Page 147 of Triplet Babies for my Ex's Best Friend

I don’t know, in that moment, whether I’m going to say or do something.

Her gaze drops, briefly, to my mouth.

I stand, closing the distance between us.

My hand settles lightly at her jaw, fingers warm against her skin, and there’s a moment, just a fraction of one, where everything could still stop.

It doesn’t.

Her hand comes up as I finally kiss her, fingers curling lightly into the front of my shirt, pulling me closer in a way that eraseswhatever distance was left between us. The restraint fractures under the pressure of it, the memory of the plane, the tension of the past few days, all of it collapsing into desire.

Her mouth is warm, soft, and entirely unsteady in a way that makes my chest tighten.

I deepen the kiss without thinking, my hand sliding from her jaw to the back of her neck, holding her there.

I don’t want to let her go.

I might not ever want to.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Addy

I pull back just enoughto look at him properly, and that's where I lose the last of my remaining common sense, because he’s not composed anymore.

Not in the way he usually is.

The control is still there, yes, but it’s thinner now, stretched tight over something warmer, more human. His eyes are darker, focused entirely on me like I’m the only variable in the room that matters.

Which is deeply unhelpful.

“Addy,” Ethan murmurs. “I want you.”

My laugh sticks in my throat as his hands ghost down my ribcage, then more greedily, and I burn under his gaze.

Ethan studies me with a devotion that feels almost foreign. It’s terrifying and exhilarating, and it makes my skin ignite in a way no amount of tequila shots ever could.

The muscles in his forearms ripple as he holds me up. His mouth is on my jaw, working its way down, tasting the salt and sweat, and he laughs when I squirm into him.

“Addy, I need you.”

I can’t form a sentence.

He watches me flounder, a wicked smile flickering at the edge of his mouth, and I’m certain that if I don’t answer, he’ll stop altogether, collect himself, and leave me a cold, trembling mess. I dig my nails into his biceps, anchor myself there.

“Don’t fucking stop,” I manage, so desperate I sound almost angry.

His mouth parts like he’s going to say something snide, but instead he kisses me again, slower this time, savoring.

Ethan lets me taste the shape of his restraint. The way his tongue finds mine, then recedes, then returns, until I’m chasing him, heat pooling in places I didn’t know I could ache.

Every measured movement's an examination, a calculation, and I think he’s running some kind of experiment, tracking my reactions, logging each gasp and twist as data points to help him proceed.

It makes me feel both small and enormous, laid out and dissected, but prioritized, the core of every rapidly spinning neuron in this maddening man’s brain.

He shifts, and the motion slides my ass hard against the lip of the table. I yelp, and he laughs, actually laughs, a sound that makes the hairs on my arms stand up.

“Damn, your body is screaming for me.”