Chapter 32 #2
I take the fabric lower, inch by inch, and follow it with my mouth.
My teeth graze the inside of her thigh, not enough to hurt, but enough to make her knees go weak.
She squirms, and Halston catches her before she can move too far, one arm wrapping around her middle, his palm flat beneath her breast.
I look up.
The image nearly kills me.
Liv naked above me now, except for the underwear caught around one knee. Halston shirtless behind her, holding her upright, his mouth close to her ear, his eyes fixed on me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking because he’s thinking it too.
I kiss her thigh again.
Higher.
She makes a sound that is half protest, half plea.
“Creed.”
I smile against her skin and pull the underwear the rest of the way down. She steps out of it, first one foot, then the other, and I let the fabric fall.
Then I see the tattoos.
I press my mouth to it first, and Liv goes very still.
I kiss the hawk slowly.
Not teasing now.
Thanking.
Her fingers loosen on Halston’s arm, and her hand comes down to my hair again, gentler this time. That gentleness fucks me up more than the grip ever did.
I move to the key next.
Two hearts linked in the keyhole.
Halston’s breath changes behind her.
He sees where my mouth goes.
He knows what it means.
I drag my lips over the ink, then my tongue, and Liv trembles between us. Not from embarrassment. From being loved in a place she chose to mark. From having both of us here, watching, touching, understanding that the tattoos are not decoration.
They are proof she made room for us under her skin before the world made room anywhere else.
I press one more kiss to the key.
Halston’s mouth leaves her temple, and he looks down at her with that dangerous restraint of his. “Use words, Liv.”
Her eyes open.
For half a second, irritation saves her.
“Both of you are insufferable.”
“Yes,” Halston says.
I kiss the underside of her breast, then close my mouth over her nipple, slow and firm enough to make her argument break apart.
“And?” I ask against her skin.
Her lashes flutter.
Her body leans back into Halston’s, then forward into my mouth, caught between us exactly where she belongs.
“And don’t stop,” she says.
Halston’s hand glides from her jaw to her throat, not gripping, just resting there, thumb beneath her chin as he tips her face back to his. He kisses her while I suck her slowly, her body trembles between us, and her hands grabbing at both of us as if she can’t decide who to hold onto first.
I reach for him.
My hand finds his hip.
He looks at me.
I pull him closer.
Liv is between us, her back against his chest now, my mouth on her breast, my fingers tightening on his hip.
His body is hard behind her. I can feel it in the way she reacts, the way her hips shift, the way her eyes go widen when he presses closer and she realizes exactly how much he wants this too.
“Hal,” she whispers.
Halston pulls back from her mouth.
He looks at me over her shoulder.
He says, “Lafontaine.”
“Yeah?”
“Bed.”
“Yeah.”
I bend and pick her up.
Her legs come around my waist. Her arms come around my neck. Her face, when I straighten with her, is closer to mine than it has been all night, and her eyes are open, cheeks dark, mouth swollen from us.
For a second, I forget where I’m taking her.
That happens with Liv.
She can be naked in my arms, her thighs locked around me, her breath warm against my mouth, and still manage to look at me as if she is about to ask whether I’ve eaten dinner, reviewed my travel schedule, and considered the long-term emotional consequences of whatever terrible idea I’m having.
I kiss her because I can’t answer any of that.
Not tonight.
Halston is already at the bed, pulling the covers back and draping them over the chair with the efficient focus of a man who has never once let desire make him careless.
His shirt is gone. His hair is a wreck from Liv’s hands.
His mouth is wet from kissing her. He looks up as I carry her closer, and his eyes drag over both of us.
There is heat there.
There is also reverence.
That is the thing about Halston. The world made him learn suspicion before it taught him tenderness, but when he gives tenderness, he gives it with his whole body. No decoration. No performance. Just attention so intense it feels like being held in a light.
I lay her down.
Liv’s hair spills across the pillow. Her knees part for me without her realizing it, then she notices and starts to close them. Halston’s hand lands gently on her ankle.
“Don’t,” he says.
Her eyes move to him, then to me.
“I wasn’t,” she says, too fast.
I smile. “You were preparing a strategic retreat.”
“I was assessing room temperature.”
Halston’s thumb moves once over her ankle. “Room temperature is fine.”
“It is absolutely not fine. It’s—”
I bend and kiss the inside of her knee.
The argument breaks.
Her lips part. No words come out.
That little victory goes straight to my cock.
I stand at the side of the bed and finally let myself look at them together.
Liv spread across Halston’s sheets, naked and flushed, her body marked by our mouths and the ink she chose for us.
Halston beside her, shirtless, controlled, watching me like he knows I am one breath away from either taking charge or dropping to my knees.
Both are true.
“Take off your pants,” I tell him.
Halston’s eyes lift to mine.
A pause.
Not defiance. Recognition.
He likes this version of me. The one that sounds calm because the alternative is begging. The one that gives directions because if I stop directing, all this want will spill out of me in some humiliating, permanent way.
He reaches for his belt.
Liv watches.
Of course she does.
Her eyes follow his hands as he opens the buckle, pulls the leather free, and lets it fall over the chair.
Then the button. The zipper. Each small sound lands in the room with obscene clarity.
Halston is quiet while he undresses, but his body gives him away.
His stomach tightens. His breath shortens.
His cock is already hard beneath the fabric, and Liv sees it at the same time I do.
Her hand slips down to the sheet.
She grips it.
I catch the movement.
So does he.
Halston pushes his pants down, then his briefs, and steps out of both. He stands there naked, lean and toned, all controlled strength and beautiful restraint, his cock flushed and thick, jutting toward his stomach, already wet at the tip.
Liv inhales.
That sound does something vicious to me.
I take my time with my own clothes because they are watching me now.
Both of them.
Halston with that dark, watchful hunger. Liv with her lips parted, eyes too bright, trying to look bold and failing in the prettiest way. I pull my shirt over my head and drop it. My belt follows. My pants. My briefs. The cool air hits my skin, but it does nothing to calm me.
I am hard enough to hurt.
Liv’s gaze drops, then lifts quickly like she has been caught doing something impolite.
I move onto the bed and crawl over her body, not touching where she wants me yet. My mouth goes to her hip first. Then her stomach. The center of her chest. I kiss her like I have time, even though my pulse is driving too fast and my body wants inside every possible version of this moment.
Halston climbs onto the bed on her other side.
Liv’s breath changes when the mattress dips.
That is the sound I will remember.
The tiny shift of a woman realizing both of us are coming for her and neither of us plans to leave her unattended inside it.
I look at Halston over her body.
His hand is on her thigh. His thumb rests near the crease of her hip, not moving.
Waiting.
Always waiting until he knows she wants him there.
“Liv,” I say.
Her eyes find mine.
“You still want this?”