couldn’t have said it better than that.” Cole grunts a soft chuckle. “Fucking asshole.”
I pull my arms to my chest, bringing their hands close and holding them there, against my heart. “What are we going to do for six months?”
“I’ll show you tomorrow.” Cole shifts closer and brushes a kiss against my shoulder. “Tell me you’re staying.”
“I’m staying.” I let out a contented sigh.
I missed this. God, I missed them so much.
They’re giving me a six-month reprieve from making a decision. That seems like an eternity to make them wait, but we tried it my way, and I messed everything up.
Things will be different this time.
While they’re making the rules and controlling the arrangement, I’m going to fight.
Fight my doubts.
Fight my fears.
Fight my indecision.
I’ll fight through the agony and do the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do.
I’ll choose which part of my heart I have to let go forever.
I wake to a quiet room and sunshine warming my face. With a full body stretch, I rouse a little more, blinking, yawning, and alone.
The mattress on either side of me is cool to the touch. When I strain my ears, I’m met with silence. Where are they?
I sit up and spot my phone on Trace’s pillow, next to a note scrawled in his elegant penmanship.
Passcode for all doors is the year your car was made.
Call your parents.
I grin at his bossiness and head to the bathroom, where I freshen up and brush my teeth. Then I grab the phone and leave the bedroom in search of coffee.
Down the hallway and through the living room, I pause at the kitchen island. The house is empty and still. Unless Cole and Trace are in one of the locked rooms, they must be outside.
I find a pot of coffee waiting, prepare a cup, and step toward the windowed wall in the living room.