“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Connor’s information stream is one-way, I guess.

He waves a hand, as if to say it doesn’t matter, but of course, I’m curious.

“And Connor has been my best friend my whole life.”

“Also fair,” I say. “But Brody?”

“Yes?” he says.

“I don’t care.”

And then I kiss him.

Brody

Rachel’s mouth is soft and lush and hungry. She kisses me like she can’t get enough, moaning her pleasure, and I kiss her right back, licking into the softness, into the wine-taste of her. Her hands come up, thrusting into my hair, and the pull on my scalp tugs a hundred other sensitive places. I was hard before her lips touched mine, but now I’m hard enough that it hurts, the best-ever ache.

She crawls over and straddles me, pressing her heat against my throbbing cock.

Holy shit, she feels good. Her weight where I want it, my hands suddenly filled with her curves. I yank her close, closer, and thrust up against her heat.

She’s frantic, tipping her hips, rubbing along my length.

I break the kiss and say, breathless, “Keep that up, and I’m going to come in my pants like a teenager.”

“I want that. I want to make you feel good.”

“You’re already making me feel good. Kiss me again.”

We kiss and kiss. I can’t get enough. It’s a good thing I didn’t know any of this about Rachel—how soft her tits feel in my hands; how hard her nipples get when she’s turned on, especially in the cool night air; that she whimpers each time she rolls her hips.

I kiss her mouth, slide my lips along her jaw to find her earlobe, soft as satin, and the patch of smooth, tender skin just behind it. I breathe against the shell of her ear, loving the jerk of her hips, her broken moan. With the tip of my tongue, I chase that sensation for her, and am rewarded with more rubbing, more moaning.

She is so fucking hot.

I cup both her breasts in my hands. They overflow my grasp, and it’s my turn to moan and jerk against her, involuntarily, and for a second I almost lose control. Then I find it again, and stroke her through her t-shirt, loving the softness, the way her head rolls back and another sound, one I haven’t heard before, escapes her lips. A needy little huff of breath.

I’m hungry for more. I yank her shirt up and find her bra underneath, dip my head to lick one hard peak through the thin lace of a bra whose color I can’t make out in the dim cab.