Page 70 of How to Lose a Pack in 10 Dates

I might be dying.

She shifts again, this time settling fully between us like a queen on her throne. Her legs stretch out, one resting across my lap, one tangled with Jace’s. She nibbles on a gummy bear, then licks a bit of sugar off her lip in a move thathasto be illegal.

“You’re both being really quiet,” she says with a pout. “I’m starting to feel unloved.”

“You’realwaysloved,” Jace murmurs, leaning in. “You’re the fucking plot twist.”

“Oh?” Her tone turns coy. “Then you won’t mind if I do this.”

She turns her head and kisses him. There’s no hesitation, no buildup: she just leans over andtakesit, her fingers curling around the front of his shirt. He groans into it immediately. His hand goes to her waist, grip firm, and she makes this soft noise—

And I don’t know what to do with myself.

When they finally break apart, she’s flushed and smug, lips kiss-bitten and breathless.

And then she turns to me.

“Hi,” she whispers, still cradling Jace’s jaw with one hand. “Miss me?”

Before I can blink, she’s kissingme.

She presses in close until there’s nothing but heat and skin and the soft gasp of her breath against mine as her free hand slides behind my neck and pulls me in. Her lips part on a sigh, coaxing mine open, and I swear I lose about five brain cells trying to remember how kissing works.

Her thumb strokes the side of my throat while her nails scrape lightly through my hair as she deepends it, and my own hands hover uselessly at my sides until instinct takes over and I grab her waist.

Aimee melts into it. Her body presses flush against mine, all soft curves and dangerous intent as her scent wraps around me. It’s muted, but somehow still rich—omega-slick under the surface seeping past every suppressant patch and straight into my bloodstream.

I don’t even realize I’ve made a sound until Jace laughs beside us.

“Told you he’d short-circuit.”

Fuck: he’s not wrong.

She likes this, I can tell. She enjoys the power that this gives her. She’s feeding us both the same smile, the same teasing glances and too-soft moans, the same intoxicating scent that’s seeping past every suppressant she wears—

And it’sworking.

Jace’s mouth trails down her neck, pressing lazy, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. I catch her mouth again, slower this time, drawn in by the way she sighs into me. Her hands are everywhere—one clutching the front of Jace’s shirt, the other fisted in mine, pulling both of us closer with equal intensity.

Her legs shift, spreading wide to straddle the bench seat, one bare thigh bracketing mine, the other pressing against Jace’s hip. Her tiny shorts ride even higher with the movement, and every inch of skin she reveals makes me dizzy.

She doesn’t choose between us. She doesn’t have to.

We’re already hers.

She leans back in the seat, her lips kiss-swollen, eyes heavy-lidded and gleaming. Her fingers slip under the hem of her sweatshirt as if she’s toying with the idea of removing it, but then thinks better of it, just to keep us suffering.

“This movie’s awful,” she murmurs, voice syrupy-soft. “Butthisis my favorite part.”

Her scent’s gotten thicker, sweeter—all spun sugar and slick and the beginning of a heat I don’t think she’s supposed to be having. It curls in my lungs and wraps around my brain, and all I want to do is bury my face in her neck andbreathe.

Jace shifts beside her, one hand sliding boldly up her thigh. “Yeah?” he says, voice low. “What part’s that?”

She hums and tilts her face toward him, catching his mouth again—this time with tongue. I watch with wide eyes as she kisses him, and when she pulls away, she doesn’t hesitate.

She turns back to me.

“Cam,” she smiles, all batted lashes and full lips.

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