Because it wasn’t funny, but my body didn’t know the difference between panic and arousal, and right now I was at the intersection of *holy s**t* and *praise the Goddess for making him like this.*
He touched my back again.
Just a drag of his fingers.
But it felt like claws.
Like a wish.
Rachele made a tiny, broken sound next to me, my perfect twin, my perfect mirror.
And it hit me that she was falling apart too.
That both of us were melting for the same man.
And somehow… it didn’t feel wrong.
It felt right.
Aligned.
Balanced.
He was big enough.
Strong enough.
Dark enough.
Soft enough.
Wild enough.
For us.
His hand slid lower, brushing the curve of my ass, then lower still, finding the slick, humiliating proof of how wrecked I already was. The moment his fingers skimmed ov
