Page 58 of Forbidden Heart

“Please tell me that was our competition song,” Tate says. He’s standing in the doorway next to Charles, his hair is adorably disheveled, his eyes bright.

“Did you like it?” I grin happily, the songwriting euphoria coursing through me. It makes me feel alive. Makes me brave. Makes me want to run out onto the balcony and shout about my song for the entire world to hear.

“I loved it,” Tate says, but then his eyes briefly drift down to the living room floor.

I look down too, and my eyes grow wide. The floor’s covered with soap bubbles, so many you can’t even see the hardwood. It looks almost as bad as the flood I created on my first day here, and definitely more bubbly. Like the surface of a witch’s cauldron, an evil spell of my own creation.

“I’m so sorry about the mess,” I cry. “I’ll clean it up, I swear. I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. JJ said it would help with my creative process, and I didn’t notice, and—”

“Oh, Roonie, it’s just soap.” Tate laughs.

“Nothing to be upset about,” Charles adds, like he’s not seeing the same mess of a living room that I am.

The guys close the front door and step into the apartment. Then they start to make their way across the soapy living room floor.

Their shoes slip and slide. Then, to my utter horror, Charles’s huge feet fly out from under him and he crashes onto the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

“Charles,” I cry, rushing toward him. After skating on the floor all afternoon, I have no trouble keeping my balance, but the same can’t be said for Tate.

Prince Charming’s sneakers provide better purchase than Charles’s dress shoes, but next thing I know, he’s falling, too. Unlike Charles, he manages to land on hands and knees, and he crawls forward to check on his roommate.

“Are you hurt?” I cry a second later as I fall on my knees next to Charles. “We need to call an ambulance!”

“We don’t need an ambulance,” Charles chuckles, sitting up and pulling me onto his lap. “I’m fine.”

“See? He’s fine.” Tate grins. “And Roonie, your song was absolutely perfect!”

“You really think so?” I ask as Tate takes my hand in his and threads his fingers through mine.

“We know so,” Charles replies, shifting me on his lap so I’m straddling him.

My heart starts to thunder erratically in my chest. I’m holding hands with Tate while sitting astride Charles!

When the Beast slides a finger under my chin and tilts my head up, I forget to breathe. I know he’s going to kiss me seconds before it happens. His eyes zero in on my lips, and I tremble just as his mouth drifts down to cover mine.

Tate plays with my fingers while Charles claims my lips. I moan, suddenly completely overwhelmed. Charles slips his tongue into my mouth, his kiss firm and demanding, his beard rough against my skin.

His hands drift down to my hips, pulling me close, and I rock against him as waves of heat and desire course through me. And all the while, Tate keeps running his thumb over the pulse point at my wrist, playing with my fingers, and sending shivers racing through me.

“Roonie!” My Prince Charming suddenly snaps, and I gasp against Charles’s lips.

What am I doing, kissing Charles with Tate watching? I pull away from Charles, eyes wide with panic. Why did I—

That’s as far as I get before Tate threads his fingers through my hair and turns my heads so he can kiss me. I’m still in Charles’s lap, still feeling his hard heat pressing up against my core, while I kiss his roommate. And I can’t help wanting more.

Tate’s kiss is teasing, always leaving me feeling frustrated and filled with need. I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer. I get another kiss, then a teasing tug on my lower lips that makes me whimper.

Then I whimper again as Charles pinches my nipple through my dress. His hand is huge, and soaking wet from the soapy, bubbling cauldron of the floor. When he cups my breast, water soaks right through my dress.

Tate swallows my moan before pulling back. Again.

“Don’t stop,” I plead, rocking my hips against Charles and arching into his touch while I try to pull Tate closer.

Prince Charming obliges, and I get another taste of his lips just as I hear a wolf whistle echo across the living room.

My eyes snap to the front door and lock on JJ, who’s standing in the doorway, watching us. Instinctively, I try to scramble off Charles, but the Beast tightens his grip on my thighs and holds me in place. He’s still hard, but instead of heat, I feel heady panic. What must JJ think of me, making out with both his roommates in the middle of the living room floor?

I try to think of something to say, some way to explain, but my mind goes blank. There’s absolutely no way I can make this all right!