Shiori Novella had always been a woman drawn to complexity. A writer, a dreamer, a lover of stories both written and lived. But nothing in her books compared to the tangled web of desire that had become her reality.

Jurard was fire—strong, dominant, a man who commanded any room he entered. His touch ignited something primal in her, an all-consuming heat that left her breathless. With him, she felt possessed, claimed, and cherished in ways she never thought possible. His kisses were demanding, his hands firm as they traced the curves of her body, worshipping her with every touch.

Flayon, on the other hand, was air—playful, electric, unpredictable. He brought a lightness to her life, an unrestrained joy that made her laugh even in the most intimate of moments. He was quicksilver, slipping through her fingers only to return with teasing words and a mischievous grin. His lips explored her like he was learning a language only they shared, his caresses featherlight, promising pleasure that built slowly, unbearably, until she was begging for more.

Shiori couldn’t choose. She didn’t want to. The thought of losing either of them was unbearable, and the thought of sharing? That was a different kind of temptation altogether.

The night it all came to a head, she found herself caught between them—Jurard’s strong arms behind her, Flayon’s eager hands before her. Their bodies pressed against hers, the heat unbearable, intoxicating. A gasp escaped her lips as Flayon nipped at her throat, and Jurard growled in response, tightening his hold.

“You belong to both of us tonight,” Jurard murmured against her ear, his voice a promise, a claim.

Flayon grinned, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I think she likes that idea.”

Shiori’s breath hitched as their hands explored her together, their movements in perfect harmony—fire and air, passion and playfulness, possessing her and setting her free all at once.

Tonight, there were no choices, no doubts. Only pleasure, only love, only them.