Chapter 88

I remain silent for a moment, staring at Ezequiel, feeling Jeremiah's presence behind me. The answer is easy, because I want to be fucked right now. To have my bikini bottom ripped off and be shared in this very water.

"Yes," I reply.

Ezequiel smiles, a genuine smile, even if it's small. "I'll be sure to roll out the red carpet for you."

—Just move your tongue and your hips. That's all I need from you.—

He groans. “Oh, I love it when you make dirty jokes. See you soon, Queen Laury.”

He disappears underwater, his body crossing the pool to the other side. I turn around to look at Jeremiah.

"What was that?" I asked. "How did he act when he thought the problem was you two instead of... all men?"

Jeremiah looks away for the first time. "That's his story."

\-But is there a story?

"Do you mind?" He doesn't ask with any ill intentions, more as if he's wondering if I'm asking because I really want to know.

And yes, I want to know, but being asked if I know reminds me that I shouldn't. That I don't have the right. After all, I made the rules.

Without feelings.

"I'll see you this weekend," I say, putting distance between us.

He tilts his head as if he knows exactly why I'm doing this. His mocking smile indicates he'll let me go... for now.

As we leave the resort and the island, the flight home, everything seems like a blur due to the absolute exhaustion of finally finishing the wedding plans that have absorbed my life for the past few months. Between getting real sleep for the first time in almost as long and catching up on everything I've ignored while planning the wedding, the weekend seems to be catching up with me. I don't even know what day it is until I see an incoming call from my mom. She's called every Sunday, without fail, since I moved away to go to college and left her home alone. Well, that's what she liked to say, but I knew she was never alone for long.

—Hi, Mom—, I reply.

"My girl Laury." I can hear the smile in his voice, making my lips curl. "How was the wedding?"

—It was so beautiful. Everything went perfectly.—

—Of course you did. You planned it.—

I laugh. “Thanks. How was your week?”

—It was horrible, but it's getting better now that I'm on tour.

—On the way to where?—

I have a feeling I'll regret the question, but I ask it anyway. Sometimes, a bitter part of me wonders if he's just calling to tell me about his latest adventure, instead of asking how I'm doing. It's been a recurring thought throughout my life.

—I'm spending the weekend with Richard. You remember Richard, right?

I hate the temptation to say no just out of spite. But I do remember her new boyfriend, the new love of her life. Her love for one man after another, and the heartbreak that followed when each one left her, no matter how much she changed for them, had been the only reason I swore long ago to never fall in love.

"I remember," I say. "How long are you staying?"

—Oh, we'll see.—

What do you mean? Don't you have work on Monday?

His silence says it all. I let myself fall, already knowing what he'll say next.

"Well... you know how spontaneous I am." She laughs nervously. "I decided that job wasn't for me. And, you know, Richard said he wished I'd put more of my time and attention into it, so I thought..."

"So, you thought about altering your own life once again to live the life some man tells you to live?" I snapped.

I curse myself in the silence that follows my harsh words.

"You give everything for love," he murmurs. "Haven't I always told you that?"

Yes, I had. But her actions behind those words taught me even more. That even if you give your all, in the end, love isn't enough. For me, love is a curse, and I'm never going to let my mother's curse come to me.

I shake my head, holding back everything I want to say and instead ask, “Where is he taking you?”

Her voice sounds much happier when she answers, "Their lake house. Can you believe it?"

—Please text me when you arrive so I know you arrived safely.

—Of course. And you, do you have anything planned for tonight?

Having sex with two men is something I've been deliberately avoiding thinking about all week.

Nothing special. Just me and the couch.

—Laury, you're too beautiful to be sitting home alone on a Sunday.

—Yeah, so you've said it once or a thousand times.— I chuckle. —Have a fun weekend. Don't forget to write to me.—

—It's okay. I love you, baby.—

—I love you too, Mom.—

I hang up and go to put the phone on the counter, but it vibrates in my hand before I can. The screen lights up, and I see a text from Jeremiah. I'm saddened by the way my heart races just seeing his name.

Here's our address. See you at six.

I read the address, loving and hating at the same time that he doesn't ask, but tells me what time to arrive. I ignore the rush of heat that runs through me when I see Ezekiel's name at the top, but something tells me he won't text me. I put my phone down and look for something to wear. I have no idea how to dress for a night at his house. Casual, elegant, jeans, a dress? I decide on a soft pink sleeveless tee with a plunging neckline and a flowing black skirt that falls to the floor.

I shower, shave, and wash my hair, excitement preoccupying me. At first, it's easy to tell myself it's just the anticipation of what's to come, but as I dress and comb my hair, staring in the mirror and wondering if they'll like what they see, I'm forced to admit it's more than just what they'll do to my body. I wonder what they'll say. What they'll or won't wear. I wonder if they've been thinking about me as much as I've been trying desperately not to think about them.

My phone vibrates again, and I open the message, thinking it's from Jeremiah again. In reality, it's from my mom, letting me know he's arrived at Richard's lake house. It's like a bucket of ice water has been poured over me, a brutal reminder why I can't allow myself to think of them as anything more than men to please me. I'll end up like...her.

I text him back and then take one last look in the mirror.

"Get your act together, Laury," I murmur to my reflection.

This is fucked up. Fuck, I get it. Fuck doesn't confuse me. Fuck, I can afford it. Anything else, no.

I grab my bag and walk through the house to the front door. My mind is a mess during the drive, but I viciously suppress any thought other than what I want to do with them once we take off our clothes. I have no doubt about it. I'll leave this house satisfied. But do they expect me to stay the night now that we're at their house and not a resort? Whose room will we be in, or is there some special room they bring women to when they share at their house? Are we going to have sex as soon as I walk in, or are we just going to stay for a while as friends?

By the time I get to their house, uncertainty overwhelms me. I notice my hands are shaking as I reach for my purse. What the hell is wrong with me? I'm not like this with anyone else, so why am I with them? Sex is where I feel confident, where I know exactly what I want and need, so why is this situation any different? I can't find the answer.

I take a deep breath, which doesn't relax me at all, and get out of the car. Walking up the driveway, my gaze takes in their house. Big, too big for them alone, with gray brick, windows that spill out everywhere, with blinds open to see inside. On the second floor, I see a library that makes me wonder who uses it, and a home gym that doesn't surprise me at all.

"Typical." I laugh to myself. It's a necessary laugh as I reach the door.

I feel nervous, but at the same time, I feel excitement, desire, and curiosity to know what else they can teach me about the experience of being with two men. I raise my hand and touch the doorbell with my finger. There's no turning back.

"You really showed up," Jeremiah says as he opens the door. "I had a bet with Ezequiel about whether you'd come."

For once, her smile puts me at ease instead of tensing my shoulders with the surge of emotions it provokes. It sets the tone for the evening, which I wasn't sure what it would be, along with her outfit: a tight gray T-shirt, skinny jeans, bare feet. I wonder if there's anything that doesn't fit her. Maybe a hospital gown? But then I imagine her spreading herself and giving me a glimpse of her firm, sexy ass, and I realize that no, not even that would diminish her appeal.

I clear my throat to focus on him, fully clothed in front of me, so I can finally say my first words to him.

—Well, I guess I should have waited a little longer because I don't see the red carpet they promised me.

His mocking smile turns into a grin. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness, but come in and we’ll make sure the food is up to par.”

"Food?" I raise an eyebrow as I enter her house. Now, however, I can smell something absolutely delicious cooking. "Who's the chef?"

"Both of us," Ezequiel announces as he enters the living room.