PARKER
And then Gavin does touch me. Just a brush of his knuckles down my arm, so light it makes me shiver. I turn to look at him, and whatever’s on my face must break something open in him, because in the next second, he’s kissing me too—no hesitation this time. Just fire. Hunger. A quiet sort of desperation.
Jack steps in behind me, one hand sliding around my waist, his chest at my back, mouth brushing my ear. “You have no idea how many times I almost broke down your door.”
“You could’ve,” I whisper.
He chuckles, voice low and hoarse. “Would’ve scared the neighbors.”
I laugh, but it’s shaky, because Gavin is still kissing me and Harrison’s fingers are tracing my wrist and Jack’s hand is inching lower like he can’t wait anymore.
But we’re not rushing this. We can’t. There’s too much
