Tristan reached for the laminated menu, then let it drop forgotten in his lap. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t concentrate on food at the moment, roaring stomach be damned.
He’d been having enough trouble all morning, between trying to forget the feeling of Caity’s mouth on his and his futile efforts to decipher the thick-as-mud tension between his two partners. Maybe he’d finally figure out just what the hell was going on in his own damn house.
Because something clearly was. Sometime between when Matt had gone downstairs to supposedly call his mother last night and this morning, something had transpired between Caity and Matt.
Whatever it was, that had to be the explanation for Caity kissing him this morning. He’d been turning it over all day, wondering why the hell she’d made a move on him. Why now? He certainly hadn’t minded. In fact, he was already counting the minutes until it happened again.
But still. Something had to have given her a push.
And he had a feeling he was looking at him.
“You kissed her,” Tris stated. “When?”
“Last night.”
“When last night? You were with me last night, if you’ve forgotten.” Even Tristan could hear the undercurrent in his tone. Hell if he could decipher if he was jealous about Matt getting with Cait—or vice versa.
Either way they hadn’t been with him.
“Yeah, I remember.” Matt banged his mouse. “I also remember looking at the doorway while you were cleaning up and realizing we had an observer.”
Tristan fisted his hands on the arms of his chair. “You’re not serious.”
“Deadly.”
“Jesus.” Tris closed his eyes and tried not to imagine what Caity had witnessed. “Did she—is she—”
“She’s all right. Now. She was shocked, but she got over it fast.” Again the smirk, and Tris’s stomach tightened. “I distracted her.”
“How?”
Matt arched a brow and shifted to face him, hands sprawled on his stomach. “Sure you want the gory details?”
“The details of how you clearly left my bed and went to hers? Why not?”
Though he wasn’t altogether sure he did. But he’d be damned if they left him out of the loop any longer.
But instead of Matt spilling, he reached for his soda and tipped it back to his mouth for a long swallow. Then he sighed. “She was pretty pissed and just as much hurt. I came down here to try to explain, but we started baiting each other and things went from there.”
Tris rolled his eyes. As if Matt and Caity sniping at each other was anything new. “Baiting each other about what?”
Matt lifted his head and stared him straight in the eye. “You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. We made it into a competition about which of us wanted you more. And then we circled around wanting each other. I’m still not really sure where we stand on that score. I mean, I know where I stand, and I know she wants use of my dick, but as for more than that, no clue.”
Tristan shook his head, trying to comprehend what Matt was telling him. “You fought over me. Then you fought over each other. And she wants use of your dick?”
“Yours too.” Matt saluted him with his soda. “Our little Cait has her share of needs, it seems.”
Tris picked up his own bottle of soda and rolled it between his palms. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said softly. “And I’m guessing what you’re leaving out involves sex.”
“Things escalated. But no, we didn’t have sex. She wanted to, though, as part of her big master plan.” Matt shrugged. “Let’s just say she had plans for both of us that went beyond quick kisses and fumbling clutches. And before you ask what kind of plans, use your damn imagination.”
“Already doing that,” Tris replied, his stomach roiling with the pictures his mind insisted on forming.
What exactly had happened? More to the point, what experiences had they shared without him?