But my words evaporated as my gaze slid back to the quiet one. His cheekbones could slice butter, sharp enough to draw blood, and his full lips were set in a line that wasn’t quite a frown but wasn’t anything close to a smile. Dark hair fell across his forehead in careless waves, and a faint scar traced the edge of his jaw, a tiny imperfection that somehow made the rest of him even more perfect.
Milo was still talking. “—totally our fault for loitering right in front of the door. I’m Milo, by the way. And this silent statue is X.”
“X?” I repeated, my brain still half-scrambled by the collision and the sheer force of finally seeing their faces. “That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.”
Oh god. I’d just insulted the two most beautiful men I’d ever seen.After literally crashing into one of them. Social skills: zero.
I couldn’t make eye contact, so I stared at his lips. The corner of his mouth twitched, the barest ghost of amusement. “It’s short for Xavier,” he said, and his voice was exactly what I’d imagined during my fantasies—low and rough-edged.
“Xavier,” I repeated, testing the feel of it in my mouth. It suited him, unusual and sharp.
“And you are?” he asked, one eyebrow arching slightly.
“June,” I said.
“June. Like the month.”
“Yes, like the month,” I agreed, feeling impossibly awkward. “Very observant.”
His mouth twitched again, almost a smile this time. “Parents hippies?”
“Engineers, actually,” I said, bending to gather my scattered books, desperate for something to do with my hands. “And I was born in June, so they felt it was accurate.”
“Oh shit, is it your birthday?” Milo asked, as he crouched to help me, grabbing one of my books before I could reach it. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the cover—two men and a woman in a compromising position.
I snatched it from his hands, shoving it into my bag, cheeks red-hot. “It was a few weeks ago.”
“Well, happy belated birthday.”
“So, June,” Xavier said, and the way he drew out my name made my skin prickle with awareness. “I’ve been reading those sexy books you like. You wanna act out some of those scenes?”
I froze, certain I’d misheard him.
“X, what the hell?” Milo hissed, elbowing his friend hard in the ribs. “I thought you were smooth.”
Xavier shrugged. “Isn’t that how you get girls to fuck you? You just ask them nicely.”
Milo rolled his eyes. “Of course not! I move in slow, charm them, wine and dine them. Like a normal person. I don’t just smirk at them like some asshole and ask them if they want to fuck. Jesus.”
Xavier’s lips twitched. “Maybe you should try it. You’re hot. They’ll go for it. Much less work.”
They continued this exchange as if I wasn’t standing right there, as if Xavier hadn’t just casually propositioned me. My brain kept replaying his words—”you wanna fact out some of those scenes”—like a skipping record. Part of me was scandalized, part of me was intrigued, and a much larger part than I cared to admit was turned on.
Milo turned back to me, his expression apologetic but with a hint of mischief in his eyes. “So, June, ignore my socially stunted friend. I have a question.” He paused, dimples flashing as he smiled, “Do you prefer dates before your threesomes, or do you want to get straight to the fucking?”
For one bizarre moment, I thought I was dreaming. Or hallucinating. Maybe I’d hit my head when I crashed into Xavier.
“THAT’S better than what I said?” Xavier punched Milo on the shoulder. “Seriously? You just said you were the charming one!”
“Straight to the fucking,” I blurted out, then immediately wanted to melt into the sidewalk as they froze and stared at me, eyes hungry.
“No shit? I like this chick,” Milo said.
Had I just implied that I knew how to threesome? The truth was, I’d only had sex with two guys, which I was aware was well below average for a 29-year-old woman. My fumbling first times had been with my college boyfriend, a forgettable relationship that had ended before it had really begun. A few years ago, I’d dated a guy in my engineering department who’d spent the entire time explaining what he was doing. Every time we had sex. I kept waiting for him to be satisfied that he didn’t have to narrate things because I knew what was coming, but it never happened.
But I wanted this. Wanted to be the woman sandwiched between two sexy guys, like on the cover of my books. Wanted to feel what it was like to be overwhelmed by pleasure, to be the center of attention in a way I’d only read about.
“Well then,” Xavier said, his voice dropping even lower, “I guess we’re getting straight to the fucking.”
