Page 97 of The Charlie Method

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.”

“Stop trying to trick me into touching myself.”

Beckett leans in closer, his lips grazing my ear. “Stop pretending you don’t want to.”

A rush of heat pools between my legs.

“I…” I start, but the words catch in my throat.

“You what?” Will’s voice is low. Seductive.

It’s all so much, too much, but in the best possible way. The teasing, the way they’re both looking at me like I’m the only thing in the room that matters.

It’s addictive.

“I think I’d ratheryoutouched me.”

There.

It’s out in the open.

Hanging in the ever-thickening air.

With a faint smile, Will leaves the whiskey on the table and walks toward us. My pulse speeds up when he settles on my other side, resting his hand against my hip. Beckett’s fingers curl over my thigh, stroking gently.

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