Page 143 of The Lies We Play

My arms tighten around her.

Her fingers flex once against my chest.

I think of Halston in the hotel room. His mouth on mine. I think of the three of us, and the way wanting one of them doesn't take me away from the other.

It brings me closer.

Fuck, it brings me closer.

Livia pulls back first, but only because she needs air. Her forehead rests near my chin. Her lips are parted. Her eyes are bright, half-annoyed, half-dazed, like she intends to blame me for what just happened.

I’ll take it.

“I’m happy to see your pretty face,” I say, trying to catch my breath, “but I didn’t expect to find you here.”

Her mouth curves. “That’s your official greeting?”

“It was the first draft.”

“Needs work.”

“I was distracted.”

“By socks?”

“By you in my sweater.”

She looks down at herself as if she has forgotten what she’s wearing, which is ridiculous because Liv never forgets anything she can use against someone later.

“This sweater defected,” she says. “It belongs to me now.”

“I noticed.”

“You didn’t file a complaint.”

“I’m choosing my battles.”

“Smart man.”

Not smart enough.

I’m not sure where we’re taking this—or when. Hal and I, in his hotel room, didn’t go all the way but we tasted each other. Enough to know. Enough to change the room every time we’re together now. And Liv—Liv has been here the whole time, in every decision I have delayed, every line I have refused to cross too fast.

I have wanted more with her.

So much more.

I have wanted her on this bed, in this sweater, saying my name without jokes around it. I have wanted her with Halston watching us from the doorway, or beside us, or between us, because the wanting has stopped arriving in separate rooms.

That is the part that makes me cautious.

Not out of fear.

But care.

For her. For him. For me.

We have to be careful with each other and for each other. No one gets rushed because the room gets hot. No one gets left behind because someone finally gets brave.