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Noah grabbed my hips and yanked me against his body. “I can’tstandit,” he said in a low voice.
My bare skin pressed against his firm abs. “S-stand what?”
His eyes glittered with golden desire. “You know what you’re doing.”
I didn’t.
I felt a hand on my jaw, turning my head and my lips collided with Sam’s.
Noah snuck his hand into my black, lacy bra and pinched my nipple.
I moaned through the kiss and arched my back.
“You look so fucking good, you know that?” Sam whispered in my ear.
My eye went to Noah’s mirrored dresser, and I could see the guys sandwiching my body.
Noah leaned down and started kissing down the column of my neck, his warm saliva taking steps toward my collarbone.
My body shuddered.
I whimpered as chills raced up my spine.
Sam’s hands left my skin. I couldn’t see what he was doing, but then I heard the softflumpas his shirt landed on the floor in a heap.
Then I felt his warm, hard abs press against my back and his lips returned to mine.
I lost myself in the kiss and all my remaining thoughts disappeared.
A whirl of kisses and touching and sensations and overwhelming desire overtook me. The next thing I remember, I was on the bed, looking up at Sam and Noah, both naked.
My black, lacy bra was already gone—one of them must have pulled it off while I was kissing the other.
Sam sucked on my puckered pink nipple, switching back and forth just like he did the first time we hooked up.
Noah rose to his knees, all muscle and hard lines. I let my eye trace the lines of his hard cock, his muscley thighs, and lingered near the dimple of muscle next to his ass.
God, he had the perfect ass—
Sam switched nipples again.
“Ah!” I cried, arching my back.
I felt a tugging sensation next to my thighs and realized Noah must have been pulling down my panties. They glided down my legs.
Sam looked up at me—I saw his bright blue eyes gleaming in the afternoon sun.
It was so hot looking at him like that from this angle—the pleading expression in his eyes, rimmed by his gorgeous long black lashes. He acted all tough and in control, but the way he was looking at me now was more than just watching me.
He was begging. Pleading.
Whenever we had sex, he always gave me that look. And up until now, I hadn’t known what it meant. I thought it had just been a look of lust; of wanting.
But now I understood what he wanted.
He wanted that connection.
He wanted to deepen it. He wanted something to hold onto.
