Page 70 of Picture Perfect

I wish I had answers for you, beautiful. But, I'm just as confused as you are.

"Are you sure you're okay?" The question is a whisper, a plea for honesty in the silence that blankets us.

She nods, but there's a tremor in her smile. "I am, Chess. Really." Her voice is steadier than her hands, which rest fidgety in her lap.

"Promise?" The word hangs between us, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid, every shared moment of vulnerability and strength.

"Promise," she affirms, and something akin to relief washes over me, my heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm. But it's short-lived.

Dre's hand is on her. She flinches, but makes no move to stop him. I watch his hand on Addy's thigh, his pinky finger teasing under the hem of her skirt. The action is bold, possessive, and it sends a jolt straight through me. My heart kicks against my ribs, a frenzied drumbeat echoing in my chest.

"Addy?" I question, searching her expression for any sign of discomfort or fear, but all I find is anticipation threading through her hitched breath.

"Chess," she breathes out my name, and it's laced with a million unspoken words. There's a heat in her gaze that mirrors my own, a fire that Dre's touch has stoked within us both.

Dre's hand ventures higher, emboldened by her silence. His finger traces the elastic edge of Addy's panties, and I catch the subtle shift in her posture. She tenses, a deer caught in headlights, yet her eyes are locked onto mine, pleading for something I can't quite decipher.

"Chess," she whispers, an uncertain tremor in her voice.

"Shh, I've got you," I assure her, my grip on her face firm but gentle, a lifeline in the storm I'm sure Dre's touch is conjuring. I've been there. He's...all consuming.

"Snowflake," Dre murmurs, his voice barely above a breath as his fingers dance precariously close to forbidden territory. His free hand comes up to frame her throat.

Addy's breath hitches again, and I fight the urge to knock Dre's hand away, to claim her reactions as mine alone. But there's a part of me that wants to see how far this goes, how much she can take before she breaks.

"Addy," I breathe out her name like a prayer as Dre shifts closer, his lips brushing against the soft skin of her shoulder. I watch, entranced, as he peppers kisses upward, each one light as a feather yet searing enough to leave a trail of fire.

"Chess..." Her voice cracks, and it's my undoing.

I lean in, capturing her lips with mine, pouring every ounce of pent-up frustration and desire into the kiss. It's not just about claiming her; it's an admission of need, of the raw emotion that she stirs within me. I can feel Dre’s fingers caressing my throat as he squeezes just a little tighter.

"Please," she gasps against my mouth, her hands clutching at my shirt, pulling me impossibly closer.

"Nothing else matters right now, Addy," I whisper between kisses, "Just this, just us."

Dre's presence fades into the background, his touch and his kisses a distant sensation as I lose myself in the taste of her, in the feeling of her body pressed against mine. We're a tangle of limbs and longing, and for a moment, nothing else in the world exists.

The car's engine hums, a low growl that matches the tension thrumming through my veins. Addy's breath comes in short gasps, and I can feel her pulse racing beneath my touch.

"She's staying with us tonight," Dre's voice is a raspy command, his fingers still daringly close to forbidden territory.

"Like hell she is," Gen's sharp retort slices through the thick air from the front seat. "She's staying with me, end of discussion."

I want to argue, to stake my claim, but before I can form the words, Saint's booming voice cuts through the chaos.

"Knock it the fuck off, all of you." His tone brooks no argument, and even Dre pauses at the command.

Addy's breath hitches, a soft whimper escaping her lips just as Dre's hand retracts from her thigh. My gaze locks onto his fingers, slick with her arousal, as he brings them to his mouth with an audible growl. The sound reverberates against the leather of the backseat, and for a split second, I'm consumed by the raw intensity between us.

"Saint's right," I finally say, my voice hoarse with restraint. "We can't do this here, not like this."

"Chess..." Addy's whisper is a fragile thread tying me to sanity.

"Soon." Dre hums. "So fucking soon."

Chapter thirty-four

Addy

---