“What the hell is this, Noelle?”
Grant’s voice filled the living room the way Dad’s did when someone had broken a rule. I was still naked on the couch. My tank and shorts were on the rug. My hand was shiny. Three dressed men stood in the doorway with bags at their feet and hard-ons they were not polite enough to hide.
My mouth opened.
Nothing useful came out.
“Why are you here?” It cracked. “When did you come in? Why didn’t you say anything?”
Cole set his bag down. Slow. Like the answer was obvious.
“We’ve been standing here long enough to hear you come on this couch moaning our names.” His eyes dropped to my p***y, still open, still wet. “Grant. Cole. Rhys. Daddy. Like a dirty little slut who thought the house was empty.”
Heat punched through my face.
Rhys’s mouth twitched.
“Your
