登入I couldn't answer. Couldn't think. His fingers were sliding through my folds, spreading the wetness, circling my clit with a pressure that made my knees buckle. I grabbed his shoulders to stay upright, my nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.He kissed me then—deep, hungry, his tongue sliding against mine as his fingers worked me. The taste of champagne was still on my tongue, and he swallowed it, made it his. His hand moved faster, his thumb pressing against my clit while his fingers teased my entrance, not pushing in, just—just there, just enough to make me ache for more."I want to taste you," he breathed against my mouth. "I've been thinking about it all night. Every time someone handed you a drink, every time you laughed, I was thinking about getting you alone and putting my mouth on you."He dropped to his knees.The sight of him there—Caleb Alexander, six-foot-four of muscle and mischief, on his knees in front of me in a dark hallway—sent a pulse of heat straight through
The party had finally bled out, the last of Callum's teammates stumbling toward the door with slaps on backs and promises to crush it tomorrow. I'd stayed in the kitchen, nursing the same glass of champagne until it went warm and flat, listening to the voices fade, the front door closing, the lock clicking into place.Footsteps. Not Callum's—heavier, slower. Deliberate.I set the glass down. Turned. And there he was, filling the doorway between the kitchen and the hall, his dark hair still damp from the shower he'd taken after everyone else had gone. He'd changed out of his game-day clothes into a gray t-shirt that clung to his chest like it was afraid to let go. His eyes found mine and held."Hey," he said. Low. Quiet. Like the word was just for us."Hey." My voice came out smaller than I meant it to.He crossed the kitchen in three strides, his hand finding mine, his fingers lacing through them. He didn't speak. Just tugged, gentle, leading me out of the kitchen and into the dark ha
Callum appeared in the hallway entrance, a towel around his neck, hair dripping. He'd changed into shorts and a loose t-shirt. "You okay?""Fine." I smiled, quick and easy. "Just tired.""Long day?""Something like that."He studied me for a second, his dark eyes searching my face for something I wasn't ready to give. Then he nodded. "Food should be here soon.""Good. I'm starving."He turned back toward the kitchen, and I heard the fridge open, the clink of bottles. The sound of normal. The sound of a brother who had no idea his best friend had been inside me.I pressed my thighs together, the ache between them a dull reminder of everything Callum didn't know. Everything he couldn't know. Not yet. Maybe not ever.Another door opened. Caleb's footsteps, lighter than Callum's, crossed the hallway. He appeared in the entrance, hair wet, wearing gray sweats and a loose t-shirt that clung to his chest. His eyes found me immediately. Found the jersey. Found my legs. Found my face."You sti
The front door swung open and the smell hit me first—turf, sweat, that sharp musky scent of two men who'd spent hours on a football field. I kept my eyes on my phone, thumb scrolling through nothing, pretending I hadn't been counting the minutes."Bella." Callum's voice, tired and familiar. His gym bag hit the floor with a thud. "You're still awake.""Barely." I stretched, letting the jersey ride up just enough to show a sliver of skin. "You guys smell like a locker room.""Feel like one too." Callum pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing the sweat-soaked compression shirt underneath. "Long practice."Behind him, Caleb stepped into the light. His hair was damp, dark strands clinging to his forehead, and his blue eyes found me before his lips found their smile. He was still in his practice jersey—same number as the one I was wearing. My stomach flipped."Hey, Bella." His voice was casual, but his gaze lingered a beat too long on my legs. "Didn't expect you to still be up."I shrugg
He kisses me, deep and slow, and begins to move.The first few strokes are careful, shallow, a test of my body's response. I feel the drag of him inside me, the subtle friction, the way my walls grip him with every retreat. The pressure has eased into something else, something I've never felt—a fullness that borders on pleasure, a building heat that makes me tilt my hips to meet him.He finds a rhythm, slow at first, his hips rolling against mine, and I feel the tension coiling again, different from before, deeper. His hand snakes between us, his thumb finding my clit, pressing in circles, and the dual sensation—him inside me, his thumb on that aching point—makes me gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders."That's it," he breathes. "Feel me, Bella. Feel how good we are together."His pace increases, just slightly, and the sound of our bodies meeting fills the room, wet and intimate. I feel the orgasm building, a wave rising from the deepest part of me, and I stop thinking, stop worr
I wake to darkness and the weight of him against my back, his arm still banded across my waist, his breath warm at the nape of my neck. The city glow filters through the blinds, painting stripes across the ceiling, and for a moment I just lie there, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the solid heat of his body pressed along the length of mine. His arm tightens, a reflex even in sleep, and I feel it—the hard curve of him against the back of my thigh, unmistakable even through the sheets.I hold still. My pulse flicks at my throat, and my body answers before my mind catches up—a slow, deep ache that spreads through my belly, my thighs pressing together. I don't know when we shifted in the night, but his hips have found the curve of my ass, and the thickness of him, half-hard and insistent, is pressed right there, right where I can feel every inch of what I couldn't take last night."Bella."His voice is gravel, rough with sleep, and I feel the word against my shoulder blades. He sh







