Page 111 of Better When Shared
"You were brilliant," Marco added, his voice rough with emotion that matched what I could see in his dark eyes. "Honest without being reckless, protective without being possessive. I've never seen anyone handle that kind of pressure with such grace."
Their praise should have made me feel better, should have quieted the anxiety that had been churning in my gut sincethe moment I'd agreed to the interview. Instead, it made the potential consequences feel even more real, more significant. They were proud of me for risking everything I'd worked to build, but they didn't fully understand what that risk might cost.
"The hotel," I said, reluctantly loosening my grip to step back enough for proper conversation. "This could reflect badly on the Bancroft brand. What if it hurts the Bindery, too?"
"Is it worth losing this connection to mitigate that risk?" Juniper asked. "It doesn't feel worth it to me. We can't predict the future, we don't know how people will react. We can only do what makes us happy and try our best to keep our businesses running in the meantime.”
All at once, a future spooled out in front of me that had nothing to do with the responsibilities that had always tied me down, and the only thing I could do was smile and hug my lovers.
"Gemma has agreed to take over effective next week. I'll need a little time to wrap up loose ends," I said. "So we'll need to stay in Bath for the time being. And maybe it's time to show you my flat?"
Juniper giggled and adopted a terrible British accent. "Your flat. So posh and British. Do you want to fuck me in your flat, guv'nor."
"Only if you never use that accent again," I teased.
Marco snorted. "You'd fuck her even if she spoke only in that accent. She's irresistible, my wife. Terrible at accents, but irresistible."
I beamed at both of them, feeling happy in a way I wasn't sure I ever had. "Both of you are. You wore me down with your filthy minds and naughty hijinks. And now I'm not sure I'll ever have enough."
Chapter 19
Tristan
I couldn’t get them to my flat fast enough.
It was my sanctuary, the only space that truly felt mine, and suddenly, I desperately, frantically, wanted to show them it. I rarely brought people here—how could I explain all of the yarn to someone who didn’t know about my secret passion? Juniper and Marco knew more about me in a short few weeks than most of my lovers had learned in months or even years.
"This is beautiful," Juniper breathed, stepping past me into the main living area with the kind of reverent attention she usually reserved for architectural details worth preserving. Her dark eyes tracked over custom-built bookshelves, the carefully curated art collection, furniture chosen for comfort rather than impression.
Marco followed close behind, his architect's gaze cataloging proportions and design choices with obvious appreciation.
"The scale is perfect," he said, moving toward the tall windows that overlooked the city lights of Bath. "Historic bones with contemporary comfort. Very you. Well, maybe it’d be more you if those shelves were filled with yarn.”
I felt my cheeks heat. “They were. Shortly before we met, I had a date, and if it went well, I was planning to bring her back here. In a panic, I stashed all of my yarn and crochet projects in the conference room closet at work.”
“That’s why they were there?” Juniper asked laughing. “Well, since your crochet is what brought you to us, I think you should display them proudly. This shelf would be lovely filled with a rainbow of yarn.”
She ran a hand over the shelf, smiling. They moved through my space with the kind of easy familiarity that should have felt presumptuous but somehow felt right. Juniper traced patterns on the Turkish rug with bare toes, having kicked off her shoes the moment she'd crossed the threshold.
Marco examined the framed photographs on my mantle—family pictures I'd hidden from public view, images of the inn during better days, even a few shots of architectural details that had caught my fancy during various travels.
"Show us," Juniper said, settling onto the sofa with movements that made her dress ride up to reveal brown thighs that still bore faint marks from our earlier encounters. "I want to see how your hands work when you're creating instead of just taking things apart."
The request sent heat racing through my nervous system, something deeply erotic about the idea of performing my most private ritual while they watched. But before I could reach for my supplies, before I could demonstrate the skill that had consumed countless hidden hours, Marco's hands found my shoulders from behind.
"Later," he said, his breath warm against my neck in ways that made my knees weak. "Right now I want to celebrate what you did today. That interview, the way you claimed us publicly."
His mouth found the sensitive spot just below my ear, teeth scraping skin that felt hypersensitive to every touch. The contact sent electricity racing down my spine, made my cock twitch against expensive fabric as I processed what he was really saying.
"You were magnificent," Juniper added, rising from the sofa to press against my front while Marco's solid presence anchored my back. "Honest and brave and protective all at once. Do you have any idea what that did to us? Watching you refuse to apologize for wanting us?"
Their bodies bracketed mine with heat and promise, Juniper's hands finding my tie while Marco's fingers worked at my shirt buttons with practiced efficiency. The careful grooming I'd maintained for the interview began to dissolve under their determined assault, expensive fabric parting to reveal skin that felt desperate for their touch.
"That reporter," Juniper continued, her voice dropping to something rougher as she loosened my tie completely. "Trying to make you ashamed of this. Of us. And you just looked at her and said you hoped we'd consider making it permanent."
The memory of that moment sent fresh heat flooding through my veins—the weight of public declaration, the risk I'd taken by choosing honesty over protection. But with their hands on my body, with their obvious appreciation for the choice I'd made, it felt like the smartest decision of my life.
My shirt fell away under their combined efforts, followed by the tie that had represented professional composure just hours ago. When Juniper's palms flattened against my chest, when her thumbs found my nipples and circled them with deliberate pressure, I couldn't contain the groan that tore from my throat.
