Page 69 of Finding Their Place

“Don’t,” I whispered, my pulse pounding in my throat and hindering my voice.

He glanced over his shoulder, his palm on the door. One eyebrow raised, he studied me while I fought to calm my racing heart. I still couldn’t come out and say it, damnit. Me, the one with no filter.

“You want him to hear me fuck you?” Wyatt asked, searching my face.

I sat up to pull my sleep shirt off overhead, giving myself time to form words. “I…I think he likes to listen?”

I’d gone with a matching bra and panties set—virginal white even though I was far from innocent, and Wyatt let out a low groan.

“Fuck, Haley.” He turned toward me, leaving the door open, and prowled across my room. He ripped off his shirt. Shoved down his jeans.

The lack of boxers or briefs left him gloriously naked, and goddamn, the man looked fine as fuck. All tanned muscles and tattoos, and that leaking cock…

Wyatt wrapped his hand around his length, slowly jacking as he neared the bed. “Think he’d like to watch rather than just listen?”

I jerked my focus upward to find heat in his blue eyes. “Why? Are you an exhibitionist?”

He stood beside the mattress, still lazing his hand up and over his erection. Sexual energy rippled between us, but I waited for him to make a move.

“I could be,” he finally said glancing down over my sprawled form, “if he’s interested.” His pale eyes returned to my face. “Why don’t you take your sexy little ass out there and ask? Bet you an orgasm he’ll go straight for you the second he sees you in that lace.”

For once, I didn’t snort at the suggestion Garrett might have more than platonic feelings for me. The memory of his hard length pressing against me kept questions of his sexuality flitting through my brain, but I couldn’t make sense of it. That hard-on had to be for Wyatt—there’s no way my koala would lie to me.

Sharing would mean watching.

And I lusted for that almost as much as I did Wyatt’s dick deep inside my throbbing core.

Fuck. Okay. I can do this.

My insides quaked like a magnitude 8 on the Richter scale, but my legs held me up when I slid off the bed to stand in front of Wyatt. I rested my hand on his bare chest, the heat of him searing my palm.

“Is this what you want?” I asked, my head tipped back to search his eyes. We hadn’t discussed a relationship or exclusivity, but I checked-in to make sure we were on the same page because I felt too drawn to him as a person to fuck things up between us.

His slow smirk shifted all the feels inside me, pulsing need through my core. “Yes—but only if you do too.”

Any capacity…

I needed Garrett happy. Craved it as much as I did his hands on me.

At least I could have one of those.

I blew out a heavy exhale and headed toward my bedroom door.

The TV’s screen flashed with an action movie, and I neared the back of the couch, knowing Garrett laid there hugging that damn pillow. Was he still hard thinking about Wyatt? If he agreed to even be in the same room with us, I knew my insides would burn to a crisp from his eyes alone.

But given the chance to maybe have his hands on Wyatt…

God, yes.

I lusted to see the two of them together almost as much as I dreamed of both their bodies bracketing mine.

Sure enough, Garrett laid right where I’d left him.

Pulse thrumming, I leaned over the back of the couch, my boobs a nipple shy of spilling from the white bra I’d wrapped them in, my damp hair spilling down to caress his face.

Garrett shifted onto his back. His gaze caught on my tits, and he jerked his focus to my eyes. The black of his pupils still ate at the chocolate brown…and the tent in his sweats hadn’t wilted one goddamn bit.

“Want to watch?” I barely whispered the words.

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