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At that, Jason winces slightly. His hair is wild at his forehead, his wet shirt plastered to his chest, nipples peaked with the cold. “So…in the theme of honesty,” he says. “I never joined.”
Donovan gawks. “Hold on—do I have frostbite in my ears?”
Jason leans back in his seat, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. I can see the silhouette of him—the sharpness of his chin, the bob in his pronounced Adam’s apple as he speaks.
He starts: “The Doctors Without Borders bit…I made it up for the Dr. Mazie show. I wish I had joined. But the truth is, they asked me what I’d been doing and I just panicked. I made up a story I made up so I wouldn’t have to tell anyone where I really was.”
“Where did you go?” I ask.
“After I finalized the divorce with Nadine, I felt…like a failure. I rented a hotel room in Jersey and didn’t contact anyone. For weeks. I drank myself stupid, slept, and watched Die Hard like…twenty times.”
He can’t look at either of us. He exhales a deep sigh. “I just didn’t want to feel anything. My heart hurt. I was so embarrassed. I couldn’t face my family. I couldn’t face anyone. I’ve literally never failed at anything. Second place is as good as last place in my family’s book. Divorce is fucking unheard of among the Kings. I didn’t want to be a loser.”
For a second, neither Donovan nor I say anything; we just let the hum of the car heater fill the empty space. Jason looks so vulnerable right now—cracked open under the moonlight—and my chest aches for him.
Finally, Donovan returns his hand to Jason’s shoulder and gives the other man a squeeze. “Jason,” he says seriously. “I’ve got something to say…and I want you to really hear me, okay?”
Jason nods. “Okay…”
“As someone who has spent his entire lifetime as a loser…it’s about time you joined us.”
There it is. That hopeful grin slowly returns to Jason’s face. “Yeah? I’m part of the losers’ club?”
“You’re damn right,” I concur. “Trust me. It’s way more fun here.”
75
Kenzi
We go back to their place. Between frantic bouts of kisses and touches, the three of us shed our clothes all the way from the living room into the bathroom, leaving little piles like Hansel and Gretel.
In the shower, sand and salt water roll off me. The hot water brings my limbs back to life. My fingers throb as they move from freezing cold to burning hot, sensation tingling through them.
And through me. Jason’s lips on my shoulders. Donovan’s hands on my hips. Cleansing me. Resurrecting me.
We towel off, but we’re still dripping wet when we stumble into the bedroom.
It’s strange—even though we spent the whole night together, I feel like I haven’t seen them in so long. We wear different masks with other people around; in front of Mr. and Mrs. King, the three of us had to be conservative, judicious. Here, in the privacy of our own home, we can love openly. Want openly. Crave each other openly, fully, desperately.
A version of myself that has spent all night caged up inside of me has finally been released.
Jason lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him as he carries me to bed. He kisses me, and I can taste the abandon on his lips. After tonight’s excitement, he’s a lighter man. Brighter. There’s nothing holding him back.
Donovan comes behind him and kisses Jason’s shoulder. Jason twists his head to catch Donovan’s lips in his own. The sight of them kissing always making my heart flip. But there’s something…different about them tonight. They’re easier with each other. More relaxed. I don’t know what shifted, but I do know it’s a good look on them. I feel a fluttering between my legs just watching them.
“I want it,” Jason murmurs, so quietly I almost don’t hear him.
“You want what?” Donovan pries, encouraging.
Jason wets his lips briefly, nervously. “Uh…you. Inside of me.”
Donovan glances at me. “Do you mind if I borrow your boyfriend?”
He’s being coy. I play into it. I trickle my nails up the nape of Jason’s neck—the way I know he likes it—and I feel him shudder lightly under my touch. “Only if I get to watch,” I reply.
“Even better—you get to help. Pass me a condom and lube. Pretty please.”
I dig both items out of the bedside drawer—a condom and a small, clear bottle. When I hold it up, Donovan nods and opens his palm for me to drop them in.
