Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54196 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
“You guys, uh…” I blush, my brow furrowing as I look down.
“What?” Griffin says gently.
I take a breath.
“Do you guys do that a lot?”
“Play seven minutes in heaven together in closets?” Carson snorts. “Nah, only every other Tuesday.”
I giggle again, biting my lip.
“No, I mean—”
“We know what you meant, baby,” Griffin says quietly, smiling into my eyes. “You mean us and one girl, like we just did?”
I nod quietly.
“Well the answer is no. No as in, not ever.”
I can’t even try to stop the grin that tugs at the corners of my lips.
“So, tomorrow?” Carson says, pulling me around to kiss me slowly and deeply. I lose myself in his lips, and when we pull apart, I nod.
“Yeah, tomorrow.”
“Thanks for an amazing night, beautiful,” Griffin purrs, pulling me around to face him again as he leans down to kiss my mouth.
It’s additive, kissing them. And I just keep doing it until finally, I realize the time, and I walk them to the door.
“See you tomorrow, beautiful,” Carson murmurs as they slip out, walking cool as can be back to the closet and slipping inside. I close the door and lean against it, my heart still racing, my mind still running wild, and my entire body aching for more.
But this time, I don’t wonder “what’s wrong with me.” Because even if it was wild and crazy and so dirty, nothing about what just happened felt “wrong.” Actually, it felt more right than anything I’ve ever known.
The only question is: what the hell happens now?
8
Anders
I’ll be honest: there’s a sharp, searing lance of jealousy that cuts through me when I hear about what happened. It’s not anger, but I’m sure as fuck jealous of my friends for being a part of what happened with Zara.
Yeah, not angry though. I mean, I might be wild about Zara in a way I’ve never known before, but I don’t own her. And aside from that, it’s actually pretty fucking hot to think about her with my friends like that.
Like, really hot.
Carson, Griffin, and I? Sure, there’ve been girls in all of our pasts. But it’s never been like that. I mean, I do remember this one party earlier on in our time at Winchester when we were at this wild off-campus football party, and this one crazy senior girl was basically making her way down the lineup giving the entire team blowjobs all night. But, yeah, no. Hell no. There may have been some upperclassman guys who took her up on it, but Griff, Carson, and I definitely wanted no part of that.
But this is different in a big way. This isn’t just some football groupie “getting crazy.” This is Zara. And on top of that, man, we are all into her, and I know it, even if I don’t know what to do with that. There are feelings involved here. Big ones. Lust too, for sure, but it’s so much more than just wanting to have some fun.
I was buried in homework when Carson and Griffin came back to our suite. But I sure as hell put my books down when they came into my room to tell me everything that’d just happened. They both felt guilty, too—like they’d wronged me, or like they’d changed the dynamic of our friendship. I promised them they hadn’t. And it’s true.
But it’s the only thing that’s been on my mind all night and all day. And it’s still there right now, the next night, as I head into the basement to go meet Zara to help her sneak out for our gig. Carson and Griff are already on their way to the bar in our van with the gear from the practice space. Me? I’ve got my Range Rover parked in the commuter parking lot for me and Zara to take.
…I know, not exactly the grungy, rough and tumble rock n’ roll look, but whatever. I’m not going to apologize for being born richer than most rock stars.
I push open the door to the basement of Marshall Hall, and I couldn’t even stop the smile that comes over my face when I see Zara waiting there with a guitar case in her hand if I wanted to. And I don’t.
“Hey,” I growl quietly. She gasps, like she’s been so lost in thought she didn’t even hear me, and she whirls towards me.
“Hey,” she says shyly, a red flush spreading over her gorgeous face.
Damn she looks good. Fucking amazing, actually. Tight black ripped jeans, biker boots, and this throwback Madonna concert tank top that fits her like a fucking glove. She looks like a rock n’ roll wet dream, and I’m fucking hard in seconds.
She looks down though as she blushes, avoiding my eyes. And I know damn well she’s thinking about last night, with Carson and Griffin. And really, so am I, visualizing every damn detail they told me about, with her standing right here in front of me. But I can also tell she thinks I’m jealous, or angry, or whatever. And maybe I am that first one a little, but just for missing out.