Page 18 of The Honor of Being Hers
“The first night you were here, after you’d gone to bed, Ryan came to us.He was terrified that he’d pushed too hard, that you’d run again.He asked us to promise that if he ever made you uncomfortable, we’d step in.Even if it meant choosing between you and him.”
She met his eyes in the mirror, seeing the sincerity there.
“He meant it,” Tyler continued.“He’d rather lose us all than see you hurt again.That’s not the same man who tormented you in school.”
The knowledge settled something in her chest, another piece of armor she hadn’t realized she was still carrying.
Dinner was slow and beautiful in a way that made her chest ache with unexpected emotion.
Ryan had set the small terrace table with flowers he’d cut from the estate’s extensive gardens, white roses and lavender that perfumed the evening air with their subtle fragrance.The tablecloth was crisp linen beneath her hands, and crystal glasses caught the soft glow of the string lights he’d hung overhead.
The food was elegantly simple: perfectly roasted vegetables that had come from their own greenhouse, pan-seared fish with a delicate herb crust, and lemon rice that somehow managed to taste like sunshine.
Yet, it was the obvious care in every detail that made her stomach flutter with something much more complex than hunger.He pulled out her chair with old-fashioned courtesy, watched her eat not because he was assessing her compliance with meal requirements, but because he genuinely wanted her to enjoy every bite.
“This is incredible,” she said, gesturing to the perfectly plated meal.The fish flaked perfectly under her fork, seasoned with herbs that she could taste were fresh-picked.“Where did you learn to cook like this?"
“Tyler taught me,” he admitted with a slight blush.“I wanted to do something special for you.I’ve never been more grateful for his lessons since you arrived.”His green eyes held a vulnerability that made her chest flutter.“He started teaching me when we moved in together.To use his words, ‘even if you can’t be bothered to cook for yourself, you should be able to prepare some basics.I don’t want to have take-out whenever it’s your turn to cook.’”
The thought of him practicing, because this was obviously far beyond ‘the basics’, made her heart flutter in ways that had nothing to do with Omega biology and everything to do with simple affection.
After dessert, a delicate fruit tart that she discovered she loved after the second tentative taste, he took her hand across the table and asked with quiet intensity:
“May I kiss you?”
Her pulse raced at the formal request, at the respect it showed for her autonomy even after all the kisses they’d already shared.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
The kiss was soft and unhurried, their mouths opening naturally to each other without any sense of rush or desperation.Just the steady, perfect pressure of lips against lips, and Ryan exhaling against her skin like he’d been waiting his entire life for this exact moment.
When he finally pulled back, her smile broke into quiet, delighted laughter that surprised them both.
“I can’t believe I really get to kiss the three of you whenever I want,” she whispered, the words meant more for herself than for him, a small celebration of how far she’d come.
Ryan kissed her again, deeper this time, sealing the moment between them.His hand came up to cup her face, thumb stroking across her cheekbone with reverent gentleness.
“I love seeing you happy,” he murmured against her lips.“I love knowing that we can give you that.”
Later that night, back in their shared bedroom, Tyler kissed her too, soft and sweet and tasting like the chamomile tea he’d been drinking.Then William claimed his own kiss, more intense and possessive than the others, but still carefully controlled.
All different expressions of desire.All are respectful of her boundaries.All unmistakably hers.
And in the soft, dreamy haze that followed, she could hardly stop smiling, as what happened after the lights went out marked the fundamental shift in their relationship.
She’d been lying between them, drowsy but not quite asleep, when she became aware of their breathing, the way it’d shifted from the relaxed rhythm of approaching sleep to something more deliberate.The scent in the room had shifted, too, taking on notes of arousal that made her own body respond with growing interest.
“Lauren,” Ryan whispered in the darkness, his voice rough with want.“Are you awake?"
“Yes,” she breathed.
“Can we—”
Ryan continued, “I mean, would you like us to help you feel good?Just touch, nothing more than you’re ready for.”
Her heart hammered against her ribs, but not with fear.With anticipation.
“Yes,” she said again, the word barely audible but carrying absolute certainty.
