The central focus of the room was a four-post canopy-style Alaskan king-sized bed, draped in the same sheer material that covered the windows. A long, wide bench at the foot of the bed was just the right height and size to be of use in executing the items on their as-yet-unmade list. The colors were muted gray blues and white, bringing the colors of the Atlantic into the room. Through an open door, she could see into the en suite bathroom and the huge Jacuzzi tub inside.
The entire cottage was decorated with lovers in mind, romantic, cozy, intimate.
Tate stepped up behind her after tossing his duffel on the floor next to the bed. His hands gripped her hips for just a moment before sliding up and under her sweater. He lifted the cashmere as Roman stood facing them, watching.
She lifted her arms as Tate continued pulling her sweater up and over her head. Roman’s eyes were dark with passion, and Scarlet shivered in anticipation. Sex between them was still new, the three of them only coming together twice. Once, while locked in Walt’s bedroom and once the night of Selene, Luca, and Oscar’s wedding, though that had been more drunk fumbling and laughter than proper sex.
Their first time had been part of a game, an explosive, frenzied distraction from the “Baby Shark” torture. The second time had been the same—frantically passionate, fueled by too much champagne and the belief that it would be their last night together.
She could already tell this time would be different. The finish line on their relationship was no longer in sight. They had the rest of their lives now and instead of grasping greedily, trying to fill every moment with as much as they could, this time they could savor, explore, learn...fall in love.
Though their acquaintance had been relatively short, both men had already claimed a piece of her heart. Scarlet was a good judge of character. Her first impressions of Roman and Tate had told her they were open, compassionate, intelligent, driven men. Everything she’d learned about them since then proved that right.
She’d felt an instant physical attraction, but that had grown into something so much more over the past few weeks as they revealed more and more of their true selves to her.
And now...now they were hers.
Tate expertly unfastened her bra with a quick flick of his fingers, the lace joining her cashmere sweater on the floor. When his hands drifted lower to unzip her jeans, she placed her hands on his wrists to stop him.
“What about the two of you?” As much as she loved the way Roman was devouring her with his eyes, she wanted to see, wanted to touch them, just as much.
“We’ll get there,” Tate murmured, his lips pressed against the side of her neck, the warmth of his breath tickling and teasing. Her nipples tightened, budded, the impact not lost on Roman, whose eyes drifted to her breasts, a knowing grin tilting the ends of his lips.
“You’re beautiful, Scarlet,” Roman said. “Let us look at you,” then he added the word, “fiancée.” She was certain no term of endearment had ever felt so moving as that.
Scarlet’s hands dropped away from Tate’s, allowing him to slowly peel her jeans down over her hips and legs. She toed off her shoes as she kicked free of the denim. Then she stepped away from Tate, twisting away from them so that both men had a bird’s-eye view of her ass as she bent over to remove her socks.
Rising, she turned around to face them, her hands resting by her sides as she let them look their fill, amazed at how powerful, how cherished she felt in that moment.
“Your turn,” she said to Tate. Her gaze slipped to Roman, who stepped closer to their lover, unbuttoning Tate’s warm flannel shirt before slipping it over his arms, baring his six-pack abs, taut stomach, muscular pecs—he was a walking, talking billboard for male perfection. Tate had a Marine tattoo, the words Semper Fi emblazoned on his right shoulder. On the left, a smaller tattoo, a triquetra. Both tattoos symbolic of what mattered to Tate, what made him the man he was, the man standing before them.
Roman ran his hand over Tate’s chest, then unbuttoned his jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down. Tate was already hard, his cock outlined beneath the denim. She and Roman shared a smile when his dick popped free, the head poking out of the top of his boxer briefs. Both men worked together to divest Tate of the rest of his clothing.
Scarlet savored every peek of newly revealed flesh. Once she’d looked her fill, even going so far as to circle him, her hand lightly caressing his hip, his back, the top of his thigh, she turned her focus to Roman.
“Allow me.” She tugged his sweater over his head, then unfastened his belt, his dress slacks. While she and Tate had traveled in more casual clothing, Roman, ever the professional, had opted for a more polished look. Roman’s body was fit, lean, more runner than weightlifter. Unlike Tate’s bare chest, Roman had a light smattering of hair, something Scarlet took advantage of now, playing with it just before lowering her head to stroke his brown nipples with her tongue.
Tate shifted closer, running his hands over her ass, as Roman lifted his to cup her breasts, to pinch and play with her nipples, just as she continued to play with his.
“Bed.” Roman’s voice was gruff with desire. He reached for Scarlet’s waist, turning her and pressing her down onto the mattress. He followed, caging her beneath him, kissing her roughly. Roman had proven himself to be a patient lover the past two times, but now it appeared he was
