“Bedroom,” Jake growled, his voice low and rough, like gravel under tires. He hauled me up by the arms, my legs wobbling as they led me down the hall, their hands never leaving my body—Ryan’s palm flat on my lower back, guiding; Jake’s fingers brushing my ass, promising. 

The door clicked shut behind us, sealing us in the dim space, sheets rumpled from their mornings together. 

I imagined them here before, without me, and a sharp pang hit—envy twisting into thrill. Now I was part of it.

Jake pushed me onto the bed gently, but his eyes said otherwise. “On your back, legs up.” 

I complied, knees to my chest,...