Page 157 of Good Losers (Lochkelvin Academy)

“Then again,” he murmurs in a strange, peaceful voice saved only for me, “I can’t exactly blame him for coming so soon. Not when you’re in front of him dressed like that.”

He admires me for a beat, open and pleased, like he’s the happiest man on earth knowing I belong to him.

“No matter what you have between your legs,” Rory begins mildly to Finlay, in contrast to the sharp look he shoots in his direction; the combination makes Finlay freeze on the spot, body hesitating and mind calculating, “you definitely have some size of balls on you.”

As he listens to Rory, Finlay tilts his head to the side and cocks a single dark brow.

Rory luxuriates in Finlay’s confusion. He stretches out on the bed, pulling his arms above his head, all the while pinning Finlay in place with his cool gray gaze.

“Don’t play coy,” Rory says with a humorless smile. In the headiness of the hotel suite, I’d forgotten how intense, how competitive the two of them could be when they’re together. When they’re fighting over something. “Bold of you to bone my girlfriend in my own house, mate.”

Me. Oh, God. They’re fighting overme.

But it’s not the fight I’d typically associate with Rory. He’s calm — incredibly calm — and this seems to have thrown Finlay off.

“We neverboned,” Finlay corrects, choosing the semantic argument as his trump card.

“I know,” Rory says in an agreeable tone, and Finlay looks taken aback. “Now you can.”

Finlay stares at him. Blinks at him. Opens his mouth slightly. “What?”

With another of those luxurious, feline stretches, Rory extends himself across the base of the bed. “She’s wet, Fin. She’s gagging to be fucked.” Blood rushes to my face, to my ears, to my clit. Suddenly, I feel a hundred times redder and a hundred times hotter. “So do it. Fuck her for me. Fuck my future wife while I watch.”

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