Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
“You guys! This movie is getting intense. We just saw boobs and a boner.”
“Really?” Will says, feigning innocence. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Beckett’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “Yeah, baby girl. Get your head out of the gutter.”
I can’t help but squirm a little. This is more than I’d bargained for. “I’m starting to think this was a setup.”
Will winks at me. “A setup? Nah. Total random movie choice. I swear.”
“Super random,” Beckett says.
There’s no denying the electricity in the air. “You guys are impossible.”
On the screen, Jessie is now telling Hot Lawyer she can’t go back to the city with him. Not until she finds what she’s looking for in this town. After he leaves in anger, she goes for a walk and ends up making out with Mr. Broody in the peach orchard behind their houses.
Beckett rests his hand on my thigh, the warmth of his touch seeping through my skirt. On my other side, Will’s arm is still stretched out, his palm curled over my knee.
“Are you trying to tease me?” I blurt out.
“You think this is teasing? A hand on your leg?” Beckett drawls. “That’s fucking cute.”
“So it’s not?”
“No.” His palm slides higher on my thigh, dipping just below the hem of my skirt. “This is.”
I bite my lip, the tension in the air reaching a fever pitch. I’m hyperaware of them, the heat radiating off their bodies. I try to focus on the movie, but Jessie’s love life is no longer of interest to me.
My own is far more noteworthy.
Will’s hand abandons my knee and travels north, reaching my sweater. His fingers brush the bare skin of my waist where the sweater has ridden up, and the featherlight touch sends a shiver down my spine.
It’s difficult to think straight with the way they’re both touching me.
“I think…” I swallow, trying to focus. “I want that beer after all.”
“I got you.” Chuckling, Beckett ducks into the kitchen, returning with a beer for me.
“Thanks.” I take a desperate swig, not even caring that it’s going to turn my cheeks into tomatoes. “So. Is every time a threesome with you guys? Like…you’re each other’s sexual support animals?”
Beckett nearly spits out his beer.
“Every time is not a threesome,” Will says with a crooked grin.
“Then you hook up with women one-on-one?”
“All the time.” Beckett is equally amused. “Also, unlike you, Ms. I Must Be Satisfied Thrice Daily—and contrary to popular belief—not all men are looking to bang ten times a day. Sometimes you need a day off.”
“First of all, once daily is enough.” I give him a haughty look.
“See,” he says, “that’s why this arrangement”—he gestures between him and Will—“was tailor-made for Charlotte Kingston. The days when I’m too tired to service you, I can just tag Larsen in.”
I snort out a laugh. “I appreciate your problem-solving skills. What about the days when you’re both too tired?”
“We’ll call it a solo night, and you’ll have to take care of business yourself.”
“On it. I’ve been single for eight months. Every night is a solo night.”
“How many times did you come from our chats?”
I sigh. “A lot.”
“Just so you know,” Beckett says, “I’ve spent a lot of time imagining what you sound like when you come.”
I choke mid-sip and proceed to break out in a coughing fit.
He smiles innocently.
Recovering, I swallow my beer and wipe the corner of my mouth where some spilled. “Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I live at Delta Pi. Agatha won’t allow screaming orgasms without calling you in front of the executive board. Therefore, I’m quiet as a mouse.”
“Technically, mice aren’t silent,” Beckett points out. “They squeak.”
“I don’t squeak when I orgasm,” I protest with a giggle. “Seriously, when I’m at home, I’ve perfected the art of staying quiet during a solo session.”
That intrigues him. “Bullshit.”
In an abrupt motion, Will climbs off the chaise. “Need a drink,” he says before disappearing into the kitchen.
“What was that?” I lift a brow at Beckett, who shrugs. But at Will’s return, he hoots at what his friend is holding.
“Well, fuck,” says Beckett.
I’m even more confused now. I watch as Will opens the whiskey bottle and sloshes the amber liquid into a Boston Bruins shot glass. He slugs it back and grimaces.
“What am I missing here?” I ask.
Beckett snorts. “You got Larsen so tied up in knots, he needed to take a shot.”
I turn to Will. “Is that true?”
“Maybe,” he says with a hint of a smile. “But only because I see exactly where this is going.”
My heart skips. “And where’s that?”
“Beck’s about to dare you to get yourself off without making a sound.”
All the breath leaves my body. I swing my head to Beckett, who’s grinning.
“Pretty much, yeah.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Perv.”
“I mean, yes. But it’s not a dare so much as a challenge. I genuinely don’t believe you can do it.”