Someone—maybe me—straddles him, and I see it in my head. He makes love to her from the bottom, pumping his hips up into her.

Slowly, I unbutton his shirt with one hand. I spread the shirt open, his naked skin from his neck down to his groin waiting for me. My fingers hum with desire. I want to touch him.

But I don’t.

“Slower,” I tell him. I don’t want him to come yet.

“Open your shirt.”

I meet his eyes.

“He won’t see,” Noah murmurs. “Open your shirt for me.”

I falter, the pulse in my neck throbbing. I want to.

I…

“He won’t find out,” Noah says, tossing a look behind me toward the door to the kitchen.

What would happen if he did? At any second that door could open.

“Open,” Noah growls under his breath. “Your fucking shirt, princess.”

I reach up, holding his eyes as he jerks himself and unbutton his shirt that I wear. Underneath, I sport a tight, tank top, and he doesn’t even ask. He bares his teeth, yanking it up over my breasts. His lungs empty as he stares at my body, and I lie on my back again, letting him drink me in.

My nipples harden, sharpening to points in the chilly air. “Noah…”

He licks the palm of his hand, dragging his tongue over it, and dipping back down to jerk himself harder, his eyes never leaving my body.

He fists his hard cock, cum dripping from its tip. He inches in to touch me, and I shake my head.

No.

He stops, his angry eyes zoning in on me.

“No one says no to me,” he whispers.

I smile a little.

“I want my mouth all over your body,” he says, staring at my breasts. “Let me taste them.”

I shake my head again, but my skin tingles with the idea. His mouth hungrily sucking on me… God.

He makes me feel powerful. With Noah, I’m not embarrassed to demand or refuse. He dangles on my line and not the other way around.

“Faster.” I push my tits up for him. “Do it faster.”

He breathes through his teeth, stroking himself harder and faster, and I watch his mouth open and close as he longs for my breasts.

I slip my hand down my jeans and inside my panties.

He groans, watching me finger myself. “Take ’em down.”

I shake my head, swirling my wet clit.

He growls again. “Take your panties down and show me something wet.”

“Noah, no.”

I can’t. I’ll lose control. This is what I love with Noah, and what I want to keep. I can love him but stay level.

He pants. “I want your panties balled up on my bedroom floor so bad, but I’ll fuck you right here if I have to, Tiernan.”

I eye the couch in the corner of the shop, a moment of surrender almost taking me over.

“Let me in your bed tonight,” he asks. “He won’t find out.”

I open my mouth to say something—to refuse—but I can’t force the words. I don’t want to deny him. I want him to be happy.

“He won’t find out,” he whispers again. “He’ll never know, Tiernan. Drop the pack. Just let go.”

Everything washes over me at once, and I almost say “yes.”

Drop the pack.

Like that day in the ocean and everything I was carrying that would drag me down and drown me. Just let go.

I almost do.

Instead, I dive in, holding his face and kissing his temple as he strokes himself. “I’m sorry.”

And I slide out from under the bike and climb to my feet, running toward the kitchen door as I pull down my tank top and fix the flannel.

“Tiernan,” he groans behind me, sounding disappointed, but I don’t stop.

Running into the house, I slam the shop door and bolt up the stairs, heading to my bedroom.

What the hell is the matter with me? Noah is the only one I’m completely fearless around. Why would I complicate that?

I wanted him. I wanted to climb on top of him and love him and hold him and make sure he wasn’t alone.

I swing my door open and pull off the flannel, kicking off my shoes and socks, because I’m sweating.

These fucking men. I squeeze my eyes shut, still aching between my thighs. My clothes itch, and my heart pounds.

“Tiernan.”

I blink, hearing my name. I turn my head, looking out my door, across the hall, and seeing Jake standing in his room wearing a towel. He uses another to dry the back of his hair as steam billows out of the bathroom and into his room.

“You okay?” he asks.

I stare at his bare chest and muscular calves, the towel tucked just above his groin, and the pulse in my clit throbs harder.

I shake my head.

Slowly, I unfasten my jeans and push them down my legs, his eyes on me as I pull my tank top over my head.

I see his breathing turn heavy as his eyes fall down my body, and I don’t hesitate another moment. I slip my panties down my legs, bearing my pussy, and he’s off. Dropping the towel in his hand, he stalks across the hall and into my room, slamming my door closed before he grabs me. I have a moment to inhale before he lifts me into his arms, my legs wrapping around his body, and his hand smacks my ass.

I whimper but smile as he pins me up against my wall, fisting my breast as he thrusts inside of me and pumps me hard and fast, his grunts and growls hot on my neck.

I moan, everything hot and alive under my skin. I’ve loved in Jake the same things I’ve loved not seeing in Noah, but… I may have had it wrong.

Jake’s not in control, either.

Tiernan

I tear off the sheet and crumple it up in my fist, tossing it onto the table. I hate sketching. I’ve been at this for two hours and every design comes out looking ten times worse than whatever’s in my head. I can’t draw.

I pick up a freshly sharpened pencil and start again, remembering the lines and curves of the chest out in the shop as “Blue Blood” by LAUREL plays on my phone on the table. Using light strokes, I fill in the feathers and filigree, not really worried about the bones of the design, just the colors. Every scheme I use seems childish, but I want to have an idea of what to do before I use any paint on it.

I lay my head down on my arm, picking up the gold pencil and brushing the highest points of the feathers as the snow falls out the window. I like this time of day. The sun just before it rises, the house is quiet, except for my soft music, and everything is asleep. My mug of coffee sits close, steam rising into the air, and I’m awake before anyone else but rested. Not like at night where I’m crashing into my pillow at ten p.m. because I’m exhausted.

My fingers work, peeking out of my long sweater, but a shadow falls over the paper as someone stops behind me. I pause.

But only for a moment.

I take a breath and continue, glossing up the trim of the chest as Kaleb walks to the coffee pot and pours himself a cup. I knew it was him, because Jake and Noah would’ve said ‘good morning’.

He stands at the counter, and even though I’m tempted to look up to see if he’s watching me, I don’t. I switch out pencils, my hand hovering over the choices before I finally pick up the violet and light blue ones. Keeping my head nestled on my arm, I shade the left tip of the chest, working diagonally before switching to the blue to continue the design.