42. Brielle

I'm relaxed on the couch, my gaze shifting between my dad and Levi. Xavier and his parents have gone home, and Dad's sprawled out in his big chair, a bottle dangling from his fingers. The game is long over, and the TV flashes with garish colors, the volume of the adult animation turned low but still a buzz in the background.

I slip my phone from the pocket of my jeans, the screen lighting up my face in the dim room. The blue glow is a portal away from the heavy air laden with my dad's snores and the faint sound of lewd jokes from the TV show.

My thumb glides over the glass, an automatic motion. Videos autoplay, a blur of colors and sounds. I pause on a clip of a cat doing something ridiculously cute, and I smile despite myself. It feels good, light, a tiny escape hatch from the weight of the evening.

I scroll further, stopping at posts from people I haven't seen in years. High school friends, mostly. Lives moved on, caught in the frozen smiles of digital memory. I like a post here, a picture there. It's a silent nod across time and space—I see you, I remember.

"Hey." Levi's voice is a whisper, close.

I jump, my heart thudding against my ribs. I didn't even hear him approach. He plops down beside me on the couch, our thighs touching. The warmth from his leg seeps through the fabric of my pants, drawing a sharp contrast to the coolness of my phone.

"Your dad's asleep," he murmurs, his breath tickling my ear.

I glance over at Dad, and sure enough, his head has lolled to the side, cartoonish snores now competing with the animated antics on screen. A sense of relief washes over me, followed immediately by a prickling awareness of Levi's proximity.

"Thanks for letting me know," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, as if louder words might shatter the fragile peace of the moment.

Levi's hand wraps around my arm, firm, insistent. It pulls me back to reality, away from the digital world I was lost in.

"Wait," I protest, tugging slightly, but he doesn't let go. "What are you doing?"

His eyes lock onto mine, intense and unreadable. "We need to talk." There's an urgency in his voice that I can't ignore.

"About what?" I ask, a frown creasing my forehead. Confusion clouds my mind. Why is Levi acting so serious all of a sudden?

"About you," he says, and then pauses, as if choosing his next words carefully. "And Grayson. And Conrad."

I freeze. A sliver of ice runs down my spine. This isn't a conversation I expect—or want—to have with Levi. Not here, not now.

"Why did you agree to be with them?" He doesn't wait for my permission to dive into such personal territory. His gaze probes, searching for something I'm not sure I'm ready to give.

"Is it any of your business?" I counter, trying to sound more defiant than I feel. My heart races, pounding a frantic rhythm against my chest.

"Maybe it is," Levi says, holding my gaze with an intensity that tells me he's not backing down. "Maybe it isn't. But I want to know."

I'm caught off guard by the raw curiosity in his voice, the way he looks at me like he genuinely cares about the answer. It's disconcerting, this side of Levi I haven't seen before.

"Because…" I start, but the words stick in my throat. How do you explain something you're still trying to understand yourself? How do you tell someone that your heart led you somewhere unexpected?

"Because what?" Levi prompts, his thumb stroking over the skin of my wrist in a touch that's both comforting and distracting.

"Because they make me happy," I finally admit, my voice barely above a whisper. It's the simplest truth, the core of all the tangled emotions and desires that I've been navigating.

"Both of them?" Levi's question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications I'm not sure I want to explore.

"Both of them," I confirm, meeting his gaze squarely.

"Okay." Levi nods slowly, as if digesting my words, as if they're pieces of a puzzle he's trying to solve. His grip on my arm loosens, but he doesn't pull away.

"Okay," I echo, my heartbeat still thrumming loudly in my ears. The tension lingers, a palpable thing, and I'm left wondering what this conversation means for Levi and for me.

"Levi, why do you even care?" I ask, the hush in my voice a stark contrast to the loud snoring from the chair where Dad's passed out. My eyes don't leave his, searching for something, anything that might explain his sudden interest in my love life.

He doesn't answer right away, just studies me with those intense gray eyes that seem to see too much. The air feels heavy, charged with something unspoken. I can feel the warmth of his body so close to mine, and it sends a shiver down my spine despite myself.

"Because," he starts, then stops, as if he's choosing his words carefully. "I just do."

It's not an answer, not really, but before I can press further, I feel his hand on my knee. It's a simple touch, but it sparks a trail of heat that seems to leap straight to my core. I glance down, watching his fingers start a lazy, almost absent-minded journey up my leg, hidden beneath the safety of the blanket.

Anticipation curls low in my belly. I know I should stop him, push his hand away, but I'm frozen, caught between what I know is right and the dangerous allure of the forbidden. His touch is featherlight, yet every inch his fingers travel leaves a burning path in their wake.

"Levi…" The word is a breath, a plea, a warning. But his name on my lips only seems to encourage him further.

His hand reaches higher, a whisper against the thin fabric of my shorts. I jerk, my eyes snapping wide as a jolt of shock races through me. He shouldn't be doing this. Not here, not now.

"Levi!" My voice is a hiss, a mix of disbelief and alarm.

"Shh." His voice is low, a murmur meant to soothe, but it's like oil on fire.

I glance sideways, ensuring Dad's still asleep. My heart hammers against my ribs, fear tangling with an unwanted surge of excitement. Levi's fingers brush more boldly now, pressing where they have no right. No matter how my body might betray me, my mind screams that this is wrong.

"Stop." It's firmer this time, a command laced with desperation.

He grins at me and it makes me shiver, his fingers still stroking me through my shorts. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he says.

I stifle a moan. I'm afraid he can feel the wetness of my arousal even through the layers of fabric. How is he doing this to me, with only a touch?

"Come here," he says, his voice husky. Strong arms slide beneath me, lifting me effortlessly from the couch. I gasp, glancing at Dad to make sure he's still out, and then allow Levi to carry me without protest. I know I can't stop this now.

"Bedroom?" he asks, his breath warm against my ear.

"Upstairs…last door on the left," I manage to murmur, the words slurring together.

We move as one, Levi carrying me with steady steps. Each footfall is a thud that echoes in the quiet house, a counterpoint to the still-rapid beat of my heart. The world outside this cocoon he's created seems distant, unreal.

But Levi, he's here. He's real. And right now, that's all that matters.

Levi ascends the stairs with ease, the strength in his arms unwavering. I'm half-aware of the paintings on the walls blurring past, the soft carpet under his feet. We reach the landing, and he navigates through the dimly lit hallway with a certainty that suggests he's noted every detail of this house in his previous visits.

"Here," I whisper as we approach the last door on the left. He nudges it open with his foot, and a sliver of moonlight spills across the room, casting long shadows on the floor. The familiar scent of lavender and vanilla greets us, wrapping around me like a comforting embrace.

Levi lowers me onto the bed, and I sink into the cool sheets, my body still humming with arousal and unfulfilled desire. I watch him, his silhouette framed by the doorway, the moonlight painting him in shades of silver and shadow. There's a question in his eyes, a silent inquiry that speaks louder than words.

"Stay," I find myself saying before I can think better of it. It's a simple word, but it hangs heavy between us, laden with implications and unspoken promises.

Levi doesn't answer, but the corner of his lips tilts up in a knowing smile. He shuts the door behind him with a soft click, and the room is ours, sealed away from the rest of the world. As he joins me on the bed, pulling me into the shelter of his arms, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

The night wraps around us, a cocoon of whispers and warmth. And for now, everything else fades away—there's just Levi and me, and the silent understanding that whatever this is, it's just beginning.

Heat radiates off Levi's body, enveloping me in a sudden and overwhelming warmth. My breath hitches when his fingers trail down my arm, gentle yet insistent. His touch sends shivers across my skin, despite the inner turmoil brewing within me.

"Levi, I…" My voice is a whisper, a shadow of hesitance in the dim glow of my bedroom. "I can't do this. It's not right. Grayson…Conrad…I'm with them."

There's a beat of silence, heavy and expectant. His face is inches from mine, eyes piercing through the darkness, reading my conflict as if it were an open book.

"Brielle," he murmurs, his voice low and steady, "I know them. Conrad and Grayson, they're my best friends. I may not have known the details of the arrangement, but I know they expect me to be a part of it too—that's how it works, with us. There's no cheating here."

My heart pounds, each beat a hammer against my ribs. The idea that this was all premeditated, that Grayson and Conrad would have given their silent nods to Levi's hands, his mouth, his body joining ours, it both terrifies and thrills me.

"But—"

"Shh." He presses a finger to my lips, silencing me. "No more doubts. Let's just feel."

And then he's kissing me, a kiss so deep and consuming that my protests die on my lips. His hands roam over me, claiming every inch as if he has every right to.

And maybe he does. Maybe we all belong to each other in a way that defies conventions and expectations.

The tension between us crackles, igniting into an undeniable blaze of desire. We remove our clothes, his fingers resuming the work they began downstairs on the couch, this time without the barrier of my shorts. Soon I'm shuddering and gasping and begging for him to fill me.

Levi's body melds against mine as he guides me back onto the bed. His weight pins me down, comforting and inescapable. As he slides inside me, I gasp at the fullness, the rightness, the sheer intensity of the connection that binds us together.

"Levi," I breathe out, lost in the rhythm he sets, a dance of bodies and hearts intertwined. My nails dig into his back, urging him closer, deeper, as if I could somehow merge our very souls with this act.

He moves with a fierce tenderness, a contradiction that speaks to the complexity of what we share. Each thrust is a word, a sentence, a paragraph in the story we're writing together—one of passion, trust, and an unconventional love that breaks all the rules.

"Grayson…Conrad…" The names are a prayer, an absolution as Levi and I move together in the quiet night. They're with us, in this moment, part of the tapestry we weave with our shared pleasure.

"Let go, Brielle," Levi whispers against my neck, his breath hot and urgent. "Just be here, with me."

And I do. I let go of the hesitation, the guilt, the fear. I embrace the present, the sensation, the man who drives me to new heights of ecstasy. Levi and I are one, and in this tangled web of relationships, I find a freedom I never knew possible.

"Levi," I moan, gripping him tighter, giving myself over to the moment, to him, to us. The world outside fades away until there's nothing but the beat of our hearts and the heat of our bodies joined as one.

Panting, spent, I collapse onto the soft sheets, the room still spinning from the intensity of our connection. Levi's chest heaves against my back, his breath warm on my skin. He doesn't pull away—not yet—and I'm grateful for the weight of him, grounding me.

"Wow," is all I manage, a tremor in my voice betraying the aftershocks that ripple through me.

"More than wow," Levi murmurs, his lips tracing the curve of my shoulder. His words are a feather touch, sending shivers down my spine.

He shifts, and for a moment I fear the end of our embrace, the return to reality. But instead, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me into his chest, his heartbeat steady against my back. It's protective, possessive, and inexplicably comforting.

"Stay," I whisper without thinking, not ready to break the cocoon of warmth we've created.

"Wasn't planning on leaving," he replies, his voice low and reassuring. Even though it's dark, I can feel his smile against my skin.

I nestle closer, our legs tangling beneath the blanket. The remnants of our frenzied passion slowly settle into something softer, quieter. His fingers draw lazy circles on my arm, soothing and sensual all at once.

"Levi?" I ask, the name feeling both foreign and familiar on my lips.

"Hmm?" His response vibrates through me.

"Thank you." It's simple, but it holds the weight of my gratitude, my confusion, my wonder.

"For what?" There's amusement in his tone, a playful note that makes me smile despite everything.

"Everything," I say, knowing he understands. Understands that this, us, is something different, something more.

"Anytime, Brielle." His words are a vow, a promise that lingers in the air between us.

The rhythm of his breathing slows, deepens. His grip remains firm, yet gentle—a silent oath that he's here, he's with me. My eyelids grow heavy, my body sinking further into the mattress as sleep beckons.

"Goodnight, Levi," I whisper, already half-lost to the dreams waiting to claim me.

"Goodnight, Brielle," he says, his chest rumbling against my back.

And with that, I let go, surrendering to the night, safe in the circle of Levi's arms. The world outside fades to nothing, and for now, it's just the two of us—drifting, drifting off to sleep.