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Lane looks up at me, his deep blue eyes filled with sadness. “What about the second reason?”

I give him an apologetic look. “Because I wanted the physical pain to match what you caused me. It took several hours over almost three years because of swim seasons. I didn’t want to forget how much you’d hurt me.”

Lane swallows audibly and I reach out and place my hand on his leg. “I’m—”

“You’d better not be about to apologize,” he snaps. “Don’t you ever. This is entirely on me.”

I give him a small smile and take my hand back. As soon as I do, Aldo slides his fingers between mine and squeezes. I squeeze back, giving him a grateful smile.

“I never forgot,” Lane says, placing his wine glass down. He chews at the corner of his lip for a second, like he’s debating something, then stands and unzips his hoodie.

I watch as he shrugs it off and tosses it on the chair beside mine. Then he reaches up and grabs the back of his green ‘coach’ polo shirt and pulls it off. My breath catches and I swallow hard at the expanse of skin bared before me. But before I can fully appreciate the swell of his pecs or the valleys between his abs, he turns around.

I’ve noticed the edges of tattoos around his biceps when he wears a t-shirt at training, but I had no idea what they were. An enormous dragon spans his back and shoulders, with waves crashing down his arms as though it’s diving into his skin. It’s stunning. A water dragon.

“Wow,” Aldo says, his thumb pausing its stroking on the back of my hand. “That’s epic.”

All I can do is nod, swallowing my disappointment when Lane pulls his shirt back on and smooths a hand through his hair. When he sits back down beside me, I reach out and touch his cheek, running my thumb over the faint blond stubble there. His eyes widen a little, flitting between mine, and the hope that lingers there is too much. It hurts. An ache deep in my soul from holding back from what my heart has longed for since he set foot back in my life.

Leaning forward, I brush my lips against his. He doesn’t move, frozen in place, as though the smallest movement might cause me to change my mind. But I’m not going to. From the second he appeared poolside at Franklin West, I’ve been treading water, torn between swimming for my life or succumbing to the depths.

It’s time to make a choice.

I kiss him again, a little more forcefully this time, and whatever fear was keeping Lane in place snaps. Reaching for me, his hand cups my jaw as he kisses me back with such measured tenderness it hurts.

Aldo moves to pull his fingers from mine, but I hold on tight. This is not a choice. I’m not choosing Lane. I’m choosing myself. And if I’m going to face my fears in these waters tonight, I might as well drown.

JOY

When Lane opens for me, our tongues meeting in a way that feels like coming home, I squeeze Aldo’s hand in reflex. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I know I don’t want to stop, and I don’t want either of them to leave.

We all admitted it. We might have used the word ‘like’, but a more appropriate word is ‘want’. Because IwantLane. And IwantAldo. I try not to think about the fact that there’s someone else I want, too, because there’s no point even going there.

As Lane’s fingers twist in my hair, I’m aware that Aldo hasn’t made another attempt to pull away, but I have no idea what he’s thinking. Honestly, I don’t know whatI’mthinking. Reluctantly, I break the kiss with Lane, but keep a hand on his thigh as I turn to Aldo.

I’m prepared for confusion, disgust, hurt or even anger when I meet his gaze. But that’s not what I find there. Instead, he looks . . . curious?

“Joy?” he asks, his voice a deep rasp that has me clenching my thighs together.

I glance back at Lane, who’s looking between the two of us like he’s just woken up to find us in his house. It’s freakin’ adorable. My heart in my throat, I lean to my right and grab the front of Aldo’s sweatshirt, pulling him to me.

He doesn’t hesitate to meet me halfway, kissing me in a way that has me gripping his shirt tighter, desperate for more.Shit.

My heartbeat thuds steadily in my ears. I have no idea what I’m doing right now, but now that I’ve started down this path, I can’t stop. I need to know where it leads.

The sofa dips on my other side and, for a second, I think it’s Lane leaving, but then his breath fans against my neck a split second before his lips press to my skin. My body sings, my head spinning, as I release my grip on Aldo’s sweatshirt, sliding my fingers up his chest and winding my fingers in his hair instead. Lane kisses up my neck and along my jaw, and then Aldo’s mouth is gone.

I open my eyes, watching as Lane nudges Aldo until he turns and catches his mouth with his. Every nerve in my body is lit on fire as I watch them kiss right in front of me, but I’m far from forgotten as Lane’s fingers tug at the strap of my camisole, easing it down over my shoulder. Aldo’s hand slides down my thigh, stroking and squeezing.

Breathing hard, the tiniest whimper escapes my lips. Both men turn to look at me, their eyes filled with such searing focus, I feel like prey. Aldo reaches up and grabs the back of his sweatshirt, pulling it off over his head. When his t-shirt comes with it, he tugs it off too, dumping it on the floor. Then he pounces.

There’s no teasing as he grips the front of my top and yanks it down, exposing my right breast and immediately closing his mouth around the sensitive peak.

A groan rumbles from Lane as he watches Aldo lick and suck at my breast, and I swallow hard as he presses down on his crotch before pulling down the other side of my top and flicking his tongue over my other nipple. Leaning back against the sofa, my fingers thread in their hair, gripping tight as they make me writhe with their teeth and tongues.

A muffled bang followed by a muttered curse against my skin has my eyes opening. It takes me a second to figure out that Lane has banged his leg against the coffee table.

“Can we take this somewhere more comfortable?” he asks, pressing a kiss to my lips as he rolls my nipple under his thumb.

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