8. Did You Hear Us Last Night?

8

DID YOU HEAR US LAST NIGHT?

The next morning, I slipped down the hallway, already filled with the scents of cinnamon and butter and roasting coffee. Beau and Flora's bedroom door was partially open, and I paused there. Everything I'd done last night sent a sticky flash of embarrassment through my body, especially since I'd woken up satisfied, practically relaxed. The sliver of open door revealed a passed-out, clearly naked Beau with one arm thrown behind his head and the sheets rumpled around his hips. I could see the tattoos on his ribcage, the rise and fall of his bare chest, his disheveled hair.

You're gonna come on my tongue, darlin'. But only if you stay quiet. Do you understand?

I kept walking, needing to shake off the white-hot fever dream of Beau and Flora having sex in the room directly next to mine. In the kitchen, I poured myself a steaming mug of coffee and peered out into a landscape made anew. The world outside was hushed and quiet, suspended in place on the very last day of the year. Idyllic piles of snow shone beneath a brilliant azure sky, surrounded by now-visible mountains. The sunlight sparkled in the nearby pine trees, and in the distance, I could hear the swift trill of bird song.

I cut and ate a slice of gingerbread cake, then wandered into the main room, coming up short when I realized Flora was curled up on the couch by the Christmas tree. She gave me no effervescent greeting or beaming grin. Instead, she was peering at the fire with a furrow in her brow, face drawn as she chewed on the tip of her thumb. Her hair was loose and slightly tangled, and the collar of her sweatshirt hung off her shoulder, revealing the fine lines of her collarbone.

My stomach dropped, remembering what sounded like an argument last night.

"Flor?" I said, head cocked.

She stirred, blinking, and offered up a tiny smile. "Mornin', babe. How's that ankle?"

I flexed it in front of me, noting only the slightest twinge. "Good as new or close to it. Also, happy New Year's Eve, hey?"

That got her smile to widen. "Why, thank you. It's only the best day of the whole year ."

"So I've heard. Got any new and enchanting possibilities you want to explore?"

One brow winged up. "Maybe. But I can't ruin the surprise. You'll have to wait and find out."

Then she patted the spot next to her, and I obeyed, a little surprised when she nuzzled into my chest for a hug. My arms came around her—the coffee staying in my mug but just barely—and I dropped my nose to the crown of her head. She smelled slightly of Beau, slightly of sex, like musk and sweat. It set off a craving so strong my arms tightened around her reflexively.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked. "Did something happen?"

"Bit of a rough night, but I'm better now," she murmured, pulling away but keeping our legs entwined.

I brushed the hair from her eyes. "I heard…well, this is kind of embarrassing, but I woke up last night and thought I heard you and Beau…arguing?"

A blush darkened her cheeks. "Oh, uh…no. We weren't arguing, but I'm sorry if we woke you up. It was more of an intense conversation is all."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked lightly. Internally, I was a twisted knot of conflicting wants and needs. Please tell me what's going on. Don't tell me what's going on. Please don't break up. Please want me for real.

Her gaze slid back to the fire. "I've been thinking about what we talked about yesterday. About whether your clients regretted getting married. I know you said you were sure some of them did, but did you ever secretly feel like they were making a mistake?"

Those knots in my belly twisted tighter and tighter. "Are you asking if I feel that way about you and Beau?"

She shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "I'm just curious."

I set my coffee down and worked to keep my voice sounding pleasant and not devastated. "You and Beau are meant for each other. Anyone who's around you for more than a minute can see that. And you're not getting married for the status symbol or to feel superior. You're taking up space, declaring your big queer love for the world to see and doing it in front of the people you love the most."

I expected to see her relieved. But she only tipped her head to one side, staring at me like I was the missing puzzle piece she'd been searching for. "We all deserve a celebration like that. A gigantic, splashy party filled with glitter and dancing and reckless abandon. You deserve to declare your big queer love to the world too."

"I know I do," I said quickly. "I'd love to start planning more than weddings and commitment ceremonies. I want to help with adoption ceremonies and coming out parties, celebrating anything people want. It shouldn't have to be only milestones. Sometimes the most ordinary of days are the sweetest. What if we danced with reckless abandon on a warm Tuesday in October just because the leaves are changing and it's beautiful?"

" What if , indeed," she said. "Is that the kind of wedding that you want? Something fun and freeing on an ordinary day in October?"

I hesitated, weighing which truths I could admit here. Unlike many of my clients, I'd only ever fantasized about the person I'd be marrying that day.

Or people.

"I'm not sure I can have the wedding that I want," I said as a blush crept up my throat. "Planning weddings for other people brings me a lot of joy though."

Flora studied me for a long moment. Then she propped one elbow on the back of the couch and dropped her fingers to my open palm, sliding them to my inner wrist. She began stroking tender circles there, setting my nerve endings aflame.

"Is it because of what you said yesterday? That you feel skittish?" she asked.

My eyes were glued to the circular movement of her fingers on my skin. "I'm not…" I swallowed. "I'm not sure what I want is possible."

Silence settled between us, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Those circles had a mesmerizing quality on my entire being, the movements so sensual I had to press my thighs together.

"Paige," she said softly, "were you awake after you heard us talking last night?"

"Yes," I whispered.

Her other hand landed beneath my chin, lifting my eyes to tether onto hers. "Did you hear us?"

If you won't stay quiet, I'll flip you over and press your pretty face into this mattress.

I managed a short nod. This close, Flora's beauty was captivating on a level I failed to understand.

Those fingers on my wrist traced up my inner forearm, up to curve around the ball of my shoulder, the side of my throat. Then she cupped my cheek, thumb dragging along my lower lip. "I wanted you to hear us," she said. "Wanted you to touch yourself on the other side of that wall."

The thrum between my legs became a raging drumbeat.

"And I know you did," she continued, "because we heard you."

A creeping flush engulfed my face. I'd been foolish to assume I could restrain myself, could somehow stifle the pleasure that ripped through me like a cyclone, demolishing every last barrier I'd carefully constructed. My unwieldy feelings for Beau and Flora resisted my every attempt at control, so it only made sense that my desire, too, was a wild and rebellious thing, refusing to do my bidding.

"What…what did you hear?" I asked.

Flora brushed her nose against mine. "We heard you come. Twice, if I'm not mistaken. And I wish you could have seen Beau when he did. God, just the sounds turned him into some kind of animal. Like a man possessed."

My eyes rose to Flora's, and the sweet inevitability of this moment had me grasping at a thread of courage. "Do you think about me when you fuck him? Do you…do you both think about me?"

Understanding dawned on her face. "Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea."

Then she captured my mouth in a kiss, sinking against me as her hands fisted in my curls. Her lips were hot, unyielding, the low hum from the back of her throat sending goosebumps along my skin. My heart galloped at the pure shock of it, causing me to gasp and break our mouths apart.

We panted, our eyes locked together. Flora's coy flirting had vanished, leaving worry and tenderness in its place. My galloping heart spun at this glimpse of vulnerability, the fear that she'd ruined something precious. I knew that fear as intimately as my own breath, had been battling it for two years now.

So I kissed her back. And this time, we didn't break apart. She moaned again as I deepened the kiss, my hands coming up to hold her face. I took her lush mouth, licking my tongue against hers. With a twist of my hair, she tipped my head to the side, dragging her lips down my throat.

"You taste so fucking good. I always knew you would," she breathed, then fused our mouths back together. I whimpered, swept away on a wave of ravenous lust. Flora shoved me back against the cushions and climbed onto my lap, straddling me. Our lips didn't stop moving, each kiss filled with so much liberated longing that my head started to spin.

My hands moved beneath her sweatshirt. Her skin was soft as my fingers roamed up to her ribcage. She shivered against me, nipping at my bottom lip as I cupped her breasts. Her head fell back, and I kissed a hot path down her neck, gritting my teeth at the euphoria of her nipples tight against my palms. She ground her hips down against mine, kissing me with a new ferocity.

Flora kept making these needy sighs that had me willing to give her every-fucking-thing in this world that she wanted—my mind, my body, my eager heart. Every sun-kissed daydream and lurid fantasy.

A creak of floorboards came from our left, and we jumped in surprise. It was Beau, standing at the foot of the couch in just his sweatpants, wearing that mysterious expression I'd seen so many times before. Lust, yearning, an almost feral possessiveness. Every single atom in my body screeched to a halt—my lungs, my hands, my stupid goddamn brain.

"Beau, you're…hello, uh…good morning," I stammered. Guilt surged through me like a knife, this resounding, dreadful acceptance of how far we'd fucked up. The one thing I'd said I'd never do—be like Em and Dorothy—and here I was, breaking all the rules.

Beau raked a hand through his hair, a devilish grin sliding up his face. "Good morning to you too, Paige," he drawled. "Now what are you doing kissing my fiancée?"