The kitchen was still warm from dinner, the scent of roasted garlic clinging to the air. Music played low from the speaker tucked on the windowsill—something jazzy, something that made hips sway without asking.
Mara leaned against the counter, sipping wine. Her dress clung to her thighs, just a little damp from where Sage had flicked water at her earlier during dishes. Theo was at the stove, making tea with the kind of exaggerated ceremony he always used when he was pretending not to watch them both.
“You’re stalling,” Sage said, padding barefoot across the tiled floor.
Theo shrugged. “Maybe. It’s a good view.”
Mara smirked. “Of the tea?”
“Of you.”
Sage reached her first, slipping behind Mara with easy familiarity, arms wrapping around her waist. Mara leaned into the touch, head falling back on her shoulder, exposing her neck like an offering. Sage kissed her there—slow, playful.
Theo stepped closer now, his hand grazing Mara’s as he passed her the mug. “Hot,” he said, eyes locked on hers.
“So are we,” Mara murmured, setting the tea aside untouched.
They drifted together like magnets, gravity bending inward. Sage’s hand slid lower, curling around Mara’s hip as Theo leaned in to kiss her — a deep, steady thing, like he knew exactly how to melt her.
Mara’s breath caught, and when Theo pulled away, it was Sage who claimed her mouth next, heat rising like steam between the three of them.
The kitchen light flickered slightly, then steadied.
No one noticed.