Cameron’s fingers stayed in the waistband long enough for me to feel my own pulse there. Then he pulled.
The sleep shorts came down slow. I let my hips stay heavy, the way a sleeping girl would, even though every nerve in me was awake. Cool air hit my panties. I heard Seth swear under his breath.
“She’s wet,” he said. “Through the cotton. That’s not nothing.”
Marcus touched me to check, two fingers pressed over the damp patch, and I had to lock my thighs so I wouldn’t roll into his hand. “Jesus. She’s soaked. That’s a dream. Has to be a dream.”
“Or she heard us,” Derek said.
“She didn’t hear us,” Cameron said. His voice was tight. “She sleeps through thunderstorms. Pull them off.”
They pulled the panties down. I felt the drag, the string of slick that followed, the way the air kissed
