Page 64 of The All-Inclusive

Someone touches my shoulder and I’m not even sure who it is. I try to sit up, but my ab muscles won’t work anymore.

“I’ve got you, baby.” Trent eases me up, caressing my face as he shifts me to sit on his lap. “That was insane.”

He’s kissing me now, and I’m sure he tastes Logan on my tongue. We’re way beyond caring, way past the point of concern about sand in uncomfortable places. Thank God I wore this long dress, since the back of the fabric shields my delicate parts from the grit. Can’t say the same for these guys, but they don’t seem to care.

“My God.” Logan’s hand glides down my arm. “I’ve done this a long time,” he murmurs, kissing the side of my neck. “But I’ve never experienced anything like that.”

“Same.” I giggle, since I’m the only one here without much experience. “Ooops.”

“What’s that?” Trent sounds drugged, stroking my hair as he kisses the shell of my ear.

Sighing, I lean into his touch. “Weren’t we supposed to go to my room?”

His chest shakes with laughter. “We were supposed to do a lot of things, Sar.”

Still trailing his fingers up and down my arm, Logan releases a bliss-soaked sigh. “I’m glad you let go of ‘supposed to.’”

Smiling, I lock eyes with Trent. “So am I.”

It isn’t tootough to secure a dinner reservation for a party of three. I don’t even feel weird showing up with two men on my arm. I catch a few people watching as the host guides us out to our table, but no one with judgment. The closest I see might be envy.

A woman looks up from a table where she’s seated between two men of her own. We exchange a knowing smile as the host steers my trio to a spot at the edge of the seawall. Trent pulls out my chair while Logan orders a bottle of white wine and three glasses.

“I’ll be back with your drinks,” says the host, handing out menus to each of us. “Are we interested in any starters tonight?”

Logan touches the back of my hand, which rests at the edge of the appetizer section. “I saw in your profile you love spicy food. Do you like shishito peppers?”

“I do.” I need to stop saying those words like some kind of wannabe bride.

Seeing me squirm, Trent sets a hand on my knee. “Her mom makes these amazing shishitos with a creamy dip. They’re kinda her specialty.”

I love that he knows what I like. That theybothdo. A girl could get used to two men going out of their way to please her.

“In that case,” Logan says, “I think you’ll like the blistered shishitos with goat cheese and chili sauce. And maybe the coconut shrimp crostini to share?”

“Perfect.” I survey the entrées, settling quickly on a sesame crusted ahi that Camille recommended. “Anyone want to split the Caribbean Caesar salad?”

“Me.” They both speak at the same time, then laugh.

“I’ll fight you for it.” Trent jokingly picks up his butter knife.

“No need.” Logan sets down his menu, splaying his hands on the table. “We’ll just have them make it for three.”

“You can do that?” God, I love this place.

“Yep.” Logan grins. “I know this is new to you guys, but group dates are pretty common around here.”

I survey the restaurant and see more than one non-traditional union. Five women share one cozy booth nearby. The tangle of limbs under the table tells me it’s not just an innocent girls’ night.

Aside from the trio I saw on the way in, there’s a woman near the bar withfourmen, plus another threesome comprised of two women and a man. There are plenty of normal couples, too, scattered throughout the restaurant.

Then again, who am I to judge what’snormal?

I might be rethinking some things.

“This place is amazing,” I say, pulling my gaze back to Logan. “You must see some pretty unique stuff.”

He takes a sip of the wine our waiter sets down in front of him. “There isn’t much I consider unique these days,” he muses. “After three years here, I’ve pretty much seen it all”

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