The realization sent a fresh gush of wetness over her fingers. She came with a choked gasp, thighs shaking, biting the pillow to stay quiet.
When the aftershocks faded, she lay there panting, staring at the ceiling.
They knew.
And tomorrow would only be worse.
Because no matter how hard she pretended, her body was already betraying her. And the three men sharing this house seemed more than happy to wait her out—patient, relentless, and clearly determined to win their filthy little bet.
Riley pulled the covers over her head and tried to ignore the growing ache that told her she might not hold out as long as she wanted.
But she’d be damned if she made it easy for them.
The next morning Riley woke to the low hum of male voices and the rich smell of fresh coffee drifting under her door.
