Page 67 of Tickled Pink

I look at my empty shot glass. “I’m not so sure,” I say.

“I think if anyone understands what it’s like to love two people, it’s her.”

He has a point there.

But…

“I don’t know if I can do this,” I say, barely above a whisper.

Thad breathes a laugh. “Would it make you feel better if I said I didn’t either?”

My lips twitch. “Maybe.”

Thad rises out of his chair, the sudden sound making me flinch. “Then let’s give it a try. Together. You, me, and… ole Jack here.”

I look at him. My skin is on fire. My heart slams against my ribs. Thoughts blend between my ears, and I abandon reason. It’s nothing but primal instinct as I stand, our eyes locking. His blue. Mine green.

“Let’s just dive right in and see what happens,” he says. “Kiss me, Max.”

I don’t move. Still, I’m not sure I even can.

Thad takes a step closer to me. “Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks.

I swallow hard. “Yes.” The word escapes my lips without thought.

Thad drifts in, his head gently leaning to one side. It’s not the first time we’ve been this close. I’m reminded of the night we almost did this for Phoebe. She stopped us then. The thought of the two of us together was too weird at the time. But now, it feels natural. It’s the next step.

I lean the other way, closing my eyes as his mouth touches mine.

His lips taste like whiskey.

I don’t move at first. I almost expect him to step back, to push me away, but he doesn’t. He kisses me, and it’s not the hard closed-mouth peck beneath the mistletoe that started this mess to begin with. It’s light and soft. The kiss of a lover. Of temptation.

I part my lips to kiss him back.

Thad shifts closer until our bodies touch. I feel his hand on my arm, firm fingers wrapping around my wrist, and we pull even closer still. I realize how hard I am, my erection pressed tightly between our bodies. Surely he feels it, too.

My cheeks burn red. “Thad,” I whisper.

“Don’t think about it, Max.”

I don’t. I won’t.

I kiss him again, and his tongue touches mine. A spark burns between us. I tilt forward, following what feels good, rubbing my bulge against him. Pleasure and shame fight within me, but it’s the warmth of Thad’s hand on my cheek that wins me over. He holds me closer, urging me to do it again. To follow my desires wherever they lead us.

I touch him with a trembling hand, fingers crawling down his chest toward his boxers. With a skipping heart, I slide my hand beneath the elastic, following the path of his happy trail toward even thicker hair.

The base of his cock is firm. Hard like mine.

“Do it,” he says, our lips still touching.

I do it.

I stroke him with my palm and Thad shudders with a quiet gasp of pleasure. My cock flexes in my pants, the restrictive fabric becoming uncomfortable as he crushes our mouths together again. I cup his balls. I squeeze his shaft, teasing his swollen tip, and Thad grips my shirt.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

The word charges down my spine, igniting me with goose bumps. I’ve heard Thad’s groans of pleasure before, but I’ve never been the cause of them. That was always her.

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