As they entered the tent, every one of them was jittery. Davy wished they had some good weed, or even some beer, but at the same time, he was afraid it would muddle things for them, and they wouldn't be clear-headed enough for the experience with minds that were jumbled or hazy. No, that wouldn't do. So it was just as well that they were all sober and knew just what they were doing- would be less likely to have serious regrets tomorrow.

The flashlights had been turned out. Deanna realized it as soon as her head emerged from under the sleeping bag, as she'd been taking her clothes off underneath it. Davy and Peter were moving around, but she only saw their naked outlines in the reflection of the fire that was cleverly built slightly off to the side by Davy so it wouldn't be quite so bright inside the tent.

When they dropped down beside her, they pulled down the sleeping bag that was on top of her, and a moment later she felt their warm, bare bodies slide against hers. Deanna's heart was full of love, but she also felt lusty as hell, and the combination left her breathless. Being in love and feeling passionate for her man was something she'd never had the pleasure of encountering before. And here she had two men, not one, pledging themselves to her.

How much time had elapsed since Peter had flown into Maui? How much time had gone by since they'd been on Moloaki? She had no idea. She hadn't kept track of the days, because she hadn't wanted to know. She just wanted to bask in all this sweet affection from the two of them. She wanted it to be everlasting, but she hadn't said that in so many words to Davy. She wasn't sure how he looked at this. She knew he loved Peter because their closeness told her so, even if Davy didn't know it himself yet. She was in love with Davy, and felt sure she was on the brink of falling for Peter too. Somehow it made perfect sense—the three of them, as crazy as it seemed. And she was hoping that tonight Peter and Davy might loosen up more with each other. She was hungry to see it, hungry to be a part of it. Starving in fact . .

"I'll be right back," Peter disappeared through the tent flap.

"You like Peter a lot, don't you?" asked Davy when Peter was gone, apparently to pee.

Deanna didn't balk or even hesitate.

"Of course. I think you know that ship has already sailed."

Davy chuckled at her candor. "Do you like him enough though?" was his next question.

Tricky, cryptic question. Davy was an expert at that. "Enough . . . what exactly do you mean? I like him a lot—he's a good friend. If I'd met him before you, he'd probably be my best friend, next to Cassie."

"And more," Davy's eyes were positively shit-eating.

Deanna paused, sighed, and admitted it. "Okay, and more. I can completely see why you have the hots for him." She grinned, and Davy blushed.

"You aren't terribly upset with me for the kiss you saw on the beach?" Davy hated bringing it up again after seeing the fire in her eyes earlier. "It must have been . . . alarming."

Deanna nodded. "It was quite a jolt, but as you saw, I got over it."

"I'm also sorry," began Davy again, since he was now on a roll, "that I didn't tell you the extent of my 'crush' on him. Actually, I didn't fully realize myself until . . . until Pete and I were alone at his shelter."

"I believe you, Davy. My anger was short-lived. Frankly, I think I knew the extent of it before you did," she smiled again.

Peter reappeared, holding something in his hand. He turned a flashlight on briefly to show her a small bottle he and Davy had found on the sand a little while ago. In it were various colorful Hawaiian flowers, forming a delicate, beautiful mini bouquet. Davy and Peter had, of course, picked out the flowers. Peter had put fresh water in the bottle to keep them perky and fresh.

"It's from both of us," Peter smiled, and that damn dimple melted her heart again for about the millionth time. All her defenses crumbled. How could just one look, one smile from him do that to her?

"Oh, thanks guys. It's so pretty." Deanna felt like crying. It meant more to her than a very expensive bouquet like what one would buy at a flower shop.

Her gaze turned to Peter, and then Davy's bodies, which were both exposed, their wondrous erections saluting her in the muted light of the fire. Peter extinguished the flashlight in a hurry, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. He sat the bottle of flowers in a corner, and came to lay down with them.

"I want something understood," Deanna spoke up, jarring Davy and Peter with her abruptness. She cleared her throat and braced herself for what she was about to say. "It's not all about . . . sex. Not for me."

Davy and Peter silently mulled over her statement with furrowed brows. Davy stiffened, his posture refractory. He was taking offense, she could tell.

When he was able to speak past his dry throat, he said, "Do you think it's all about sex for us?" the astonishment that laced his voice was well defined. The guys' attention on her was so acute that she felt probed, scanned and scrutinized.

"No, no I don't. But . . . I want it understood that this is no small, insignificant thing to me. It's something I haven't even thought about doing ever before. It's important—and I don't want it taken lightly."

"I love you, Deanna. Pete and I aren't going into this carelessly. I wouldn't allow that. I wouldn't allow any guy to join us like this but Pete. I know he'll take care of you as I do, in more ways than one. He'll give you love, comfort, protection, affection, just as I do. He has an abundance of all that. Tell her, Pete."

It was Peter's turn to clear his throat, praying silently that he could articulate what was in his heart.

"I feel . . . like I might be falling in love with you, Deanna," he began, his boldness shocking her down to the bone. It was the only way to get across to her how serious he really was. "I'm already in love with Davy, and have been for at least a couple of years. I like the three of us together, and I can see . . . something . . . enduring here. Not just sex," he emphasized.

Peter was simplistic, as he usually was. Something Davy found intriguing about him was that he was intelligent and quick, yet he approached things in such a genuine, transparent way that he was sometimes mistaken for being shortsighted. He wasn't. He called things as he saw them, naturally, with little or no filters.

As if echoing Davy's thoughts, Peter said, "Micky once said I'm no bargain in the shade."

Davy smirked. "He was kidding, babe! It was after I'd commented you'd gotten too much sun. We were just playing around. Everyone knows you and Mike are the most intelligent of all of us. Of course, Mike did also say that not a one of us was dumb," Davy's eyes sparkled with even more sheen than usual. "And Mike doesn't give compliments freely." Deanna could see that Davy was allowing himself a little credit too. It was well deserved, but she had to grin at his love of patting himself on the back at times. Yeah, he definitely had quite the ego. After a minute, his eyes filled with reflection.

"What does this have to do with our prior discussion?" Deanna was befuddled. They'd really digressed.

"Oh, sorry, Deanna. We sometimes tend to get a bit wistful," apologized Davy. So that's what the reflection in his eyes had been about.

"I was afraid you weren't taking me seriously," Peter directed to her. "That's why I mentioned what Mike had said. I really mean it, and I want you to believe me."

"I've never thought you were the least bit simple-minded," stated Deanna emphatically.

Despite the detour in conversation, Davy was floored at Peter's declaration of his love for him. Being attracted to someone could be fleeting and often superficial. Being in love with them was a sharp contrast, and seriously sobering. He also knew that he'd have to reach deep within himself soon and try to tease his feelings to the surface, the feelings he'd been unintentionally concealing from himself and Peter. He hadn't been true to himself, much less to Peter with the ever trusting mindset. Peter gave Davy more credence than he deserved, thought Davy, feeling like he was a disgrace.

Peter spoke up again. "You don't think it's all about sex for me, do you Deanna? I don't want you thinking that . . ."

"I'm with Peter," Davy spoke up. "I'm tired of playing the field. It was smashing for a while, but now it's right boring."

Deanna smiled with satisfaction. It looked like the guys were making a commitment. Or at least they wanted to, and that was promising.

Give them time. Hopefully they would commit not only to her, but to each other as well.

That was really the only thing stifling the three of them—Davy's apparent resistance to let down his guard and lose his reserve with Peter. He hung onto that male pride of his with a ferocity that was solidly anchored.

Unless it was just shyness. She suspected it was both.

This love was a beast. It refused to be discounted. It dominated Deanna's every thought, always running in the background. She had all the riches she needed in the world here, with these two. She wanted nothing else. It stunned her with its fierceness.

Maybe the night and the shadowy tent would lend Davy the courage to expose his feelings that had been carefully cloaked for so long. His façade must have worn him down at least somewhat by now. His constant charade on a daily basis to hide what he felt from his bandmates. Camouflage, deception—how it must have weighed on him. He'd been pretending, not only to the other guys, but to Peter and himself.

When Peter flopped down next to them, Davy's mind was still in turmoil.

Deanna and Peter, in love with him. The thought didn't alarm him nearly as much as he might have imagined. Rather, he felt it gave this semi-solid, semi-shaky foundation of theirs a fighting chance.

Peter was scooting closer to them, his eyes sporting that sultry look Davy and Deanna were coming to recognize.

"Slow," Davy gently reminded him. The one word said it all. He wanted to say "easy," but checked himself. It was something he often said to a rambunctious horse, and that certainly didn't apply here. Wisely keeping it to himself, he found the thought comical in passing.

Deanna, lying on her back, looked up into Davy's face. Innocence to sensuality, playfulness to steaming hot, Davy's expressions changed as quickly as a color wheel aimed at a Christmas tree, all of them drastically different, seeming to blend and play over his face in frolicsome, elfin turns.

Peter was a lot more earthy. Honesty dripped from him, and where love play was concerned, he was almost painfully frank instead of impish like Davy, who could be a real tease. Also a little untamed when aroused, Peter, having had less experience, also had less control than Davy. Davy worked more on strategy, Peter more on instinct. They were the most enchanting pair by far Deanna had ever known. And she mustn't give them any false impressions about herself by putting on an overly coy act. She had been flighty, and it had not helped Davy and Peter with their own relationship. She knew what she wanted, and she needed to uncomplicate things for them so they could open their own doors more easily. She needed to let them know, somehow, how strong and deep her feelings ran for them. Actions could speak more loudly than a bullhorn . . .

Davy began to kiss her, very slowly and deliberately, setting the bar for Peter, who looked ready to ravish her. Deanna felt as if she might choke on her own shallow breaths when Davy ended an incredibly intense kiss that had intensified in careful degrees, starting out languidly and stepping up into absolute bliss. Smooth and suave, yet the underlying primitive side of him was catching up.

Glancing at the ocean through the tent flap to catch his breath to discipline and regulate himself, something flickered across Davy's face that she couldn't put a name to. The moon hit him at just the right angle, silhouetting his face like an avenging angel. She was sure nothing on this earth was as perfect, as beautiful.

"Are you serious, Davy?" she said, the words feeling caustic on her tongue. "How can I compete with all those others before me?" She was pursuing the conversation from before their kiss. She knew he was touchy about it, but it was essential to her to shed light on how kosher he really was about this.

Davy looked strained, grim, even a little dismal. He sighed deeply. "I can't change my past, Deanna. I'm so sorry it hurts you. I can move forward though. And I want to . . . with you and Peter."

She could hardly take a deep breath; her throat felt clogged. Hearing these words from Davy was her dream come true. It sounded as if he was taking it as seriously as she was. He was making a convincing argument that he and Peter were different . . . promising they wouldn't be like the others before them.

They practiced touching—Davy and Peter haltingly, Deanna eagerly, rubbing her hands on their chests and arms, relishing their feel. She observed how the guys would approach each other, and then retreat—sending out hesitant feelers. They were still very wary, their movements jerky and bordering on doubtful. She tried to release some of the mental pressure on them by acting very casual, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. It was the only way she could think of to lend them a hand, and in truth, it was as foreign to her as it was to them.

At first, it was almost painful to watch. The approach and retreat happened many times, and Deanna's heart was sharply tugged each time a touch or caress was aborted. She finally wised up and had them lie on their backs next to each other with just barely enough room for herself to wedge between them, above them and facing them, on her belly and supported on her elbows. Then she sprinkled kisses back and forth, light and easy at first, and then lingering, luxuriating in capturing the moment with her mind, lips and soul. Gradually edging in, and then throwing herself into the kisses until they became the kind where the ecstasy happens to your whole body, not just your lips. Sucked into it, no one offered any resistance.

Boldly, she granted herself permission to give the hands of fate a gentle nudge. She hardly knew herself anymore. She hardly recognized her actions. The realization soaked in then; if this were to be only for their stay here in Hawaii, or if it were to turn into a thousand forevers, she still wanted it to happen. If it was to only last for the remainder of their vacation, she was aware that her bright, vibrant youth would some day be gone, and this would be a memory to carry her through her sunset years. And she didn't want to regret not having experienced it. Yeah, it was worth the hurt she might have to endure.

She fervently hoped, though, for something more than a brief thrill between the three of them. She tried to convey that through her actions. The kissing was now wet, feverish and wild with little remaining restraint. They licked at her tongue, and she enjoyed the slippery silkiness, sucking and nibbling their lips, and then the thing she'd been subconsciously aiming for came to fruition.

Turning their heads, trying to catch her lips with their own as she teased them, going back and forth the way she was, it only took a slight increase of a twist of the neck, and Davy and Peter were suddenly, gloriously, kissing. They rolled onto their sides, and Deanna didn't think they were even aware of it. Impulse took the wheel. Deanna stayed right where she was, enjoying the best seat in the house. Lying between them, and discreetly sliding down a few inches, she gave them ample room to kiss without inhibition. And they did just that. Their lips just sank into each other.

They clutched each other as if they would never be able to touch again should they lose active contact. The little groans and sighs fired Deanna up so much she felt like she would ignite. Peter wantonly grabbed onto the back of Davy's hair, as Davy wrapped his arms around Peter's neck the same way Deanna herself did when kissing one of them.

She had to be in some kind of twilight zone. It was all so surreal. Her thinking was cloudy, misty and hazy, like a windshield that the wipers have not cleared completely yet. Smudged, streaked, splotchy. So she continued to take it all in, trying to commit every movement to memory. Trying to see through that windshield as if her mind was crystal clear. Trying to accept the reality. After a warm-up, she saw that their kiss had deepened, and they looked like they were in the process of devouring each other, beginning with their mouths.

Her belly clenched in excitement and keen anticipation. Her thoughts were disorganized and she had no idea what might, or should happen next. She eased herself from between them so they could get closer—skin to skin. She laid down to the side of Davy and observed. She thought about going to the other tent for a while, for their sakes, but somehow she sensed they preferred her attendance.

Impelled toward each other now, their bodies gravitated naturally, innately. It was so fundamental, so intrinsic. Deanna saw now how they were moving so much quicker with each other sexually than they would have with her. They'd been so very considerate with her, always yielding to her wishes. She comprehended now that they'd gone against the grain when it came to sex with her. How much they'd sacrificed, abstained when she'd let it be known what her preferences were. It was a great showing of respect. She silently thanked their mothers for raising their sons to have this kind of reverence for women.

Watching Davy's hips, she saw some slight rolling motions come into play. On the other side, Peter began some grinding of his own. The kissing reached a critical, demanding level as her fascinated eyes stayed fastened on her two men.

Davy knew he was in a world of shit, even as he welcomed it. Kind of a paradox of emotions. He couldn't quite push his doubt to the side, couldn't quite relinquish control. Yet, the incredible passion that Peter was made of was chipping away at the brick wall he'd erected against the fear of being gay. Peter, not altogether familiar with personal perimeters, or maybe just pretending not to be, pushed Davy's boundaries to the limit. Yet Davy granted him free rein, weakened sorely from the years of resisting Peter's sorcery. And that's just what it was—sorcery. Peter was like a wizard to Davy, the way he was able to bewitch him, enticing him with his own kind of magic.

Peter's hand was on Davy's back now, slipping to the base of his spine, rubbing smoothly, then slowly skating all the way back up to his neck. As the grinding increased, hands settled themselves on butts, increasing the contact even further. Just seeing Peter's hands kneading Davy's butt, urging him closer, caused Deanna's wetness to increase, along with her pulse and breathing.

Peter's lips sought Davy's neck, sucking his fevered flesh between his lips. He flipped Davy onto his back with a careless shove, and Davy was as pliant as clay. Davy's erection jutted up, twitching and jerking, and then, suddenly, Peter's hand was on it, his long, graceful bass and keyboard-playing fingers wrapping securely around it. Deanna's gaze was glued to it, the blood thrumming in her ears and in her sex.

Then Peter's hand began to move. Deanna knew then that Peter had flipped Davy over so that she could watch more easily. With the expertise of one who has satisfied himself in that way countless times, Peter manipulated Davy's cock with long, slow strokes, from base to tip, and tip to base, stopping now and then long enough to get an undertone of protest from Davy before continuing. He persisted until Davy's cock, incredibly, hardened even more than it already was, until it felt like a rock, and then Peter stopped the stimulation again.

Another murmur of hushed complaint from Davy, and Peter, timing it to perfection in order that Davy wouldn't come the second he was touched again, lowered himself in line with Davy's thighs, and began to flutter his fingers along the insides of them. Davy did not tolerate this well. It was pure torture to him—Deanna could see that inarguably. Davy's hips rose and lowered frantically a few times before Peter finally lowered his head to capture Davy's cock with his tongue.

Davy gasped loudly, a long "Ahhhh," escaped him that could almost be called a whimper. Deanna sensed he hadn't expected it.

Deanna felt an orgasm building quickly, and only then did she realize she'd been touching herself. The erotic scene had put her into a kind of trance that she didn't want to emerge from.

Peter licked a strip of skin up and down the front of Davy's cock, again, base to tip. Then he licked the sides, top to bottom, taking care to keep his tongue wet and slippery. When he began circling the head with the tip of his tongue, Davy lost it. He grabbed Peter's head, and guided it onto his jerking, suffering cock.

Peter smiled an instant before his lips closed around Davy's shaft. It tasted just the way Peter had imagined it would for all this time—luscious. Peter sucked briefly, lasciviously licking at the same time, then swallowed Davy, deep-throating him instinctively. The look on Davy's face was of pure shock, one to write home about, thought Deanna. Well, not literally, as her mother would not approve, but it was a sight to behold—something to indulge herself in. And indulge, she did.

Leave it to Peter, she thought. Only Peter. Peter loved to please as much as he liked to bestow sweet surprises on people he loved. He was all about giving. He was doing a whole hell of a lot of it right now. Only a few strokes of his mouth later, Davy erupted powerfully.

Deanna saw faint trepidation and apprehension cross Peter's face—the merest shadow of doubt, but as was his true nature, Peter overcame it. He recovered and bounced back like a champ, only coughing once or twice, and managing not to spray a certain substance, which would have been quite the sticky mess. All in all, he managed to retain his grace admirably.

Davy twisted and writhed, out of his head in the midst of something that was much stronger than pleasure. His yelps and hoarse cries would have caused Deanna to come for sure if she had not stopped touching herself.

At last, Davy sighed and held Deanna's hand, half gazing into her soft eyes, and half avoiding them as he recuperated, bashful, his chest heaving, still not fully at ease.

"I've always wanted a 'relationship' with you, David," Peter said in a soothing voice as he held Davy's opposite hand. Peter's brand of unabashed honesty was currently almost too much for Davy. There was too much crawling around in his brain.

"In fact, I missed you so much when you left to go to Hawaii that I had to jerk my tallywacker!"

Deanna's eyes went wide, and she tried to keep a straight face. Davy looked mortified until Deanna finally let loose and began to laugh, and then he could no longer hold back, and let his laughter cascade over them. And that's just what it was. A cascade like a gentle waterfall. Davy had a charming, heart-warming laugh that latched onto you and changed you on the inside, made you needy to hear that laugh again and again.

"That's quite an interesting way of putting it, mate!"

Peter was aroused almost to the limits of his tolerance, even though he was trying to be lighthearted, and Deanna's eyes took him all in, appreciating every little detail, the same way she often did with Davy. So much temptation to reach out and touch him. When Davy guided her hand to a certain part of Peter's anatomy, she knew with conviction and trust that there would be no rivalry or jealousy.

The penis in the hand quickly became one in the mouth, her hunger from watching them overtaking her, and Peter collapsed in ecstasy when Deanna's tongue worked busily on the head, and traced the veins, swirling around busily. He had never really expected this kind of thing to ever happen to him. Lust almost got the better of him; he felt crazed with a need to thrust. This was even better than he'd been led to believe. She discovered he liked the head sucked the most, which was a good thing, for he was far too large to take him all in her mouth. Strong suction on the head caused him to buck and moan, light touches of her tongue inserted into the slit sent him to the moon.

She licked his pre-come from the slit, probing him, and Peter's entire body shook with force. Davy was so engrossed with what she was doing to Peter that Deanna pulled back a couple of times in a silent offer for him to take over, but Davy would not venture forward. She, however, saw the unmistakable hunger in his eyes. He wouldn't allow himself to indulge.

Until Deanna licked the base, holding and caressing Peter's balls, leaving the head exposed. Davy finally responded then. After a few hesitant licks, he closed his lips around Peter's cock head and sucked, forming a tight seal. Deanna was beside herself with joy and arousal.

Together, they brought Peter off, taking turns, tongues entwining together between fervent licks, bringing him to a thrashing climax—the climax of his life. It went on for longer than Deanna thought possible. She imagined his beastly sounding roars must have carried out over the ocean. Deanna caught his release in her mouth and prudently offered it to Davy, making no secret of what her intentions were. They'd played this game before, but this time it was not his own seed, but Peter's. If she had forced him into it by tricking and surprising him, it might have turned him against it forever. But Davy slowly kissed her, experimenting in slow motion, pacing himself, and in the process, discovering he liked it, and received a good half of the ejaculate, which had been very impressive amount.

Davy had known she was going to kiss him, and he'd also had a suspicion she had a "gift" for him in her mouth. Well, he'd gone this far . . . The taste was slightly salty, a little bitter, a little sweet, not unlike his own. Deanna made sure he discovered it in very small increments so as not to shock his system. He found it very pleasant, sexually stimulating too. What an unexpected rush it was! He was overcome with pleasure.

At the end of that kiss, he said something under his breath about, "massively good." Deanna heard his words, and she thought her heart might sprout wings and soar into the heavens.

"Did you ever think we'd end up like this?" Peter, bless his heart, still wasn't mincing words.

"No. I was always sickened when guys came onto me. Was never attracted to a solitary one."

Peter had seen it too, with his own eyes. Gay guys were no more discreet with Davy than girls were. They came at him like wild buffalo intent on running him down.

The two guys gave her multiple orgasms that night that tore through her relentlessly. Some were back to back, which astonished and delighted her. With Davy's help, Peter learned about different positions; they experimented and Deanna's arousal peaked when the guys kissed or touched each other. It made the experience even more sensual for her. It seemed there was no end to the possible pleasures. One would be sucking her nipples as the other went down on her. Or one might take her from behind as she pleasured the other with her mouth. Her womb contracted so powerfully that she practically clamped down on them. They both went down on her at once, and the stimulation was so overwhelming that she could hardly move because the intensity of the feeling held her in a vice grip. Later, Deanna and Peter both went down on Davy at once, his cries heard only by night creatures that must have been startled. She hinted that the two guys might want to try pleasuring each other in a special way tomorrow, when everyone had slept and recovered. She added that she would be an avid audience. Both Davy and Peter showed rapt interest in her idea.

Even so, Davy was red faced, and Peter was greatly inspired, eager to love Davy again, but it was late now, and they all fell asleep, sealed in each others' arms.


They took her up on it, because, needless to say, Deanna awoke the next morning to see Davy and Peter turned around on each other, each working the other's cock in their mouths. It was startling, to say the least, to see her two guys sixty-nine-ing when she first opened her eyes, but she knew it was also the turning point for Davy. He had finally surrendered to it, submitted to his love for Peter fully and completely. And his inhibitions had gone as part of the process. Their hips thrashed with a rhythm long since gone as they reached the precipice. They shuddered and shivered as they came, within seconds of each other. Peter, still hard as a stone, then made love to Deanna as Davy watched on.

Peter, having had his second orgasm in minutes, collapsed onto Deanna in a sweaty, perfect mess. He literally stole her breath when he smiled shyly, his hair hanging down. Then, the tears flowed unchecked from his eyes.

"I'm the sentimental type," he gulped sheepishly.

That was when no doubt remained in Deanna's mind that Peter did, indeed, love her.

"Sorry that was so quick," he added between sniffles.

"That's fine, Peter. I need a rest! Really!" she emphasized it, and Peter and Davy went to wash up at Peter's shelter, leaving the last of the fresh water for Deanna to use before Kapena got there.


Deanna was furiously writing as Davy entered the tent later that day. She looked up to his devastating smile that still made her feel weak and a little bit numb.

When would she ever get used to it? Probably never.

She smiled back at him. Because she wanted to, but also because she couldn't not smile back. The guy could have just confessed to murdering someone, and Deanna would still not be immune to him.

"I would have knocked, but as Peter says, it's pretty hard to knock on a tent flap."

"That's okay."

"Writing, are you?" he looked pleased.

"Yes. It's coming easier lately."

"Inspired by something?" he asked, that devilish side of him peeking out.

"Uh, yeah. I'm inspired alright." Her silver eyes teased him.

"And it's safe to say Peter and I brought about the inspiration?"

She nodded shyly. "I think it would be safe to say that."

His eyes roamed over her, and it was maddening—trying to write with him so near. She was utterly distracted now. Davy did that to her. Too easily. Much too easily.

Davy loved the way Deanna looked right back at him, directly into his eyes, trying to read his thoughts. She had such a look of adoration on her face. More than he'd ever seen before on a girl. And he'd seen a lot. Lots of girls had come and gone in and out of his door and in and out of his young life, but there was nary a one that could do to him what Deanna did, even with all her clothes on.

"I've got to call my mother and Cassie," Deanna set her paper and pen to the side, giving up on the idea of even attempting to write as long as he was in here with her. He was a bundle of charm and sex appeal that was beyond beguiling, and she couldn't even form a coherent thought to put to paper.

"You'll be able to. Tomorrow. Kapena is coming back again tomorrow."

"A day early? But he was just here . . ."

"I may as well tell you now. We'll be going back with him to Maui." Davy's voice had softened, tinged perhaps with a bit of woe, and he paused, waiting for her reaction.

She gasped audibly. It's not . . . it's not time already, is it?" her eyes widened with dismay.

"I'm afraid so. I told you a little earlier than I should have, but I want to be sure you have enough time to do anything that you might want to do before leaving." He was hugging her now, her head nestled on his shoulder, and he felt her hot tears trickling down his neck and onto his chest. He held her tight, as if to protect her from the anguish of leaving this place of mutual felicity.

"Nothing will change, Deanna. We'll still be a threesome. It's what Peter and I want. I hope you want that too." In the few days since the night all three of them had been together, they'd gotten increasingly closer. They'd had long periods of foreplay during the day and very hot, fervid nights. They'd had long, involved discussions about everything from music to psychology. They had formed an intimate rapport.

"Of course I do. But what will we do without Molokai? Without the banana trees, the hibiscus, the beautiful clear blue water? What will Peter do without his tortoise?"

Davy burst into laughter. "I'll buy you a small banana tree you can plant where you can watch it grow. We could put it in the yard at the Pad if you'd like. The weather doesn't get too cold for it to be outside there. I can buy you a hibiscus house plant, and as for Peter's tortoise—well, we can find him one at a pet shop. We could hide it when Mr. Babbitt comes for the rent," his brown eyes danced with mischief at the thought. "We were once almost successful in hiding a horse from him, and would have—except that the horse wouldn't go up the stairs. A tortoise would be no sweat."

She shook her head and smiled through the tears. "And maybe we can leave one of the tents for the tortoise when we leave?" she asked anxiously. The tortoise had now taken to coming into the tent by himself when darkness fell. Deanna feared he'd feel lost without it when the sun went down and they were gone.

"Great idea. In fact, we can leave both tents. After all, we'll be coming back to Moloaki eventually," Davy said this last sentence with real conviction in his voice. She believed him.

How could it be that this had come about? So much had changed. How would she get around it with her mother? How would she tell Cassie and Derrick? Cassie would be delighted that Deanna had become such a wanton woman, so that was of no consequence, but Derrick would be horrified for sure. She wasn't sure how Mike and Micky would feel. These were just details she'd have to worry about later. Enjoy now, worry later.

"Okay, sweet butt," she snuggled up to him. My candy ass," she teased. He loved it when she baby talked to him. He couldn't say why, as he'd never liked that kind of thing before. In fact, he had detested it. But with Deanna, it was different, distinct. It was part of who she was. If she wanted to baby him, he would be accommodating, and he was learning to love every second of it.

He and Peter had some work to do. They needed to convince her that their intentions were honorable—that they weren't seeing her as an easy mark. They were of the same mind. She already knew the truth within herself, he was sure of it. But he wanted not the tiniest shred of a doubt to remain in her mind. He wanted all of her for the two of them, all her love, devotion, loyalty, and most of all, her trust. How could they, after all, give her the full extent of their love if she was not one hundred percent theirs?

They didn't know it, but despite all her questions, she had fallen hard and thoroughly, and her feelings for them were bittersweet and poignant. She was so very happy, yet so very afraid . . . She was way too susceptible. Oh Lord, she'd fall apart, battered and bleeding if she lost them now . . .