“That’s crazy,” Boone says, nodding.
“Good,” I breathe. “I’m tired of being safe.”
Jesse’s hand finds mine in the darkness. “Are you sure?”
“No. But I’m sure I don’t care.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” Wyatt asks.
Nothing, apparently. Because the next thing I know, we’re all moving toward their barn, my hand still in Jesse’s, my heart racing with anticipation and terror and the kind of reckless joy that comes from jumping off a cliff and hoping someone will catch you.
Or in this case, hoping threesomeoneswill catch you.
The barn door barely closesbefore Jesse’s got me pressed against the wall, his mouth hot and demanding. There’s nothing gentle about him. It’s just pure, undiluted want and it makes my knees weak.
“Fuck,” he breathes against my lips. “Been thinking about this all day.”
“Just thinking?” I challenge, nipping at his lower lip hard enough to make him groan.
“Among other activities,” he admits, his hands working their way under my hoodie.
Wyatt’s behind me, his chest solid against my back. “This is crazy, good crazy,” he says, but his hands are sliding around my waist, fingers splaying possessively over my stomach.
“Good,” I breathe, grinding back against him in a way that makes him curse. “I’m done being careful.”
“Thank God,” Boone mutters from somewhere on my left. “Careful is boring.”
Jesse pulls back just enough to yank my hoodie over my head, leaving me in a thin tank top that does nothing to hide how affected I am. His eyes go dark as he takes in the view.
“Jesus, Callie.”
“Less talking,” I demand, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back to me. “More doing.”
“Bossy,” Wyatt murmurs against my ear, his teeth grazing my neck in a way that sends heat straight through me.
“You have no idea,” I gasp, then prove it by reaching back to grab his hair, holding him against my throat.
The tack room is small and smells like leather and sweat, which is appropriate, considering what we’re about to do. Boone kicks the door shut behind us while Jesse backs me toward the makeshift couch someone made out of old saddle blankets and a broken bench.
“Someone might hear us,” Wyatt says, but he’s already pulling his shirt off, and holy hell, the sight of his chest in the dim light makes my mouth water.
“Then we’ll have to be quiet,” I say, which is a complete lie because the moment Jesse’s mouth finds that spot just below my ear, I let out a sound that’s definitely not quiet.
“So much for that plan,” Boone laughs, working on his belt. “Maybe we should gag you.”
“Maybe you should,” I shoot back, which is the wrong thing to say because suddenly all three of them are looking at me like I’m prey and they haven’t eaten in days.
“Careful what you ask for, pretty girl,” Jesse warns, his voice rough with want.
“I’m not asking,” I tell him, pulling my tank top over my head in one smooth motion. “I’m demanding.”
The effect is immediate and satisfying. Wyatt actually groans, Boone drops his belt, and Jesse looks like he might combust on the spot.
“Fuck me,” Boone breathes.
“That’s the plan,” I say, reaching for the button on my jeans. “Unless you three are all talk.”
That breaks whatever restraint they had left.
