Page 232 of Ex Somnis

“Nerd.”

“Brat.”

Pudding lets out a tiny snuffle, and Ridge strokes her back. “Can you two flirt later? I’m trying to appreciate our girl’s crisis.”

“I’m not having a crisis.”

Ridge turns to me again, then raises an eyebrow. “You’ve adjusted that dress six times in the last minute.”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“I can have it off you in approximately twenty seconds,” Nevan offers.

“Oh, shut up.” I chuckle, and he grins.

Paul’s hand squeezes my knee. “I’ve been watching you all day in that dress. Feeding people. Laughing. Glowing. It’s been distracting.”

My heart stutters.

“Distracting how, Doc?” Nevan asks, but his grin is still on me.

“Our girl laughs differently when she’s happy.” His eyes find mine in the rearview mirror. “And every time you smiled at someone, I had to remind myself we were in public.”

Nevan groans dramatically.

“Jesus, Paul. Could you not be romantic right now? I’m trying to be inappropriate.”

“Fine.” Paul doesn’t even hesitate. “Distracting like I want to bend her over the nearest surface and remind her exactly who she belongs to.”

Nevan whistles.

“Which would be all three of us.” Ridge nods solemnly.

The car suddenly feels too small, and I shift in my seat, Paul’s fingers sliding the tiniest bit higher at the movement. A soft, needy sound slips out before I can catch it.

“Fuck,” Nevan mutters. “Are we home yet?”

Yeah, I’d like to know that too.

Ridge pops a sour lemon lollipop into his mouth, the stick bobbing as he speaks around it. “Greedy girl. One day of being the perfect hostess, and she’s already wet for us in the car.”

“I am not—” I start, but Paul’s fingertips press into my skin, and the denial dies in a shaky exhale.

“Lie to us again,” he says mildly, eyes on the road like he’s discussing the weather. “And I’ll pull over right now.”

“Yeah, rule number one.” Nevan’s hand finds my hair from behind, tugging gently so my head tips back. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Us taking care of you on the side of the road. I’d sit you on Ridge’s lap so he can hold you open while Paul and I push up that dress.”

“Nevan,” I warn, but it comes out breathless. My body is already responding to them, and I can feel myself turning wet after all.

Not that it would be an issue if I didn’t. Ridge keeps travel packets of lube in the glovebox, the console, and every fucking drawer in the house.

Just in case he wants to finger me.

Yeah, life’s good.

The rest of the drive dissolves into a haze of teasing touches and low promises. Paul’s fingers keep stroking lazily. Nevan keeps up a running commentary of exactly what he wants to do to me once we’re home. Ridge watches, lollipop clicking against his teeth, eyes dark with intent.

By the time we pull into the driveway, I’m trembling.