Double Trouble, Triple Heat

Chapter 4

I change three times before settling on a dress.

Dark green, fitted, the kind that hugs curves without screaming desperate. I tell myself it's just dinner—two old friends cooking for a newcomer, nothing more. But my reflection knows better. Flushed cheeks, bright eyes, something hungry lurking underneath.

I want them to look at me. Both of them.

Dominic arrives at seven, exactly as promised.

He's dressed simply—dark jeans, black henley stretching across his shoulders—but he looks at me like I'm wearing diamonds. His amber eyes travel down my body slowly, and when they return to my face, something in them has darkened.

"You look beautiful."

"It's just a dress."

"It's not the dress." He offers his hand. "Ready?"

The walk through the forest is charged with silence and brushing fingers. I steal glances at his profile—the sharp jaw, the quiet confidence in every step. He's grown into himself in ways that sixteen-year-old Dominic only hinted at.

"You're staring," he says without looking at me.

"Thinking about how different you look from when we were kids."

"Better or worse?"

"Better. Definitely better."

The lodge glows warm through the trees. Inside, candles flicker on a table set for three, and Caspian stands at the kitchen island, sleeves rolled, silver hair tied back.

"She's here." His smile could light up the room. "And she looks incredible. That color is perfect on you."

"You both clean up pretty well yourselves."

"We try." He presses a wine glass into my hand, fingers lingering on mine. "Dom's been slaving over the stove for hours. I've been supervising."

"Supervising means drinking wine and giving unsolicited opinions," Dominic calls from the kitchen.

"Exactly. Supervising."

I laugh, and something tight in my chest loosens. This is easy. They're easy. Like slipping back into a friendship that never really ended, just paused for twenty years.

Dinner is lamb with roasted vegetables, bread warm from the oven, and more wine than I should probably be drinking. I sit between them at the table, and the conversation flows without awkward pauses.

"Do you remember the summer you tried to teach me to fish?" I ask Caspian. "I cried when we actually caught one."

"You made me throw it back." He grins. "Three times."

"It had feelings!"

"It was a trout, little star."

Dominic shakes his head, smiling. "You followed us everywhere that summer. Asking questions constantly. Why do the wolves howl? Why do you two always know where each other are?"

"You were fascinating to me." The wine makes me honest. "Both of you. I thought you were the coolest people in the world."

"And now?" Caspian's silver eyes hold mine.

"Now I think you've gotten more interesting. And more attractive." I take another sip, feeling bold. "Puberty was very kind to you both."

Dominic chokes on his drink. Caspian laughs, delighted.

"She's flirting with us, Dom."

"I noticed."

"Is that a problem?" I lean back in my chair. "You've both been flirting with me since I got here. Figured it was time I returned the favor."

Something shifts in the air. The playful energy turns electric.

"Not a problem," Dominic says quietly. His amber eyes have darkened, fixed on me with an intensity that makes my breath catch. "Not a problem at all."

After dinner, we migrate to the leather couch by the fireplace. I'm pleasantly drunk, loose and warm, sandwiched between them with no desire to move. The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across the walls.

"I used to dream about this," I hear myself say. "When I was a kid. Being grown up, coming back here, seeing you both again."

"Yeah?" Caspian's fingers find my hair, twisting a strand lazily. "What happened in these dreams?"

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would, actually." His breath is warm against my ear. "Tell me."

The wine has stripped away my filters. "You kissed me, usually. Or Dominic did. Sometimes both." I laugh, embarrassed. "Quick pecks on the forehead. I didn't know how any of it worked, but I knew I wanted it."

"And now?" Dominic's hand rests on my thigh, heavy and warm through the fabric of my dress. "Now that you're grown up. What do you want?"

I turn to look at him, and the hunger in his eyes steals my breath. He's not playing anymore. Neither is Caspian, whose fingers have stilled in my hair, whose body has gone tense against my side.

"I don't know," I whisper. "I've never..."

"Never what?"

The words stick in my throat. The wine made me brave enough to flirt, but this is different. This is real.

"Sera." Caspian's voice is gentle. "Never what?"

"I've never done any of this." I stare at my hands, unable to meet their eyes. "Not just with two people. With anyone. I've never been kissed. Never been touched. Never let anyone close enough to..."

Silence.

When I finally look up, they're both watching me with expressions I can't read. Not pity—thank god, not pity—but something softer. Something careful.

"You're a virgin," Dominic says. Not a question.

"Twenty-four years old and completely untouched." I laugh, but it sounds hollow. "Pathetic, right?"

"No." His hand cups my face, turning me to look at him. "Not pathetic. Never pathetic."

And then he kisses me.

Soft at first, testing. His lips are warm, gentle, giving me time to pull away. I don't. I lean into him, fingers curling into his shirt, and he groans low in his throat.

Caspian's mouth finds my neck, trailing heat down to my collarbone. Four hands on my body. Two mouths worshipping my skin. Someone's fingers find my zipper, and I hear it slide down, feel cool air on my back.

"We could be your first," Caspian murmurs against my throat. "Both of us. Let us show you everything, little star."

My heart pounds. Yes. God, yes.

But then Dominic stills. His hands freeze on my waist. He pulls back, breathing hard, and the spell fractures.

"Wait." His voice is strained. "Wait."

Caspian stops too, his hand still tangled in my hair but no longer pulling me closer.

"Why?" I whisper, confused, bereft. "Why are you stopping?"

"Because this isn't right." Dominic's jaw is tight. "Not like this."

"Why has no one touched you before, Sera?" Caspian asks softly. "Why are you really still a virgin at twenty-four?"

The question cuts through the haze. And suddenly I'm not just aroused—I'm exposed.

"Because I never trusted anyone enough." The truth spills out. "Because every time someone got close, I ran. Because my father left when I was sixteen and I decided if I never let anyone in, they couldn't leave me."

Tears prick my eyes. God, I'm a mess.

"Hey." Dominic's thumb brushes away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "Look at me."

I do.

"We're not going anywhere," he says quietly. "And we're not doing this tonight."

"What?"

"You're drunk." Caspian takes my hand, pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "You just told us something huge, and you've had most of a bottle of wine. This isn't how your first time should happen."

"But I want—"

"We know." Dominic's voice is rough. "Believe me, we want it too. But not like this. Not when you might regret it tomorrow."

"I wouldn't—"

"Your first time should be something you choose with a clear head." He leans his forehead against mine. "Not something that happens because you're tipsy and emotional."

Part of me wants to argue. Wants to kiss him anyway.

But a quieter part recognizes they're right. This feeling isn't just desire—it's fear, vulnerability, the desperate need to be wanted. And that's not a good reason to do anything.

"Okay," I whisper.

Caspian pulls me against his side, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. Dominic's hand stays on my thigh, warm and grounding.

"Stay here tonight," Caspian says. "Guest room. Just sleep."

"And tomorrow?"

Dominic's amber eyes hold mine, and something in them makes my heart stutter.

"Tomorrow, we talk. When you're sober. When you're sure." His thumb strokes my cheek. "And if you still want us—we'll show you everything, Sera. Everything."

The promise in his voice wraps around me, warm and terrifying and full of possibilities.