I’m still thinking about last night, I still remember the way she sounded when Tate and I had her together. Fuck.

I drag in a sharp breath, clenching my jaw, forcing my focus back on her, on the way she’s watching me now, waiting, her brown eyes full of mischief.

She feels it, doesn’t she? The way my body has gone rigid, the way my hands tighten around her waist, like I’m trying to force myself to stay in this moment with just her, with just us.

But it’s too late, I’m already thinking about it.

I’m already remembering the way her body trembled between us, the way she let go completely, the way she moaned my name and his at the same fucking time. I’m remembering the way it felt to wreck her with him.

Maybe I liked it, liked the way Tate pushed me, challenged me, the way I wasn’t just making her fall apart for me, but proving I could keep up, proving I could give her exactly what she needed.

Maybe I liked the way she responded to both of us, the way she lost herself, the way she let us ruin her completely.

Now I’m sitting here, gripping Haven’s hips, feeling my restraint slipping, knowing Tate is probably awake and that no matter how loud I turn this tv up, if I wanted him to hear, he fucking would.

I let out a ragged breath, dragging my hands up Haven’s sides, my fingers curling around the back of her neck, pulling her closer, my lips brushing over hers, my voice nothing but a hoarse whisper. “You drive me fucking insane, you know that?”

She smiles, her fingers tightening in my hair, her hips shifting just slightly, just enough to make me groan. “Good.”

Fuck I don’t even care who hears anymore.

I watch her, my breath uneven, my hands slide down her back slowly. She’s still perched in my lap, moving against me, making every single thought in my head blur into white noise except for one, slamming through my chest, twisting low in my stomach, making my cock throb even more beneath her, making my fingers grip tighter, making my breath come out just a little sharper.

Before I can stop myself, before I can even second-guess it, I test the waters.

I tilt my head, letting my lips brush over the soft curve of her jaw, my voice low, thick, dripping with something just a little too knowing. “Bet Tate’s listening anyway.”