Page 122 of Bitter Truths

This is everything.

Tristan settles on her other side, his arm draping protectively over her. Freddie claims the foot of the bed, sprawling across it like he’s guarding her from that direction.

Weller moves a chair close and settles into it, as if he’s keeping watch.

We’ll worry about all the bullshit tomorrow.

But tonight, she’s ours.

And I’m going to memorize every fucking second.

23

BIANCA

I wake up drowning in warmth.

The kind that seeps into your bones and makes you never want to move again. Their scents… rich and complex and utterly masculine… wrap around me like a drug I didn’t know I was addicted to.

Then awareness creeps in slowly, piece by piece.

Owen’s arm is locked around my waist from behind, his chest pressed against my back. His breathing is deep and even. He holds me like I’m treasure, and someone might sneak up in the night and steal me.

Tristan’s wrapped around my front, one hand tangled in my hair, the other splayed across my ribs. His thumb moves in tiny, unconscious circles against my skin.

Freddie’s got my ankle.

Not just resting against it… gripping it. Like a fucking shackle.

They’re smothering me… but I don’t hate it.

I let myself float in this perfect moment. The hotel room is quiet except for their breathing, early morning light filtering through the curtains. My body aches in the most delicious way, reminders of last night painted across my skin in marks and soreness that make me want to purr.

The memory alone wakes a slow throb between my thighs, and I have to resist the urge to wake them up and request more.

This is what I’ve been missing. This feeling of belonging, of being exactly where I’m supposed to be.

When was the last time I felt this safe? This content?

“You’re thinking too loud,” Tristan murmurs against my collarbone, his voice rough with sleep.

“Am not.”

“Are too.” His lips brush my skin as he speaks, sending little sparks through me. “I can practically hear the gears turning.”

Owen shifts behind me, and I feel him smile against my neck. “Could get used to waking up like this.”

“Could you?” I turn slightly to look at him, and the intensity in his dark eyes steals my breath. He looks unguarded in a way that makes my chest tight.

“Every day for the rest of my life.”

The words hang in the air between us, heavy with promise and possibility.

Freddie stirs at the foot of the bed, his hand sliding up from my ankle to my calf in a slow caress. “Morning, beautiful.”

“Morning.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.

I could stay here forever.