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Completely complicit in her own sensual implosion.
What he hadn’t guessed was that she’d come with a long, ragged whimper with hardly any stimulation at all. Her heels beat against him, and her release poured through the fabric, a thick honey he couldn’t swallow fast enough. Through it all, she clutched his hair, bringing him against her, so close that the pulse of her clit beat against his lips.
“Better than I thought,” he whispered, breaking the silence once her panting had subsided.
He sucked in a breath and relished the perfume of her orgasm. He’d given her that. That sweet, tangy scent belonged to him now too.
She nudged him back with a hand on his shoulder, her expression way too intense considering the climax she’d just had. “I was going to ask you or Tris to take my virginity,” she said after a moment, still sounding breathless.
“Oh.” As the full weight of that sank in, he rocked back on his feet. “Either of us? Like whichever tool comes to hand?”
“No. Of course not.” She pursed her lips as if he’d just said something terribly offensive. “I figured we’d decide. As a group. Like we decide everything.” Her throat moved. “We’re best friends.”
“Best friends, right. Makes sense.” He shook his head. Wow, she’d taken her organizational planner life a little too far. “So you’re interviewing candidates. At least you’ve narrowed down the possibilities to two.”
“You’re making it sound—”
“Insane?” Matt shook his head. “No, absolutely not. It’s perfectly rational to ask your best friends which one wants to shoulder the responsibility of popping your cherry.”
“Shoulder? Excuse me? Who just had his tongue in my…”
“Pussy,” he said patiently. “A word you have no problem using when you’re pissed.”
She took a breath and didn’t answer.
“And my tongue was on top of it, not even in. I didn’t get that far.” He ignored the flush that crept up her neck and kept going. “You’re a keg ready to blow, short stuff, and just because you’ve decided whichever one of us is willing to do the deed is good enough doesn’t mean we’ll just go along.”
“Right. Sure. You’ll gladly screw each other, but me? Forget it. Even though you both supposedly wanted me, which is complete crap, and I’m sorry I believed it for even a minute.” She hopped off the table. “Thanks for the orgasm. I appreciate you favoring me with your speedy tongue.”
Regret jabbed his gut. He hadn’t meant to hurt her, but dammit, didn’t she get that he’d been hurt? How could she make sleeping with her into something they’d discuss as casually as which movie to rent?
“Cait, wait.”
“I’m tired, and I’m going to bed. We’re done talking. As for what happened with you and Tris, I’m done talking about that too. I don’t want you to tell him I saw you in bed tonight.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because it’s over.” She gave him a thin smile. “Hope you’re very happy together.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” he called after her, but she didn’t halt her rush upstairs.
Matt pulled out a chair and slumped into it.
God, could this mess get any worse?
Chapter 3
Cait didn’t sleep. She curled up in the center of her bed, staring at the wall that separated her from Tristan. Matthew’s set of rooms was on her other side.
Right ther
e, but so far.
In the past, she’d loved knowing her guys were only feet away. Not anymore. Now that knowledge was like a dozen knives slashing open her heart.
They were lovers. They undressed each other, kissed, touched each other’s naked bodies. And then, after all that, one of them thrust in the other’s ass and—
And then what? Did they curl up afterward and murmur endearments? Engage in pillow talk? Or mutter something manly and strut away?
