Page 178 of The Next Lie

Shiloh goes still.

So do I.

She looks between us, embarrassment and challenge tangled together on her face. “I brought it up. Everyone got weird. Then everyone pretended not to think about it, loudly.”

Shiloh recovers first. “I didn’t pretend.”

“No. You leered with subtext.”

“I’m an artist.”

I keep my eyes on Reva. “Are you asking?”

Her throat works. She nods once.

“Words.”

Color rises in her face, but she holds my gaze. “I want both of you. Now. Together.”

The training hall goes quiet around us. No fans. No birds outside. No distant house sounds.

Only Reva’s breathing. Only mine turning rough.

Shiloh moves behind her, slow enough that she can step away. She does not. He brushes her hair off one shoulder and looks at me over her head.

“This about distraction?” he asks her.

“Maybe.”

His hand settles at her waist. “That’s not enough.”

She turns her head slightly toward him. “It’s not only distraction.”

“Good.”

I step closer and take her chin, bringing her eyes back to mine. “You say stop, we stop. You say one, only one stays. You want this to end, it ends. No discussion.”

She nods.

“Words,” I say again.

“Yes. I understand.”

Shiloh kisses the side of her neck. Her lashes flutter.

I catch her jaw a little tighter. “You have to stay with us,” I tell her.

Her eyes open.

“I’m here,” she says.

I kiss her.

The first touch is controlled because it has to be. She is already wound tight, and Shiloh’s hand is sliding over her stomach, his mouth moving beneath her ear. Her breath breaks against mine. She reaches for me, fingers curling in my shirt, pulling like she needs me closer before she can decide whether to panic or burn.

I choose to burn for her.

I deepen the kiss and back her toward the bench near the wall. Shiloh moves with us, keeping himself at her back, one hand at her hip, the other crossing her body to cup her breast through the sports bra.