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Noah keeps his eyes on me as he glides the feather over the fabric of her shirt until he reaches the sliver of stomach showing. I focus on that skin as the feather meanders over her belly, and Quinn trembles violently, her fingers flexing to the point I know Noah is right—she’s going to leave nail marks imprinted on his skin.

Flashes of the last night Noah and I spent together hit like lightning, sharp and sudden. I remember the way he left red marks down my back, how I had to hide them for weeks after. And how he clung to me as he came, screaming my name.

Noah continues to stare at me as if he’s thinking of the same thing. His pupils have dilated, and his jaw is clenched. But that would be stupid of him, because we don’t like each other anymore. More importantly, because he’s here with his wife, who he’s holding in his arms and teasing her until I know she’s wet for him.

For him—not me. Not even for the both of us like I imagined in my shower last night. The shower that was supposed to stop me from having thoughts like this.

I run my tongue over my teeth before speaking. “Describe more of what she’s feeling, but describe it to her now, not me.”

Noah moves the feather to his opposite hand and trails it down Quinn’s other arm. At the same time, he uses the tips of his fingers on his free hand to glide down Quinn’s other arm, pulling at the sleeve of her shirt as he goes to reveal more of her rounded shoulder.

“Is this okay?” he asks. “I want to have access to more of you.”

“Green,” she says.

“Good girl,” I say before I can stop myself.

The hitch of Quinn’s breath mixes with Noah’s. I expect them to say something, because that wasn’t meant to be sexual, but she likes praise, and she used the traffic light system appropriately. Is it crazy that I’m proud of her for that? Maybe. But I can’t find it in myself to apologize, especially when Noah’s eyes have darkened, his own breaths coming out in shorter exhales to match Quinn’s.

That “else” I couldn’t name in his eyes is clear now: He’s turned on.

“You respond well to praise, Sunshine.” Noah sweeps his fingers down her shoulder and across her chest, teasing the edge of her shirt by her heaving breasts. “Your heart is beating so rapidly I can feel it.” He presses his hand over it, and a small moan slips from her lips.

His attention flips to me as he dips his hand beneath her shirt. He’s slow at first, waiting for Quinn to stop him, paying attention to her body language like he’s supposed to in this exercise. She presses further back into his chest, her head dropping to the side to rest on his shoulder and expose her neck to him, giving him the go ahead.

Distracted by the new skin, Noah kisses her pulse point, hand remaining where it is for now. “You’ve always loved when I kiss your neck.” He croons. “Do you like when I suck it?”

His mouth suctions against her throat, and Quinn hisses.

“Too hard,” he comments, his tongue soothing over the skin. “You like when things build, don’t you?”

Quinn hums her reply, and he lightly kisses down the column of bare skin, his hand moving from her chest to the basket to drop the feather and seek a new item. I’m happy with how fast Noah has fallen into the exercise. All he needed was a little push, to know how it worked, and now he’s a pro. I’m sure it helps that Quinn is so responsive, like putty in his strong hands.

Noah grabs the first new item he touches and pulls it out. His other hand tugs the fabric of her shirt down slightly. Every time she heaves a breath, the fabric slips further, revealing more of her tits that strain against her beige strapless bra cups.

Noah holds up what he’s taken out of the basket, drawing my attention from his wife’s breasts to the cylindrical purple tube in his hand. He doesn’t scold me for looking at Quinn, just like he didn’t scold me for touching her yesterday when I was helping her find her breath.

Noah’s eyes dart to the tube then back to me, a question in them.

“Turn the bottom part,” I say, my voice huskier than normal, a fact Noah realizes because he zeros in on my lips before he wets his own. He blinks a moment later and brings his other hand forward so he can do what I said. Soft buzzing whirs, and Quinn shifts between his legs, the vibrating sound most likely familiar to her.

“Your skin is flushed,” Noah murmurs before pressing his lips against her ear, “and the hair on your arms is standing on end.” He takes the small bullet vibrator and drags it back and forth on her forearm. “You’re holding your breath,” he notes. “Breathe, Sunshine.”

Quinn inhales deeply, and on the exhale, the fabric of her shirt dips lower, her cleavage on full display and the very tops of her dusky nipples peeking out.

“Good girl.” Noah’s eyes flit to mine as he praises her, a proud smirk on his lips. “You’re enjoying this,” he says to her while watching me. It sounds like he’s only talking to Quinn, but I know he’s talking to me—to the both of us.

I don’t respond, but my breathing is shallow, and I’m gripping my thighs just as tightly as Quinn is gripping Noah’s legs.

He drags the vibrator down her arm, over her white-knuckled hand. “Relax, Sunshine. I can tell how much you like this. Do what Beck said, and let go.”

Hearing him say my name while touching Quinn makes my cock ache. I know I’m hard; I don’t need to look down to see that I am. I’m sure Noah has noticed, but I’m doing my best to ignore it and remain professional like I said I would.

Getting aroused during this kind of retreat isn’t abnormal. It’s a natural human reaction when you’re deep in intimacy work. Usually, I can control it, often by letting my mind drift to something neutral.

Not with Noah and Quinn.

And not when Noah is looking at me like that, like he’s seeking my approval…or maybe my permission, silently hoping I’ll join them but not knowing how to ask.