Page 105 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I don’t respond immediately because I’m very aware of the exact point we’re standing on and how easy it would be to step past it.

She shifts slightly on the couch, turning toward me just enough that the space between us narrows. “I don’t want to mess this up.”

“Then don’t.”

She huffs out a breath. “You’re impossible.”

“Frequently.”

Her gaze drops briefly to my mouth.

Then back up.

I feel it, that shift, the same one from the kitchen, except this time there’s no distance left to pretend exists.

“Addy,” I say, low.

She inhales, about to say something… and then she doesn’t.

She just moves.

I close the distance before either of us can reconsider.

The moment our mouths meet, everything else drops out.

Her hand comes up immediately, fingers curling into the front of my shirt. I catch her at the waist, holding her as she leans into me, the tension from earlier shifting.

This isn’t the plane. There’s no recklessness here, or drama, just clarity, and that might be worse.

She exhales softly against my mouth, and I feel it as a shock straight through my chest. Then she pulls back. “We shouldn’t…”

I know exactly what she’s about to say. I don’t let her finish because if she does, she’ll mean it. I kiss her again.

And this time, she doesn’t stop me.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Addy

This is a mistake.

A catastrophic, life-altering,what the hell are you doingkind of mistake.

I know that.

I know that while my hands are still tangled in his T-shirt, while his mouth is still on mine, while every rational thought I have is currently being shoved into a corner and ignored like it’s optional.

I know it.

I just don’t stop.

Because the second he kissed me back, really kissed me, not careful or restrained, not pretending this was anything other than exactly what it is, everything snapped.

Every bit of control I had left is gone.

And now I’m here, pressed against him on his couch, heart racing, breath uneven, and fully aware that I'm actively ruining my own life.

“Addy,” he says, low, like it’s both a warning and something else entirely. “What are we doing?”