Page 80 of Forever We Fall

“You can talk?” Her long blond hair is pulled into a high ponytail. The O of her lips is painted in a vibrant red.

I splay my hand, flourishing it, and offer a half shrug.

“I thought—” She cuts herself off, just registeringwhatI said, rather thanthatI said something. “I am not.” Her voice rises to an unbelievable pitch.

Hota steps behind her so close I know she can feel his cock brush her ass. His hand splays wide over her belly and pulls her back. His eyes, though, peer over her head. The hot, dark pools are on me.

Only me.

“Are you not?” he whispers into her ear and then snags her lobe between his teeth.

My cock pulses to life in my pants.

She moans. It echoes around the room. “I…I…” Her pink tongue comes out of her mouth and drags along her lips.

“Do you want me to touch you?” It seems he’s asking Miss Booth, but his eyes are insistent on me.

Fuck yes, I want you to touch me.

I long to scream the words, for them to be true, but every time I get close to begging Hota to touch me,heis there. He looms over my shoulder.Hespeaks ugly words.Hedoes terrible things.

Funny enough,heis nowhere to be seen right now. Not in my memory. Not in the echoes of the past. No, right now, it’s just Hota and me and Emily, a conduit of sorts.

I nod, encouraging her more than answering his question. Though we both know the full answer to it. Yes, I’d love it. I’m also terrified of it and can’t allow it. But this…

This is different.

Her gaze flits from Hota to me several times. She stammers again, grasping for words that seem to fail her.

“I don’t want to assume.” Hota moves to withdraw his hand.

“Yes,” she gasps. “Yes, I want you to.”

“Good.” His hand settles on her belly once more, and then slowly slides lower. Hota snags his lip in his teeth and snarls. His gaze practically burns me. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you.”

My cock rockets to attention, tenting my pants.

He adds another hand and skates it up under her shirt, aiming for her bra that shows faintly through the thin blouse she wears.

“But…Arlo,” she whimpers.

“Is enjoying the show,” Hota rasps. “Don’t worry. He won’t touch you, even if you want him to.” A choked gasp leaves her throat. His fingers play beneath her shirt, twisting and rubbing.

“Fuck,” I breathe.

He grabs her face and turns her gaze from me. Everything in me freezes. Panic bangs at the door of my lust.

Please, don’t kiss her. Please, don’t kiss her.

“I’m not fucking you,” Hota declares when she looks at him.

“Oh,” she stammers. He turns her back toward me, then releases her jaw.

“I’m going to make you come,” he says to us both.

Sweat slicks my chest. I want to pull the T-shirt over my head, but I don’t want Emily to see me. My scars are for Hota alone.

Hota gathers the bottom of her shirt into his hand and drags it up, exposing the curves of her waist and her lacy bra. Then he jerks it off her. “Open wide.”

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