Page 144 of Look, Don't Touch

“That’s my siren. The fucking best girl.” He emphasizes each word with a deep thrust.

The other woman wails, and then the other two men follow fast behind, grunting out their climaxes, then falling into a heap with the woman’s back atop Karris’s front. Arlo’s thrusts get shorter and shorter.

“Fuck, Hailey, you’re mine.” He fills me with his hot, sticky cum.

“Yes.” Goddamn, I love it.

Then Hota shoots his load in his pants, while his eyes stay on us.

The doorbell chimes a pretty song through Arlo’s home. Platters cover the island between us, but my chef shifts between a steaming pot and a simmering pan.

“Will you get that, please?”

I leave Dobson and his blond-headed, big-boobed CEO of some Fortune 500 company date at the breakfast nook with wine, and I round the island, grabbing a baby quiche as I go. “If you eat this.”

Arlo’s gaze leaves the pan and finds the snack, then my eyes. “Only if you give me your lips first.”

“Hard bargain.” I press my lips to his. I expect a quick kiss, but he drinks at my mouth for several pulls. Then pulls back. His eyes are bright. “I love you.”

The words slip out. I’ve been waiting until this evening, but later, much later, when I give him his early Christmas present to tell him after everyone leaves.

His grin is huge. Like the Big Apple huge. “I know.”

My mouth falls open.

“You know?” I practically shriek.

“Of course, I know.” He sets the spatula on the counter, scoops me into his arms, and plants a crushing kiss on my mouth, sure to grow into more if people weren’t at the door. “I can read you like my favorite book, Hailey. I’ve known for a while, but it’s still fucking amazing to hear you say it.” He smiles. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Arlo.” I run my hands through his hair and hug him tight. “I’ve loved you for a while.”

He holds me tight. “I knew it.”

“You know how I said my dragon protects my heart?”

“Yes.” He kisses my nose.

“You are my dragon.”

“Bet your ass, I am.” He crushes me into his arms again.

The doorbell chimes once more. He hisses out one of his famous dragon huffs.

“Must be Karris.” I shove the little quiche into his mouth before he can say he knows again. “Impatient as ever.”

Arlo slaps my ass as I head for the door. I adjust my outfit and check my hair in a mirror in the corridor.

In the weeks since our Crave orgy, I’d fully expected things to get weird. Unstable when we came home to just one another. Odd when we met the group at a bar after work for drinks. Uncomfortable when the group went out for dinner. Wobbly when the two of us fucked. Awkward when I showed up at his office for an in-house lunch. Distressing when planning a Christmas party before Arlo and I head to France tomorrow.

To my utter amazement, none of it happened.

We’ve had the most glorious sex, with some nights bordering on lovemaking. Somehow, I’ve blended with his friend group in such a way that they feel more like family. A wealthy, wild, slightly dysfunctional family, but family all the same. Even Astor met us all for dinner last week, and it was wonderful.

I open the door without checking the peephole since we’re expecting people. And then I scream.

My aunt screams too as she launches herself into my arms. Laurent covers his ears and mutters in French about how loud American women are.

“About as loud as you are when you come, Frenchie,” Nat quips.

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