Page 67 of The All-Inclusive

We stop talking to pass around plates and trade dishes of fat, blistered peppers and mouth-watering crostini piled high with fresh shrimp. We devour the food with the same gusto we bring to our bedroom activities. Orbeachactivities, I guess. Suffice it to say, it took me a while to scrub sand from my body after that interlude on the shore.

The men chat with ease, talking about everything from military life to favorite forms of exercise. When Trent licks a dab of goat cheese off his thumb, I catch Logan watching his mouth with undisguised lust.

Chewing a mouthful of pepper, I swallow. “Tell us more about the ropes, Trent.”

“Yeah,” Logan agrees. “I want to hear what you’re into.”

“Later,” he says, shifting a little in his seat. “I promise I’ll tell you eventually. It’s not really that exciting, but—” He pauses, glancing between us like he’s looking for something. “I’m kinda enjoying keeping it light. Trading funnier stories, if that’s okay?”

“Yes,” Logan says, grinning. “Hell yeah.”

“Good idea.” Squeezing his hand, I reach for my wineglass again. “I like that we can all be together and it’s not just about turning each other on.”

“Agreed.” Trent looks relieved that I get it. “Who’s next?”

“Me.” I smile when they both look surprised. “What? The recent virgin can’t have a funny sex story?”

There’s another quick pause as one waiter whisks away our empty plates and another one delivers our dinners. We dig in like savages, replenishing calories we burned with our back-to-backsex sessions. There’s some trading of bites and a whole lot of bliss-soaked sighing as we savor our meals.

“Okay,” Trent says once we’ve slowed down a bit. “I think Sara was going to share a sex story.”

Logan grins. “Lay it on us.”

Trent wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Is this one I’ve heard before?”

“Nope.” I’m a little proud to have my own sex secrets, even if this one’s embarrassing. “It actually has to do with my notebook. It’s mostly filled with stuff Camille spouts off over happy hour.”

“She’s a sex therapist,” Trent tells Logan.

“Ah, yes.” He smiles. “Sister to Dr. Christopher Plier, akaTopher?”

“Exactly.” I know him asKit, but he’s not really relevant to the story. “It’s a little silly, since Camille would happily define anything for me if I ask, but I don’t like interrupting the flow of her stories. Besides, it’s fun sometimes to take charge of learning for myself.”

“Understandable.” Trent squeezes my knee and I smile.

“So here I am with this little notebook filled with all sorts of sex terms.” This is embarrassing. “And I’m having lunch with my mom when I run to the restroom and she suddenly needs to borrow a paper and pen.”

“Oh no.” Logan winces. “I know where this is going.”

I laugh, though it wasn’t that funny at the time. “It’s even worse than you think. Mom gets a look at the first few words before I rush back from the bathroom and grab it. She asks me point blank what ‘creampie’ is.”

“No way.” Trent laughs, taking a sip of his wine. “I’m imagining your mother’s face right now.”

“We rarely have anything but cherry or apple, so she truly thought it was something to eat.” I’m blushing now, picturing theothercreampie, which I kinda got a glimpse of when Logan’s condom slipped off. “So I blathered something stupid aboutperfecting a new recipe and Mom let it go. Moved on with the conversation while I sat there hoping she’d forget all about it.”

Trent snorts. “I can’t even picture your mothersayingthat word.”

“Picture her saying it to Pastor Rollins.” I watch as both men’s eyes go wide. “Because that’s what happened the following Sunday when she announced in front of the entire ladies’ Bible study fellowship that Sara was perfecting a creampie for the next potluck.”

“Oh my God.” Logan groans, grabbing my hand. “I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughingwithyou.”

Trent’s shaking his head, his hand on my knee under the table. “I’m laughing at Pastor Rollins. Please say he didn’t deliver a sermon where he encouraged the congregation to go forth and make creampies for all.”

“Fortunately, no.” I still can’t believe that happened. “But I did tell Mom later that I decided creampies weren’t really my thing, so maybe we could stick with cherry or apple from now on?”

Still chuckling, Trent looks at Logan. With Logan holding my hand and Trent squeezing my knee, I don’t feel left out of the silent exchange between the two men.

But I do feel intrigued.

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