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“You’re so cold—”
“I didn’t make it back to the cabin.”
“I see that.” He scanned the rest of the group passing us. “Julie went with them…”
“Michael,” Bash warned.
Heat flooded my body. Need replaced every thought in my head. A cabin to ourselves? Heaven.
“I know how you can warm me up,” I said, looking up at them through my eyelashes.
Grasping both their hands, I dragged them to the cabin. Neither of them put up a fight, so it was easy work.
A low growl rumbled out of Bash, and Mac fumbled with the door, dragging us the rest of the way in.
He grabbed my hips, walking backward with me until we fell onto the narrow bed that made the one in the lake house seem spacious. I moaned into his mouth, meeting his kisses with a matched fervor.
He tugged Bash over to us. We brought him into our kiss, turning it into a messy, chaotic, hot jumble of tongues searching mouths, hands tangling in hair, and a mashup of sounds coming from their throats that had fire pooling between my legs.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emily
Harriet’s number flashed on my screen, and I answered it.
We were barely home from the retreat, our bags still by the door, and the trill of my ring sounded foreign after the technological blackout in the woods.
“Are you all there?” she asked.
“Yes, putting you on speaker.” I placed the phone on the table and the three of us huddled around it.
“Good news?” Mac asked.
The line was silent.
Harriet cleared her throat. “I wish. I even thought of making up something good to tell you guys—”
“I’d rather hear the truth,” Bash grumbled, clearly already stressed before we even knew what was wrong this time.
To be honest, I was fretting, too.
She sighed, scrambling the phone. “The baker saw some article about the three of you and decided it was bad for her business to make your cake—”
Mac’s face turned red, and he pressed his palms to the table. “So, we’ll find another baker?”
“That’s the spirit,” Harriet cried, no doubt relieved Mac was open to something else, but she couldn’t see his face.
“Any luck with more tents?” I asked, hoping for better news with a new topic.
“We can just buy some—” Mac cut in.
“The company that makes them has the size we need on back order. I checked every place we could buy, rent, or have them made, and it’s been a bust. How do you guys feel about getting a few smaller tents and attaching them? It can still look nice and intentional if we do the lighting right.”
“Smaller tents are probably better,” I said, trying not to show how much the next sentence bothered me. “The guest list isn’t very big.”
“No luck with your parents?”
I glanced at Mac and Bash and my chest tightened. “No.”
