“No.” His tongue is caught between his teeth as he offers a lewd grin.

“You grazed my boob.”

“Yeah, a graze, not a feel.”

“Same thing. Right, Hunter?”

I don’t answer. My mouth is bone-dry. I remember making out with her in the club in Boston, how badly I’d wanted to cup her tits with both hands, tease my thumbs over her nipples until they were harder than icicles. But we were in public and I didn’t do it. And even in private, I still can’t do that.

Maybe watching Conor do it will provide me with some sort of satisfaction? Is secondhand boob-groping a thing?

But Con’s focus is no longer on Demi’s perfect tits. He lowers his mouth, and Demi squeaks in surprise.

I stiffen at the sight of his blond head buried in her neck. She, on the other hand, softens like warm butter. Her body practically melts into Con, and she even slants her head to grant him easier access to suck on her neck.

It’s no longer difficult to breathe—it’s impossible. Jealousy pounds a steady drumbeat in my blood. But so does arousal. I should get up and leave, ASAP. Anything short of that is self-torture.

But my ass remains glued to the couch cushion.

Conor lifts his head, his eyelids heavy with lust. “I want to kiss you,” he whispers to Demi, who inhales deeply.

I curl my fingers over my knee to stop them from clenching into a fist.

Con flicks me a brief look, winks, and then lowers his mouth to Demi’s.

Motherfucker.

She welcomes the kiss, parting her lips for him, and I almost curse out loud when I see his tongue enter her mouth.

I grit my teeth. Finally finding my voice. “I’m just gonna go…”

Demi breaks the kiss and plants her hand on my thigh. “Stay.”

Oh sweet Jesus. Yeah, there’s definitely no oxygen in this room anymore. “Nah,” I grind out. “I feel like you guys might need some privacy.”

Conor licks his bottom lip. “When you were in the can, I was telling Demi about that time you walked in on me getting sucked off. She said it was the hottest thing she’d ever heard.”

I glance sharply at Demi, whose lips curve seductively. “The hottest,” she says in a throaty voice. “Why didn’t you join them?”

“That’s what I said!” Con nuzzles her neck again. I know the moment he sucks on her flesh, because she gasps in delight.

When he raises his head again, he quirks up an eyebrow and his gaze locks with mine, as if to say, I’m down for anything. How about you?

I don’t know what the hell I’m feeling. I know that I’m hard as a rock and that I shouldn’t be.

I know that Demi is threading her fingers through Conor’s shoulder-length hair and pulling on the blond strands to tug him forward.

I know that when I see their tongues touch, I want to rip his out of his mouth and wear it around my neck like a war trophy while I fuck Demi right in front of him.

And that’s when I snap. The scorching jealousy in my blood rivals the primal need flooding my body. I snarl like a territorial dog and jump to my feet, forcibly pulling Demi up with me.

“Nope. Nope nope nope nope nope.”

Her eyes widen. “What the hell!”

Conor merely chuckles.

“We’re leaving,” I bark at her, as my pulse careens and my breaths come out ragged.

“But—”

I silence her protest with a growl. “You want your rebound? I’ll give you your fucking rebound. Let’s go.”

28

Demi

I don’t remember getting to Hunter’s house. Not because I’m drunk and unaware of my surroundings, but because I’m so full of anticipation I can’t think or see straight. Hell, I can’t hear straight, either—the only sound registering is the incessant thudding of my heart.

Getting Hunter to cave was so easy. Although I won’t lie—for a moment there I was worried I’d crossed the line from making him jealous to completely driving him away. I can’t deny it felt good kissing Conor, but nothing rivals the dizzying excitement of stumbling into Hunter’s bedroom and glimpsing that ravenous look on his face.

He kicks the door closed. Locks it. Then he’s advancing on me like a predator. He stops when our bodies are less than a foot apart. “Are you sure about this?” His voice is low. Husky.

“Yes.” I swallow. “Are you?”

A ragged breath puffs between us. “Yeah, unfortunately.”

My jaw drops. “Really, Hunter? The idea of having sex with me is sooooo unfortunate—”

He cuts me off with a kiss and I’ve already forgotten what I was bitching about.

I am obsessed with this guy’s kisses. Hot, passionate, just enough tongue to not be overpowering or slobbery. He knows how to draw moans from my throat, how to seduce me with his firm, talented mouth. And as his tongue slicks over mine seductively, his big hands drift down to my ass, caressing the line of flesh where the hem of Brenna’s dress ends.

“This dress is way too short,” he hisses in my ear before sliding his hands underneath and squeezing my ass. My butt cheeks might as well be bare, with that dental-floss thong between them.

“Short is bad?” I ask breathlessly.

“It is when you’ve got Conor Edwards’ hand on your thigh.”

“Jealous?”

“Yes.” No denial, just pure hunger in his dark eyes as he yanks the sweater dress up and over my head. He whips it aside, then steps back to admire my thong and skimpy bikini bra.

“Take the bra off,” he rasps. “Show me those tits.”

My fingers shake as they undo the front clasp. The bra flutters to the floor. Now I’m standing topless in front of him, my heart pounding.

He admires me for a moment. Then he licks his lips and moves close again, filling his palms with my aching breasts. When his thumbs sweep over my nipples, I whimper. They’re so hard they actually hurt.

“Your tits are perfect, Demi.”

I can’t speak. I’m too busy watching his face as he plays with my breasts. Each caress makes my heart beat even faster. I’m sure he feels the rapid thump-thump beneath his exploring hands. I almost weep when he stops, but then those rough hands travel lower to grip the thin strap at my waist. He shoves the thong down my legs. I’m naked now. Hunter’s still fully dressed.

He’s just staring at me, and the need burning in his eyes is too much. My core clenches tightly. “Do something,” I whisper.

“I shouldn’t,” he says gruffly, and yet he grabs his shirt by the collar and pulls it off.

His bare torso taunts me. Smooth golden flesh with a smatter of hair between his heavy pecs. Sculpted abs tapering into a trim waist. He has a treasure trail that disappears into the waistband of his black cargo pants and I want nothing more than to follow that trail with my tongue and see what it leads to.

I want to kiss his chest, drag my tongue over every ridge, every tight sinew. But I’m too scared to move. Scared that if I break the spell, he’ll put a stop to this.

Without a word, he undoes his pants and lets them drop on the floor. His belt buckle jangles when it hits the hardwood. Next, he tugs his white boxers down his muscular legs. His dick swings up, long and thick.