I wish they’d stopped talking sooner. I definitely could have gone without knowing Gray had a threesome recently. The hottest moment of my life probably doesn’t even rank in the top hundred of his.

Even though I should probably regret kissing him, I don’t. It doesn’t even have anything to do with Gray. I took a risk, put myself out there. I wanted to kiss him, and I did. What followed doesn’t have to ruin that satisfaction of successfully crossing the line separating my comfort zone and things I never thought I’d do.

Sloane smirks. “That’s sweet that you’re censoring yourselves, but I’ve heard worse. And your sister is a doctor. She practically looks at dicks for a living, Noah.”

I roll my eyes as Emmett and Harrison laugh. “I’m going to be a cardiologist, not a urologist, Sloane.”

She sucks down the rest of her drink. “Same difference.”

“There’s definitely a difference,” I reply.

“Do you think something happened?” Harrison asks after a pause. “On his deployment?”

Emmett shrugs. “He hasn’t said anything—not that he would. You know how he is.”

“He must see all sorts of shit, right?” Harrison questions.

“Sup, boys?” Gray chooses this moment to reappear, dropping his tall frame down onto the leather of the curved booth. Right next to me.

There’s more space on this side, but it still feels like a deliberate move. Or maybe he’s just drunk. He smells like tequila. His arm brushes mine as he settles against the leather. I jerk away like I’ve been burned by an iron. “Boys” feels like a dig at me—although I can’t figure out what he could possibly feel entitled to be mad at me about.

“The boys were just updating us on your sex life, Gray,” Sloane says.

I keep my gaze on the table but smile when I hear her emphasis.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” she adds.

“Were they?” He says the words in an easy drawl but with an underlying tang of annoyance.

No one else seems to catch the undercurrent.

“It’s not boring at the loft when you’re in town, Phillips—that’s for damn sure.” Emmett drains the end of his drink and stretches. “I’ve got to head out.”

“It’s barely eleven,” Gray states. “When did you become such a responsible lightweight, Baker?”

“When I co-founded a business that requires me to get up at the ass crack of dawn on Sundays,” Emmett replies. “Not all of us are on a vacation, man.” Emmett’s tone is teasing.

“Vacation. Right.” Gray’s is not. Bitterness lurks beneath sarcasm.

I’m not the only one who catches it this time. Sloane’s eyebrows rise. Noah taps the side of his beer bottle.

“Can I catch a ride, Emmett?” I ask.

“Yeah. Of course,” he replies.

“You’re leaving?” Sloane pouts, but she doesn’t sound surprised.