Page 117 of Twisted Trails
I melt into him, still warm and sticky. “It was perfect.”
Mason returns, and the care in his hands is so gentle, I melt even further. He helps me clean up his cum from between my legs first, then takes a clean cloth and wipes Luc down, too, his brow is deep in thought.
“Petitesaid she’s fine.” Luc grins, making Mason look up at him questioningly. “I can hear you overthinking from here, Pretty Boy.”
Mason finally settles down beside Luc, and I reach out instinctively, lacing my fingers with his.
“It’s true,” I whisper. “Ivery muchenjoyed it. It was amazing, and I’d love to repeat it soon. I mean, if you guys want that too.”
Luc arches an eyebrow and glances at Mason, who remains quiet, clearly still processing everything. Instead of pushing further, Luc simply strokes my back. The quiet isn’t awkward or heavy but peaceful, filled with soft breaths and the warmth of tangled limbs. For once, I don’t want to analyze it to death or break it before it breaks me. I just want to stay.
Mason’s thumb drags over mine, like he’s asking something he doesn’t have the words for. I squeeze back, my answer without a single syllable.
I told him that I want him, and he said he wants me back.
It feels like I belong here with them.
Maybe that won’t last, and Mason will change his mind. He still didn’t say whether he wants to repeat this. Maybe this thing between the three of us exists only in this moment, wrapped in sweat-damp sheets and tender kisses. But hell, I’ll take it.
Every second, every brush of skin, every quiet moment where we all just exist without the world clawing at us.
I press a soft kiss to Luc’s chest, tightening my fingers around Mason’s hand, and allow myself to drift.
Not safe.
Not certain.
But held together.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Alaina
I shove open the bus door and hop down onto the gravel with a crunch.
My head is still swirling with the things I spilled to my therapist this morning. Talking about the pain from the last seven years hasn’t gotten easier, but the weight has already shifted enough for me to breathe without feeling like I’m about to crack in two. I’m hopeful for the future if I’m already feeling this much better about it.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and when I check it, a small smile tugs at my mouth.
Élise
Good morning, chérie. I’m thinking about you. Hope today feels kind.
Élise has been texting me every morning since we left her house. Nothing dramatic, just softness. Steady warmth.
I like it way too much.
I send a quick good morning text back, then squint against the sun as my stomach growls, reminding me I tookmy pills on an empty stomach. Track walk is in twenty, so there’s no time to fix it. Fantastic.
Ready to stomp into another long day, I only make it two steps when a plastic sack hung on the side mirror catches my eye, swaying lightly in the breeze.
Weird?
I glance around, but no one is lingering nearby. Curiosity gets the better of me, and I grab it. Inside is a pastry wrapped loosely in paper—a fucking chocolate cornetto, the kind you only get fresh in Italy. Beside it, there’s a blue cornflower.
Bittersweet nostalgia slams into me, tightening my already bound chest. I would’ve known who left this even without the flower. Finn and Dane are the only people on the planet who know how much I obsessed over these pastries whenever the circuit brought us to Italy. I remember whining daily, begging for just one, while our team manager lectured me about sugar, training, and diets. Finn had been my savior, sneaking me pastries like contraband.
Warmth at the gesture loosens that tightness in my chest, but I push it away hard.
