Page 254 of The Lies We Play

Her body shakes.

I feel the sound she makes around me.

“Look at him,” I tell her.

Her eyes turn down.

Halston is already looking up at her, mouth wet, gaze locked on her face like nothing in the world matters more than making her come. Liv’s hand searches for him blindly, and he catches it, lacing their fingers together on her stomach as his mouth returns to her.

That image goes into me and stays.

My hand tightens in her hair.

“Fuck,” I whisper.

Liv’s eyes come back to mine.

She takes me deeper.

I stop breathing.

For one second, I see it clearly. The terrible, perfect shape of us. Halston’s mouth on her. Her mouth on me. My hand in her hair. His hand in hers. Love moving through our bodies because words have never been enough for what we keep surviving.

I move my thumb along her cheek.

“Easy,” I tell her, though I’m the one unraveling.

Her answer is another moan, and Halston’s tongue makes her hips jerk beneath us.

The night narrows to this.

Just Liv, spread between the men who love her, taking us both because she asked, because she wanted, because for once she let herself be the center without apologizing for it.

Halston lifts his eyes to mine.

I nod once.

Keep going.

He does.

Liv’s body bows under us, and her hand grips mine like she knows the fall is coming.

I hold on.

So does he.

Then her fingers tap my thigh.

Once.

Twice.

Everything in me stops.

I pull back immediately, breath rough, one hand going to her cheek. Halston freezes between her legs, his mouth leaving her with care so fast it almost hurts to watch. His hand stays on her hip, not holding her down now. Grounding her. Waiting.

“Liv?” I ask.