I glance up, catching his eyes. “Still think you’re dying?”
He tries to laugh, but it slips into something breathless as I stroke him. “If this is death, I’ve never wanted anything more.”
Carson shifts beside us; he brushes past me, circling Finn like a predator with purpose. When he moves behind him, I feel the shift in Finn’s posture, the tension coiling in anticipation.
Carson’s mouth grazes Finn’s ear. “Then take what we’regiving you,” he murmurs. “You earned it with your obsession.”
Finn’s grip tightens on my shoulders as if he's not sure what to do with his hands, but I pull back slightly. I rise slowly from my knees, dragging my hands up his thighs as I go. His eyes never leave mine, not even as I urge him back onto the bed and climb into his lap and straddle him, not even when Carson settles behind him on the bed.
I cradle Finn’s face between my palms, brushing my thumbs along his cheekbones. Then I kiss him, slow and deep, letting him feel every ounce of intent behind it. His hands clutch at my hips, as Carson’s palms smooth over his shoulders, down his chest, touching him from behind.
His hard length presses between us, and I almost can't believe I'm doing this. My bikini is still damp from the pool and hot tub. And most likely my arousal now, too.
Finn’s head tips back slightly, caught in the middle of our attention, and the sound he makes is part gasp, part moan has me rolling my hips to hear it again. Carson leans in and mouths at the curve of his neck, and Finn’s entire body shudders beneath mine.
I can feel him shaking, all wound-up need and disbelief, caught between too much and not enough. His fingers twitch against my waist, as though he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch or if this is still a dream he hasn’t woken from.
Carson lifts his gaze to mine over Finn’s shoulder. There’s heat there—banked and patient—but also a spark of something else. I lean forward, just enough for our mouths to meet over Finn’s shoulder. The kiss is slow at first, teasing. But it deepens fast, hungry and sure, and Finn groans between us like it’s the most erotic sound he’s ever heard.
His breath skates across my throat as I pull away from Carson and turn back to him, cupping his jaw again. Carsonshifts behind him, pressing in closer, his arms braced on either side of Finn’s body, caging him in without pressure.
Carson’s hand cups the side of Finn’s face, turning it toward him just as I lean in from the front. Finn’s lips part, and it’s clumsy at first, breathless and too much all at once, but we find the rhythm. Our mouths crash together, all lips and tongues and need. Finn’s caught in the middle of it, a live wire of sensation, his moan swallowed between us as Carson and I kiss him, then each other, the three of us tangled in something hot and wild and alive.
It’s messy. Desperate. Beautiful.
Finn gasps when Carson bites his bottom lip, then whimpers when I slide my fingers into his hair and tilt his head toward me for more. Carson’s hand meets mine, tangling briefly, both of us holding him steady as if he’s the center of our gravity.
And maybe he is.
Because right now, there’s no past. No fear. No doubt. Only mouths, heat, and the sweet, dark ache of finally giving in.
The door’s automatic lock on the outside clicks.
None of us react fast enough to stop. Not that we want to.
Finn’s breath hitches, still caught between Carson’s mouth and mine. I pull back just as the hotel door swings open, letting in a burst of hallway light, and two very large, very familiar silhouettes.
Hunter walks in first, a towel slung around his neck, followed by Graham, still toweling off his hair.
They stop. Just inside the doorway.
Silence stretches, taut and heavy.
Hunter’s eyes go wide. His lips part, caught between a curse and a laugh, as he takes in the scene—Finn, half exposed, flushed and panting beneath me, Carson bracingbehind him, still close enough to bite, and me, straddling Finn’s lap, my mouth swollen and damp.
Graham’s expression doesn’t shift much. Just a slight rise of his brows. His gaze tracks everything—everyone. Then he reaches behind him and closes the door with a soft click.
Finn tries to stand, nearly toppling me off his lap in his rush. My palm meets his chest, pushing him back down, while Carson tightens his grip on Finn’s hip.
“You’re not going anywhere,” Carson murmurs. “You want Willow? Then you get us too. That’s the deal. Can you handle it?”
Hunter drags a hand through his wet hair, chuckling under his breath. “What is this?”
Carson lifts a shoulder, all lazy heat. “We were waiting for you two.”
Graham folds his arms over his chest, slow and unreadable. “Looks like you got tired of waiting.”
Finn doesn’t flinch. Not really. But the tension in his jaw says he’s weighing the odds. Calculating. Testing the edges of control. Probably wondering if he will have to defend himself.
