I’m surrounded.
Completely encased by these four boys.
And it feels unbelievably good.
Lincoln must sense my body relaxing incrementally under their touch, because he deepens the kiss, asking for more, letting me take more.
And I do.
My fingers cling to his and my body undulates in the water as my tongue slides into his mouth, translating every sensation I’m feeling into our kiss.
The hands touching me grow a little bolder—not pushing too far, but exploring new parts of me, moving slowly and deliberately as they gauge my reaction.
Just when I think I might never come up for air again, Lincoln breaks our lips apart, staring down at me with dilated, half-lidded eyes. Then, without warning, he spins me in the water, turning me to face River. The twins release their hold on me but resume their exploration as soon as I come to a stop, and now I feel Linc behind me as River lifts a hand out of the water to trace the line of my jaw.
My clit is throbbing, pulsing in time to my heartbeat as my breath comes faster.
I didn’t know I would like this so much.
But I do.
I really fucking do.
River doesn’t push. He just waits. And it doesn’t take long for his patience to pay off. Lincoln’s hand presses lightly against my lower back—not so much a command as an invitation—and it breaks the last thin thread holding me back.
He’s okay with this.
He wants me to.
With that thought ricocheting around in my head, I move forward through the water and press my lips to River’s. We’ve only kissed once before, but somehow, it feels familiar, like we’ve done it hundreds of times. Like we know each other’s bodies and idiosyncrasies by heart.
The pool house is quiet, just the soft sound of our breathing and the water lapping against the edge of the pool filling the high-ceilinged space.
Everything about River’s kiss is different than Lincoln’s—the taste of him, the feel and shape of his lips, the patterns his tongue moves in. One isn’t better than the other, but the contrast between the two boys is striking, and it stokes a fire low in my belly.
Lincoln’s hands are sliding over every wet inch of my skin he can reach, and the sound of my breathing bounces off the walls as it grows sharper and louder.
Just when I think I might drown in River’s kiss, fingertips grasp my chin, turning my head away from the brown-haired boy. Dax grins at me before his gaze drops to my lips.
I haven’t kissed him yet. I’ve felt his lips on me, but I’ve never pressed mine against his.
No time like the present to fucking fix that.
Not giving myself time to freak out or chicken out, I lift my head, craning my neck a little to reach for him. River’s focus shifts to my chest, his mouth roaming over the wet skin beneath my collarbone, as Dax kisses me.
His lips are different too.
His taste is different.
It’s different than Chase even, despite how similar the twins are.
And it’s hot as hell.
“Fuck, Harlow,” Lincoln mutters behind me, sliding his fingers around to my front and dipping them beneath the soft fabric of my bra. When he catches my nipple between two fingers and pinches gently, I buck in their hold, gasping into Dax’s mouth.
Oh fucking Jesus.
The boy with the copper mane must like my reaction, because his kiss deepens, becoming hotter and more demanding.