Page 53 of The All-Inclusive

Camille smiles at me kindly. “You don’t need to have all those answers now.”

“Enjoy,” Eve urges. “That’s part of the journey.”

“Itisthe journey,” Camille adds. “But at the end of the day, you and Trent need to discuss whether you want the same things or if your goals are shifting in different directions. It won’t work if one of you wants to restart and the other one wants to forget.”

That makes sense.

“Thanks,” I say, meaning it. “I really love you guys.”

“We love you, too.” My girls both blow kisses, laughing and waving as we wrap up the call and sign off.

I sit there in silence a moment. The man and two women get out of the pool and towel off in a hurry. They’re laughing and stuffing their feet into flip-flops, in a rush to get to wherever they’ll tear off their clothes and roll around naked together.

In the back of my mind, I replay my friend’s words.

It won’t work if one of you wants to restart and the other one wants to forget.

Which one am I and which one is Trent?

I’m not sure I know anymore.

“Holy fuck, Sara.”Trent gapes in awe as I stride from the bathroom, wearing the lingerie I bought for our wedding night. “You look so—so?—”

“Stunning, mouthwatering, stupendously gorgeous,” Logan supplies when words fail my fiancé.

Ex-fiancé?

Don’t think about that right now.

“Jesus Christ.” Trent shakes his head, looking more awed thanhe did the Christmas his mom bought him a motorcycle. “I can’t believe how fucking hot you are.”

“Thanks, boys.” I pivot to show them the back, which is honestly more like a string up my butt. It has garters and ribbons and a whole lot of see-through black fishnet.

Best of all, it’s not white.

I silently thank Eve and Camille for that.

“You want him to see you as sexy and hot,” Camille urged me last month on a girls’ trip to the coast. She nudged me toward racks of risqué lingerie in the Mischievous Mermaid shop.

“You want him to tear it off with his teeth,” Eve agreed. “Not treat you like you’re made of spun glass.”

Until this moment, I didn’t get what they meant.

I pivot to face the two men I’ve instructed to sit on their hands. They’re both at the edge of the bed, neither one wearing a shirt. That’s as far as I’ve gotten with my fantasy requests, so I might need a little help now.

“Fuck.” Trent shifts his weight, massive pecs flexing as he moves. “It’s gonna kill me not to put my hands all over you.”

Logan pipes up beside him. “Pretty please may we touch you?”

I glance at the front of their boxers, delighted to see they’ve both got erections. I should probably tease them a little bit longer, but I’m dying for someone to touch me.

“You may.”

Logan practically leaps off the bed, coming around behind me. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Oh?” My voice sounds breathy and high as his hands glide down my arms to my waist. He moves them back up, teasing the sides of my breasts before stroking his way down my belly. Trent’s heated gaze tracks the other man’s hands to the lacy top of my panties. He teases his fingertips under the waistband, but he doesn’t touch methere.

Not yet.

---