“I’m curious.”
“About me or them?”
The question feels loaded. And though I know the answer—it’s branded on me at this point—pure bullshit comes out of my mouth instead. “Uh. Both?”
Galen rolls his lips again. Then seems to give himself a shake, all while never breaking the eye contact tethering me to the world. “If I was hooking-up with one of these couples, it would depend what they wanted. Bi-ness is a spectrum as much as anything else, and I’m pretty much in the middle, so…”
He searches for the words.
I find them for him. “So you’re up for anything?”
“Most things,” he corrects. “But it’s just sex, Sab. It doesn’t mean anything.”
He really believes that—I see it. But it’s a long way from what Tam’s been trying to tell me, and as much as I like Galen—it’s more than that—my brother’s rarely wrong about matters of the heart.
I can’t do this.
The thought hits sudden and strong, but as I brace myself for a physical reaction, for my body to fall in line with the absolute certainty filling my brain with harsh red light, the arousal in my blood, it doesn’t fade. My dick still aches with need, my pulse keeps thundering in my ears, and I can’t stop watching Galen scroll on my phone, his thumb flicking at a pace so rapid the images on the screen blur.
His set jaw calls to me. The arch of his neck as he leans in to see the screen better. God help me, I want him, even as my mind screamsno, but the rest of me leans closer, and I drown in his spicy, fruity scent.
He doesn’t notice at first, gaze still fixed on the screen. Then he must feel me, and he pauses mid swipe, glancing up, his lashes catching the light.
The air shifts.
Or maybe it’s me.
Maybe it’shim.
Doesn’t matter. Something changes—everythingchanges, and we’re on each other before I can draw breath. And,fuck, we’ve collided before, but not like this. Not with kisses this desperate. Hands this rough, yanking at clothes as though we’ll die if we don’t reach the bare skin underneath.
Galen’s mouth crushes mine and I meet him head-on with zero hesitation. Zeronerves. We strain together before my base instincts kick in and I let him topple me over.
My back hits the sofa cushions and Galen wedges a thigh between mine, grinding down, and I’m already right there, heat shooting up my spine, sparks in my blood.
Sparks that have my fingers digging into him, raking down his spine in the space I’ve claimed beneath his clothes. Clawing at him, as sheer feral need tangles us together, and his growled moan dizzies me.
I hook a leg around his hip, forgetting about the parade of faces on my phone, and the miscommunication I’ve committed to put them there. Forgetting we’re in my living room, not his. That Esme’s sleeping upstairs and there’s no way we’re going to fuck on this couch.
Because I feel like we might. Like I want it, and as Galen curses, low and guttural, kissing me harder—pushingme harder—three words become a mantra in my head, pushing all rhyme and reason aside.
This is it. The moment.
We’re going to fuck.
It feels inevitable.
And I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything for myself my entire fucking life.
His jeans are already unbuttoned.
Did I do that?
I’m not sure, and I don’t give myself much room to think about it. I slip my hand under his waistband and find his cock, while he tugs at the old sweats I’m wearing, and we’re a mess of scraping teeth and twisted clothes. Of snatched breath and sharp sounds, that place deep inside me crying out formore.
I lose my head to it, I want it that much. I don’t stop—I don’t want to. Ican’t. His dick feels so right, so hot and heavy in my palm, but I know it will feel so much better somewhere else.
Inside me.
