“I wouldn’t even change that. I would do everything exactly the same. Each little thing that led us right to this spot.” Her expression turns solemn. “Even your socks on my floor.”
I throw back my head and laugh.
We tried. We really did. Socks just kind of end up on the floor when three men are constantly disrobing in a hurry.
And we do. Frequently. In fact, we’re probably only going to last another fifteen minutes before we’re dragging Elise out the door to the limousine waiting to bring us to the airport for our honeymoon in St. Lucia. That’s if we don’t get her alone in a broom closet or a deserted hallway first. I didn’t think the need for her could get any more urgent than it was that first week together, but hell if it doesn’t deepen and grow more meaningful with every passing day.
We never fail to fuck her in a frenzy. The kind she screams for.
As if she has read our minds, her voice is breathy when she says, “I guess we should do the whole garter belt ceremony. Which one of you is going to take it off?”
She’s teasing. We know she’d insist on it being all three of us.
At least, she would if I hadn’t already stolen it.
I take the garter belt out of my pocket with an apologetic wince, dangling it between the four of us. Three mouths drop open simultaneously.
“Gabe!”
* * *
THE END