The door clicked open again.

  Bharath stepped inside with his gym bag slung over one shoulder, T-shirt clinging to his chest, hair damp from sweat. His skin glowed with the kind of post-workout sheen that should’ve been illegal. His breath was still a little bored. He was tugging his towel loose, shaking his head.

  “I swear,” he muttered, “Jorge is trying to kill me.”

  Then he looked up.

  And froze.

  Three sets of eyes were already waiting.

  Mia on the couch, arms folded under her chin, legs tucked beneath her in nothing but a long borrowed tee. Marisol and Sarah standing by the bathroom in robes - barely tied, cheeks flushed, eyes gleaming with something that made his soul short-circuit.

  He blinked.

  “You’re awake,” he said to Mia.

  She grinned. “Mmmhmm. I’ve been very entertained.”

  Marisol tilted her head. “Shower?”

  Sarah added, “We already warmed it up for you.”

  He took a cautious step back. “I just showered at the gym.”

  Marisol smirked. “Not with us, you didn’t.”

  He looked at Mia, as if hoping for mercy.

  “They’re going to do terrible, unspeakable things,” Sarah said sweetly.

  Mia bit her lip. “I can handle it.”

  “You’re supposed to be the innocent one,” he muttered.

  Mia stretched like a cat, her shirt riding high. “I think you’ve corrupted me.”

  Marisol slipped behind him, arms sliding under his. “No use fighting it, baby.”

  Sarah opened the door, steam curling out like a promise. “Resistance is cute. But doomed.”

  Mia stayed in the doorway, not even pretending to look away as the girls undressed him like a prize they’d earned. He tried to stay noble: crossed arms, shaking head, muttering about decency and boundaries.

  Then Sarah whispered something into his ear-something about Mia watching her slide between his thighs.

  He flinched.

  Then shivered.

  Marisol licked his shoulder slowly, letting her robe drop, and said, “What if she helped next time?”

  He groaned audibly.

  Mia ughed-howled, actually-delighting in watching the noble lion tremble under the softest paws.

  His eyes flicked toward her once, almost pleading. But she just winked. “Don’t worry, Bharath. I’m just watching. This time.”

  He opened his mouth to speak-really speak-but Marisol kissed his shoulder, and Sarah tugged him toward the heat.

  “No,” he muttered, trying to resist. “Seriously. This-this isn’t funny anymore.”

  Marisol paused. “What isn’t?”

  “Mia,” he said. “This whole… thing. She’s not just watching. She’s participating now. With her eyes. With her body nguage. You know that.”

  Sarah kissed his ear. “She’s exploring herself, baby. Let her watch. Let her learn.”

  “She’s your sister,” he shot at Marisol.

  Marisol smirked. “Which is why I’m watching her just as closely.”

  “That’s not reassuring.”

  “Then stop moaning so loud,” Sarah whispered, fingers trailing down his chest.

  He pushed her hand away-gently, but firmly. “This is crossing the line”

  Marisol tilted her head. “But what if the line moved? ”

  He stared at her. “What if she moves it herself?” Sarah added. “And begs you to follow?”

  Marisol leaned in, voice like velvet. “You know how I know she’s different?”

  He blinked, dazed.

  “Because when other girls flirt with you, you don’t even notice,” she whispered, lips brushing his jaw. “But when Mia stretches on a couch, you forget how to breathe.”

  His breath hitched. “I don’t want to betray you.”

  “He’s back to the ‘betrayal’ phase. That’s loop three this week,” said Sarah smirking, but giving him a peck to acknowledge that she found it cute.

  Marisol cupped his face. “Then don’t. I want her with us. Not instead of us.”

  His knees buckled when Sarah pressed against him again. “That’s what I want too, baby. For you to be loved. Without guilt.”

  “I’m not a kid anymore, Bharath. I want to see this. To learn. To join. When you’re ready. I know that you feel uncomfortable to cim me. But I know what I’m doing,” said Mia gravely.

  He narrowed his eyes, but there was no anger-just helpless affection and the faintest blush that ran down his chest as Sarah pulled him inside the shower and Marisol shut the door behind them with a wicked grin.

  But the door clicked shut behind them again. And the steam swallowed his protest.

  The sounds that followed were scandalous. Moans. Spshes. Groans. Mia curled into the couch and hugged a pillow to her chest, breathless and gleeful, hearing Marisol shout something about “divine punishment” and Bharath mutter, “Oh god, I can’t take another round.”

  Fifteen minutes ter, they emerged, flushed and glowing.

  Bharath looked wrecked. In the best way.

  Marisol handed him a towel. “We rinsed off the sin.”

  Sarah added, “Mostly.”

  Mia cpped slowly. “That was art.”

  Bharath gave her a betrayed look. “You are in on this.”

  “Am I?” she asked innocently. Then she stood, walked past him, and just brushed her body against his arm as she passed, whispering, “Or maybe I just wanted to see what I’m working toward.”

  He froze.

  The girls ughed again.

  And no one stopped her.

  The off-campus diner had become their refuge now. Quiet, private, with a cozy booth tucked in the corner. It was the same one they’d used the day before, and the waitress barely batted an eye when they came in - though her gaze did linger on Mia this time.

  Hard to bme her.

  Bharath tried to act normal. Tried to pretend he wasn’t sitting in a booth with three stunning women, two of whom had wrecked him this morning, and one of whom had watched.

  But it didn’t help that Mia was sitting beside him. Right beside him. Her thigh pressed to his. Her bare leg visible through the slit of Sarah’s borrowed sundress. And her hand…

  He jumped when her pinky casually brushed his hand on the table but he didn’t pull away.

  Marisol saw it. Smiled.

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. Said nothing.

  Bharath swallowed. “So. Pancakes?”

  “Waffles,” Mia purred. “With whipped cream - on the waffles I mean. We can try it somewhere else next time.”

  He choked.

  She tilted her head. “You okay baby?”

  “Fine,” he croaked.

  Sarah reached for a sugar packet. “He’s still sensitive.”

  Mia leaned in, voice low. “You know, I’ve never had someone make those sounds before. In a shower.”

  Marisol’s fork paused halfway to her mouth. “Oh really?”

  Mia met her gaze with a smirk. “New standard unlocked. I think I’ll need a closer inspection next time. To make sure I don’t miss anything.”

  Sarah grinned, waving her fork, “Or maybe you should join in.”

  Bharath groaned, covering his face. “You’re all evil.”

  Mia patted his knee. “You love it.”

  He peeked between his fingers. Marisol and Sarah were quietly sipping orange juice, totally unbothered.

  He whispered to himself, “How are they being so cool about all this? How much longer will this testing go on? This is torture!”

  But they were chatting about their pns for css now, perfectly rexed, like Mia hadn’t just flirted with him about joining him in the shower in front of them. Surely she had crossed some kind of line there!

  He waited until Mia was in the restroom.

  His voice was low, serious. “Can we talk for a second? Like - really talk. Not with smirks. Not with teasing.”

  Marisol met his eyes, then leaned back. “Bharath…”

  “No. Listen. She’s your sister. I know what I’m feeling and I hate it. You’re making this worse by acting like it’s a game.”

  Sarah stirred her coffee slowly. “It’s not a game to us.”

  “Then what is it?” he asked, the edge in his voice sharper than usual.

  “You’re worried you’ll hurt us. We’re showing you-we trust you. Even with Mia.”

  He pulled his hand back. “What if I don’t trust myself?”

  Sarah smiled faintly. “Then we’ll keep helping. Until you do.”

  Marisol took a deep breath. “If this was just about her being pretty, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

  Sarah nodded. “We’ve seen you around stunning girls before. You don’t react like this. You don’t overthink. You don’t ache.”

  Marisol looked him dead in the eyes. “You ache for her. That’s why we’re pushing. Because it’s not just want - it’s her.”

  Bharath exhaled, looking miserably down at the napkin he’d twisted nearly in half. “It doesn’t feel like help. It feels like temptation dressed as trust.”

  “What happened darling?” Sarah asked gently, holding his hand, noticing how distressed he looked.

  “Just…thinking.”

  Marisol nuzzled into his side. “About Mia?”

  “About Mia,” he admitted. “About us. About how this whole thing can unravel if I give in to my feelings for Mia.”

  Both girls stilled.

  He didn’t look at them when he said it. “I know I’m lucky. Beyond what any man has hope to be. I know what we have is improbable. But sometimes I feel like I’m walking a tightrope. Between love and lust. Between right and wrong. I don’t want to risk anything that we have now.”

  Marisol’s voice was quiet. “Do you think we don’t feel it too?”

  “Then why do you push her toward me?”

  Sarah kissed his temple. “Because she wants this. And so do you. You just don’t want to admit it yet.”

  “I don’t want to want her,” he said softly.

  Marisol didn’t flinch. “But you do. And not because she’s hot or new or flirty. You want her because she sees you and you see her. We can see that. That’s why we approve of her. She mirrors you. That’s why this is different.”

  Sarah added softly, “And that’s why we’re not afraid. You don’t fall for just anyone, baby. You fall when it matters.”

  Marisol lifted his chin. “Don’t be afraid to confront the truth, Bharath. You do want her. And that doesn’t make you weak, cari?o. That makes you human.”

  “What if it makes me selfish?”

  “Then we’ll be selfish with you,” Sarah said. “Together. You know we don’t allow just anyone to be with you. You’ve seen how we shoot down other girls when they try to hit on you.”

  “They do? When?”

  “Typical!” huffed both Marisol and Sarah.

  “You seriously haven’t noticed all the women on campus throwing themselves at you tely?”

  “Not really. I just chalked it up to the same weird things that have been happening since our throuple went public.”

  Marisol and Sarah looked at each other with exasperation.

  “Bharath. You have been propositioned by at least ten girls that we know of in the st one week. Are you that oblivious? Mia is special. She is not just another girl. We think she belongs to us.”

  Mia returned a moment ter, radiant and giggling about something she’d overheard near the jukebox.

  The subject was dropped. Again. Like it always was. And it scared him how easy that was becoming.