I pull back just slightly, breath brushing her lips, and glance toward the corner of the room.
Carson watches us from the armchair, still and quiet, his gaze unreadable.
“You don’t have to just sit there,” I say softly. “Come here.”
A beat passes.
Then Carson rises, slow and measured. His bare feet whisper over the carpeted floor as he approaches. His gaze flicks to Willow, who nods once, wordless but open.
Then his eyes land on me.
I expect tension. Wariness. But when he stops in front of me, he just looks at me—really looks—and then his hand slides behind my neck.
And he kisses me.
It’s different than hers, deeper, firmer, and almost exactly like he kissed me in the locker room. A test. A challenge. But there’s heat in it too. Curiosity. Want.
I lean into it, my fingers still curled loosely around Willow’s waist. Her touch moves then, trailing from my chest down, slow and unhurried. She finds the button of my jeans and pauses, her breath brushing my collarbone as she nips at my neck.
My lips part, breaking from Carson’s just enough to whisper, “Is this really happening?”
Willow hums against my neck. “It is if you want it.”
Carson’s smile is faint against my mouth, but there. “You’re already here, stalker boy. Might as well stay.”
And without any more words, I know, I belong.
CHAPTER 75
Willow
The buttonon Finn's jeans pops free, and I run the tips of my fingers along the band, loosening it further. He hisses into Carson’s mouth, and I can’t help the smile that curls my lips.
“Slowly, little fire,” Finn murmurs, voice rough and unraveling. “I want to savor this experience.”
“You can savor the next one,” Carson replies, his tone darkly amused as he threads his fingers through Finn’s hair and nips at his lower lip with a quiet growl. “Right now, we’re going to enjoy this one together.”
Finn shudders, and I can feel it ripple through him under my palms.
I slide his jeans and briefs lower, inch by inch, dragging my nails lightly against his hips. He twitches under the contact, breath stuttering in a way that makes heat pool low in my belly. Carson deepens the kiss once more, and I can see it—how much Finn melts into it, how desperately he’s needed this.
When they break apart, Finn’s eyes find mine. Wide. Wild. Needy.
I lean in and brush my lips against his jaw, slow and teasing, before trailing lower, down his neck, tasting the salt of his skin. His hands go to my waist, holding on like he needs the contact, terrified this might not be real.
But it is.
I kiss along his collarbone as Carson’s hand slides down his chest, mapping the muscle and lines as if he’s committing them to memory. Finn's head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, and the sound he makes is something between a gasp and a moan.
“You okay, stalker boy?” I whisper against his throat, smiling as I nip the edge of his jaw, as he inhales at my silly nickname for him.
“I think I might be dying,” he breathes. “But in the best possible way.”
Carson chuckles, low and rough, before licking a slow stripe along the other side of Finn’s neck. “We’re just getting started.”
Carson’s words hang in the air, thick and full of promise.
Finn groans, low and undone, as I slide to my knees in front of him. His jeans and briefs are already past his hips, the fabric bunching at his thighs as I let my fingers trace the lines of his body. The way he twitches under my touch, the way his breathing stutters—it all makes heat bloom low in my belly.
