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“Ha.” Neither of them would force me to do anything I didn’t want to do, but the idea of them breeding me every time I was fertile turned me on too damned much for my own good. “You two like to act like you’re in charge, but we all know the truth.”
“Two words. Orgasm denial.”
“If my husband won’t give me an orgasm, my fiancé will,” I said archly.
“Leduc won’t interfere. We’ve been negotiating.”
“Playing one of us against the other isn’t allowed,” Loïc agreed. “It’s not healthy for our relationship.”
Loïc preaching about healthy relationships was completely hilarious, but this new camaraderie between them didn’t bode well for me, especially not in bed. I relied on them distracting each other. The last thing I wanted was to be the focus of their combined attention.
“No!” I protested. “We’re supposed to be the three musketeers—not two against one.”
“The other day, I read that orgasms aren’t good for pregnant people.” Valor’s tone was casual.
The rat! He wouldn’t dare!
“I read something saying orgasm denial is grounds for divorce,” I sassed, half-hoping Valor would punish me for it. He wasn’t used to me being bratty, but between being pregnant and Loïc being protective of me, I felt off-kilter, like our whole dynamic was shifting yet again.
Loïc whipped his head around and stared at me, his eyes intense until he realized I was kidding. “Please don’t make jokes about leaving us.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to remember not to.”
Content, he nodded and got out of the truck. I stayed put, watching in amusement as the two of them jokingly viedto open my door for me.
Valor managed to reach me first, since he was closer, and lifted me down out of the truck.
I’d been trying to downplay my admiration of the house to spare Valor’s feelings, but I’d never even dreamed of living in a place this nice. The yard was wild and was barely distinguishable from the forest around it. I could imagine tromping around with our child when they were tromping-around age. Maybe we could find room to plant fruit trees and grow vegetables.
“Your house is gorgeous.” I grinned at Loïc.
“It’s nicer than any of the ones we’ve owned,” Valor said with a sourness laced with humor.
“Don’t worry, the inside will make you feel better,” Loïc said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve hired contractors who’ll be here to give us an estimate in a few days. Anything you want, just tell them. Its bones are good, but you’ll have to work at seeing past what I’ve done to the place.”
Valor and I exchanged a look. What on earth could he have done to a house to make him look so sheepish?
He unlocked one of the double doors and pushed it open, then went to a wall panel and punched in a code. I stopped at the threshold, gasping. When I glanced over my shoulder, Valor was staring into the space, wide-eyed.
The entryway had a curved double staircase open to a vaulted ceiling. Despite the gray day, light shone in from the skylight, flooding the large space with peacefully drifting dust motes. The walls though—the ceiling. Every surface was filled with bold mural, scenery, portraits, an absolute frenzy of color and exuberant beauty. There wasn’t a stick of furniture in sight, but the murals were like seeing right into Loïc’s head. A kaleidoscopeof his life.
“You painted all this yourself?” Valor asked, urging me forward so he could see the ceiling better. How had Loïc even reached there to paint?
“I know it’s not how real people decorate.” He waved a hand. “It will all be painted to your taste, and from now on I will confine my artistic impulses to canvases.”
“But your art is beautiful,” Valor objected, his voice awed. “I don’t think we should paint over it.”
Good. I’d been thinking the same thing.
“But this is going to be one of our homes. I’m no artist.”
“This is all art,” I pointed out. “How are you not an artist?”
“And why don’t you ever talk about your art?”
He laced his fingers behind his back, looking uncomfortable. “I paint a little. There’s nothing to tell.”
The house’s main floor was airy, with high ceilings and an abundance of windows. Aside from his murals, though, there was nothing. It was like walking through a house that was for sale that no one had bothered to stage.
