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She licked her suddenly dry lips and, maintaining the eye contact with Tristan, said, “Yes. I remember everything. As I have clearly demonstrated, I lack inhibitions in the bedroom.”

Tristan’s mouth swept over hers and he murmured, “One of the many, many things we adore about you.”

Nate released her and stepped back.

Taking Liv’s hand again, Tristan guided her onto the deck, to the elevated hot tub in the corner, with a partial privacy wall along the side not facing Bayfront, she noted. Nate followed.

“Sit.” Tristan gestured to the thick sienna cushions lining the bench semi-encircling the tub.

She did as instructed. This far out into the harbor, Liv didn’t think anyone could see the three of them unless they had a telescope trained on this particular spot—and it’d have to be of the magnitude of the observatory’s, which had closed a couple of years ago. Yet she still felt like a voyeur’s prime target.

That should have alarmed her. Rather, a scintillating edge crept in on her.

She had only a general idea of what Tristan had up his sleeve this evening. He liked ties and toys. He’d wanted to experiment on Liv when the three of them had gotten together—and she’d been more than happy to oblige, handing over her vibrator at one point. Reaping the benefit from Tristan’s active imagination.

Of course, she’d likely have to exercise her library voice this evening when he made her come, so that she didn’t fill the marina with her cries of euphoria. Hopefully, the sultry music would drown out the moans.

Tristan eased to his knees in front of her and rummaged around in a bag Liv hadn’t noticed previously, extracting a dark-blue silk sash.

She clamped down on her instantly trembling lower lip. She shouldn’t be so elated over being at his mercy, considering all that remained unresolved amongst them. Yet she had first-hand knowledge that Tristan’s light bondage fetish had nothing to do with pain, little to do with control over her, and plenty to do with pleasure.

He said, “Lean back, hands on the cushion.”

His commanding tone excited her even more.

She flattened her palms on the padding, slightly behind her hips. Tristan surprised her by pulling the wide strip of silk through a wooden slat between the cushions, wrapping it around one of her wrists, and tying it with a bow. He collected a second sash and did the same with the other wrist.

Liv’s breathing kicked up, as did her pulse.

“Spread your legs,” he said in a gruff voice, his own excitement ratcheting.

She followed his bidding and he raised her leg so that her foot rested on the bench seating. He secured her ankle, then tied the other one to a metal loop on the floor, close to the half-wall.

She was spread wide open, offering Tristan easy access to her.

All the while Nate quietly watched, slowly popping the button of his tuxedo pants and sliding the zipper down its track.

Liv was practically dripping with anticipation—and the delicious sight of Nate.

Distracting her, Tristan propped a pillow against the ledge behind her, at the same level as the top of the tub, so she could lean back comfortably.

“Are you going to blindfold me?” she asked, breathless. Tristan had said that was another fantasy of his.

“Not tonight,” he told her. “I want you to watch what I do to you.”

Her inner walls clenched as the throbbing began deep in her core.

His hands skimmed over the tops of her bare thighs, his thumbs sweeping along the insides. Then they grazed her folds, rubbing back and forth. The anticipation mounted.

God, she wanted him. Needed him.

Needed them both.

She squirmed restlessly as Tristan continued to caress her dewy flesh. He had to know he drove her wild with his slow seduction.

“Tristan,” she muttered, a quiet plea.

His head dipped and his tongue flicked over her clit. Heat flooded her veins.

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