Ava woke first.
Her body ached— not painfully, but in the unmistakable way of a night that stretched every boundary she had ever believed in.
Tristan’s arm was draped loosely over her waist.
Xander’s chest was pressed against her back.
For one fragile moment, she lay between them, suspended in the warmth of what they’d done, before reality rushed in.
“What have we done?” She thought to herself in hysteria.
Tristan stirred beside her, brushing his lips lightly against her shoulder.
Xander shifted, tightening his hold on her instinctively like he sensed something slipping.
Ava’s heart raced.
“Morning,” Tristan murmured, voice still rough from sleep.
Xander’s eyes opened at the sound. He studied Tristan over Ava’s shoulder. Measuring, calculating, already guarding his territory.
Av
