Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
Creed
Then . . .
Liv’s mouth is warm, and her skin smells like flowery soap.
Clean and soft and painfully Liv—who I missed so fucking much. She’s almost naked, she is unreal in a way that makes me quiet.
She’s in nothing but her underwear, dark against the soft curve of her hips, and the sight of her knocks the air out of me.
Her breasts are full and beautiful, nipples drawn tight in the cool air, her skin flushed in places my mouth hasn’t reached yet.
She is all softness and stubbornness and ridiculous competence, standing there like a goddess who would absolutely correct my expense report before letting me worship her.
Her hands come up to the back of my neck the way they always do. That familiar touch nearly breaks me before anything truly begins. She pulls me down, or maybe I go willingly enough that the distinction doesn’t matter. She says come closer, and I do, in the most immediate way I know how, complying.
Her mouth opens under mine.
I kiss her slowly at first because if I don’t, I’ll rush.
I know myself. I know what wanting her does to my control.
Her lips are soft, her breath uneven, and the first small sound she makes me lands somewhere deep enough to hurt.
She presses closer, breasts against my chest, one hand sliding into my hair, the other gripping the back of my neck like she’s making sure I stay exactly where she asked me to be.
I will.
That is the first truth of the night.
I will stay anywhere she puts me.
Halston, on her other side, hasn’t moved.
I can feel him there, even without looking. That is how it is with Hal. He can go still enough to make a room nervous. Watchful. Patient in a way that is never passive. He is waiting for the shift, for the invitation, for the moment where stepping forward becomes care instead of intrusion.
I kiss Liv until I feel her exhale against my mouth.
Until her shoulders lower.
Until the bright, overworked part of her starts to loosen its grip.
Then I pull back.
Just enough.
Her eyes open, dazed and suspiciously wet, as if pleasure has inconvenienced her schedule.
I look at her.
Then I look past her at him.
“Hal.”
His answer is immediate. “Yes?”
That does something to me.
Not the word. The readiness in it.
I say, “Come here.”
He steps in.
Halston closes the distance with that contained intensity that makes my skin heat even before he touches anyone.
His eyes move over Liv first, checking her face, her breath, her posture.
His hand settles on the small of Liv’s back, low, palm flat.
The same place I have touched her at three different black-tie events where we gave the public the version they were allowed to understand.
Friends. My plus one because she’s nice enough not to let me go alone.
Halston somewhere near us, quiet and impossible to define, wearing a suit like armor and watching every person who got too close to what was ours.
His palm spreads over her bare skin, and Liv closes her eyes.
That is the second truth of the night.
She’s still ours.
His other hand finds her jaw.
He turns her face toward him with small, precise care and kisses her.
I watch.
I always watch because it makes me feel full in a way that is difficult to survive.
There are things I never knew I wanted until I saw them together.
Liv’s mouth softening under his. Halston’s control cracking one breath at a time.
Her hand leaving my neck to grip his wrist, not to stop him, to keep him there.
They kiss like they are arguing without words.
Liv gives first, then takes it back. Halston lets her, then deepens the kiss just enough to make her fingers tighten. His thumb strokes once along her jaw, and she makes a sound between us—small, helpless, furious with herself for making it.
Fuck.
I feel it everywhere.
I lower my mouth to her shoulder because I need somewhere to put what it does to me.
Her skin is warm. The room is even warmer.
The air feels too close, full of breath and need and the tiny sounds people make when they are trying not to confess something too soon.
I kiss the curve of her shoulder, then the slope beneath her collarbone.
Her head tips toward Halston, her mouth still caught by his, and that exposes her throat to me.
I take the invitation.
My lips move there slowly. I feel her pulse beneath my mouth. Too fast. Alive and mine and his, not owned by either of us. I bite gently, and she breaks the kiss with Halston, gasping.
“Creed,” she moans.
I smile against her skin. “I’m here.”
“I noticed.”
Her voice shakes on the last word, so she adds attitude to cover it. My girl, trying to build a fortress out of sarcasm while half-naked between two men who know exactly where the gate is.
Then I kiss lower.
Her breath catches.
The first taste of her skin there, soft and warm beneath her collarbone, sends a pulse of heat through me.
I drag my mouth lower, over the rise of her chest, and have to pause for half a second just to look at her.
Her breasts are bare, full and beautiful, her nipples tight from desire and the way both of us are watching her.
I want my hands on her. My mouth. Halston’s mouth.
I want to see her held between us until every clever defense slips from her face.
Halston looks at me over her shoulder.
His eyes are dark.
I know that look.
It says, not too fast.
It says, don’t overwhelm her.
It says, I am already overwhelmed, but need more—both of you.
I slide one hand around Liv’s waist, holding her against me, while my other hand comes up to cover Halston’s where it rests on her back. His fingers tense under mine.
There.
A flinch most people would miss.
I don’t.
“Stay,” I tell him quietly.
His gaze snaps to mine.
Liv goes still between us.
The room changes.
That single word lands where all three of us can feel it. Stay. Not just here. Not just in the bed. Stay in the kiss. Stay in the wanting. Stay in the version of this where none of us steps back to make it easier for someone else to survive the feeling.
Halston’s jaw tightens.
Then he turns his hand under mine and laces our fingers together against Liv’s spine.
Her breath leaves her in one soft rush.
I kiss the top curve of her breast while Halston kisses her again.
This time, she gives in.
Not completely. Liv never does anything completely without first reviewing the consequences, objecting to two of them, then drafting a safer plan in her head.
But her hips shift back into Halston’s hand.
Her fingers curl into my hair. Her mouth opens for him, and I feel the sound she makes more than I hear it, feel it travel through her body and into mine.
That sound changes the room.
The air grows warmer. Closer. The low hum from the city fades behind the rush in my ears. There is only her between us, almost bare, breathing too fast. Halston behind her, watching everything. Me on my knees in front of her, my mouth on her skin, my hands at her hips.
I hook my fingers into the sides of her underwear.
Liv’s breath catches.
I look up at her.
Her eyes are on me, wide and dark and furious with need. That is what gets me. Not just the way she looks, though fuck, she looks beautiful enough to make a man forget every decent thought he’s ever had. It’s the fight in her face. The little war she wages every time she wants something too much.
I start to pull the fabric down.
Slowly.
Her hand tightens in my hair. “Creed.”
I stop at once.
Not far. Just enough to make her feel the pause.
“Tell me no.”
She moans instead.
Halston’s hand flexes at her waist, but he doesn’t move. His mouth hovers near her ear, his breath warm against her skin.
“What do you want, Liv?” he asks.
Her eyes open. I press my mouth to her hip and wait.
She swallows. “I want you to love me.”
My fingers tighten on the edge of her underwear.
Halston goes still behind her.
“Say the rest,” I tell her.
Her cheeks flush, and the look she gives me could cut glass. “You’re very bossy for a man on his knees.”
“And yet?”
Her breath shakes.
“I want you to take them off,” she whispers. “I want your mouth on me. I want Hal’s hands on me. I want you both to stop making me say things before I lose my mind.”
Halston’s mouth brushes her temple.
“No,” he says softly.
I smile against her skin. “We like hearing you ask.”
Her fingers leave my hair and reach behind her. At first, I think she’s grabbing Halston’s wrist, but then she catches the hem of his shirt and tugs.
A laugh almost leaves me.
Of course.
Of course, she would be half-naked, trembling, nearly out of her underwear, and still decide the room is unfair because Halston has too many clothes on.
“Liv,” he says.
“Off,” she whispers.
One word.
Soft. Commanding. Almost embarrassed by how badly she means it.
Halston looks at me over her shoulder.
I nod.
He pulls his shirt over his head.
The sight of him hits me low and hard. Halston is lean, all slim muscle and restrained strength, the toned body of a man who works out like he’s preparing for a fight he refuses to name.
His abs tighten when Liv’s hand drags down his stomach.
His skin is warm under her palm, his breath caught behind his teeth. For a second I just stare at them.
My two impossible people.
Her softness against his strength. His control wrapped around her desire. Her hand on his body while mine holds her hips. I want to put my mouth on both of them. I want to live inside this exact second until the rest of the world stops asking us to explain what we are.
Liv looks down at me.
My hands resume their slow path.
I drag her underwear lower, over the curve of her hips, down her thighs. She shifts, trying to help, but I press a kiss to her stomach.
“Let me.”
Her breath leaves her in a small broken rush.
Halston’s mouth moves to her temple. “Let him.”
She shivers.