The summer house wasn’t fancy — white walls, wide windows, sea breeze moving through every open door. Natalie and Reid had been coming here every year, always just the two of them. Quiet. Familiar. Home.
But this year, they’d said yes when their friend asked if his cousin could stop by for the weekend. “He’s driving through. Doesn’t need much. Just a couch.”
Callum arrived barefoot, tanned, quiet-eyed. His laugh came easy, and so did the silences. Natalie noticed him watching the waves. Reid noticed him watching Natalie.
On the second evening, the three of them shared a bottle of wine on the porch. The ocean was glowing with late light, and Natalie had her legs in Reid’s lap, her hair still damp from the sea.
Callum sat across from them, shirt undone, glass resting against his knee.
“You two always this in sync?” he asked, smiling.
Natalie shrugged. “We try.”
Reid glanced at her. “We like honesty. And heat.”
Callum held her gaze. “You ever add a third?”
The air shifted. Just slightly.
“Not yet,” Natalie said. “But… sometimes the moment’s right.”
She stood and crossed the porch — slow, deliberate. Callum didn’t move.
She knelt between his legs, reached for his glass, set it aside. Her fingers curled under his jaw as she kissed him — once, soft. Again, slower. Her other hand trembled just slightly.
Reid didn’t stop her. He watched — his expression unreadable, but his body leaned forward.
When Natalie pulled back, she turned to Reid.
“You okay?”
He stood and came behind her, kissing the side of her neck. “Touch him,” he murmured.
She did.
That night, they stayed outside — low lights, warm air, a blanket spread on the deck. Natalie undressed slowly, her body kissed by both men. Callum’s mouth made her gasp. Reid’s fingers kept her grounded.
They didn’t rush. She lay on her back, Callum between her thighs, Reid beside her, kissing her, whispering what it looked like — how beautiful she was, how good she tasted, how much it turned him on to see her let go.
She came in waves, held between them.
They didn’t sleep in separate beds.
Callum stayed on the porch couch for appearance — but at 2 a.m., she opened the door and pulled him back inside.
“Just until sunrise,” she whispered.
He smiled. “I won’t wake you when I leave.”
But he didn’t leave.
Not yet.