Tate’s kiss is teasing, always leaving me feeling frustrated and filled with need. I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer. I get another kiss, then a teasing tug on my lower lips that makes me whimper.
Then I whimper again as Charles pinches my nipple through my dress. His hand is huge, and soaking wet from the soapy, bubbling cauldron of the floor. When he cups my breast, water soaks right through my dress.
Tate swallows my moan before pulling back. Again.
“Don’t stop,” I plead, rocking my hips against Charles and arching into his touch while I try to pull Tate closer.
Prince Charming obliges, and I get another taste of his lips just as I hear a wolf whistle echo across the living room.
My eyes snap to the front door and lock on JJ, who’s standing in the doorway, watching us. Instinctively, I try to scramble off Charles, but the Beast tightens his grip on my thighs and holds me in place. He’s still hard, but instead of heat, I feel heady panic. What must JJ think of me, making out with both his roommates in the middle of the living room floor?
I try to think of something to say, some way to explain, but my mind goes blank. There’s absolutely no way I can make this all right!
What if JJ’s so hurt and upset he never speaks to me again? Or worse, what if he drops out of the competition? What if the guys’ a cappella group falls apart because of me? They’re all going to hate me and—
“Should have skipped class today,” JJ chuckles. He doesn’t sound upset. His eyes are dark and heated as they travel down my body and stop where my nipple is pressing up against my now damp dress. I look down, too, and there is a large, wet palm print the size of Charles’s hand over my right breast.
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I jump to my feet. Except the floor’s still covered with soap and my feet fly out from under me. I let out a panicked cry moments before Charles comes to my rescue. He wraps his arms around my waist, and I crash right back down onto his lap, my pulse thundering in my ears.
“Room for one more?” JJ teases. He glides into the apartment like a professional skater, clearly showing off before he settles on the floor on my other side.
“So this was your idea?” Tate asks him, gesturing at the soapy floor.
“Who, me?” JJ says with fake innocence, his eyes twinkling. “Of course not.”
“Yes, it was,” I protest, though the wet floor is the least of my worries. I glance at my Knight in Shining Armor nervously, but he doesn’t seem to mind that I’m sitting astride Charles, or that he caught me making out with Tate.
“So...” He gives a strand of my hair a teasing tug. “How did the songwriting go?”
“It was amazing,” I cry. “JJ, you’re a genius!”
“You’re the genius.” JJ grins. “And I’d love to hear what you’ve got so far.”
“I have the entire song! It just came to me.” I tell him, and then I can’t help it. I start to sing.
The euphoria from earlier floods my veins. Its current overtakes me and pulls me through the lyrics and melody. I feel the song with every ounce of my being, and pour everything I have into my rendition.
I forget that my voice is whiny. I forget that all three of my princes are watching me. I forget that I’m still straddling Charles and that JJ walked in while I was kissing Tate. All I remember are the words.
And the words sound absolutely perfect.
“That was beautiful,” Tate breathes when I finish the last note.
“Absolutely brilliant,” JJ chimes in. “I knew you could do it.”
I grin and turn to Charles expectantly. For a few seconds, he just stares at me, and then he covers my lips with his.
I gasp and kiss him back. Then I realize that Tate and JJ are both watching and quickly pull away. I struggle to catch my breath when Tate threads his fingers through my hair again and captures my lips with his. My body ignites, but so do my cheeks, and I pull away from him, too.
“JJ,” I cry, turning to look at my Knight in Shining Armor. “I—”
“Yes?” he asks, zeroing in on my lips.
When he leans closer, my heart starts pounding so loudly in my chest that I’m sure all three princes can hear it. Maybe I could write a song about it chiming like a clock, ticking away the seconds until...
“Roonie!” JJ snaps.
“Y-yes?”
“Stop torturing me already and kiss me.”
Chapter 23
When I walk into the kitchen on Saturday morning, Charles pulls me into his arms and kisses me within an inch of my life. He leaves my brain a scrambled mess, which only scrambles further when Tate takes his place.
My Prince Charming sucks on my upper lip, sending desire coursing through me. I try to reciprocate, needing more, but he suddenly pulls back, leaving me breathless.
“Coffee?” he asks, handing me a steaming hot mug.
“Oh, um, thanks,” I mumble, though my mind is miles away.
Why does he keep doing this to me? Why does he keep pulling away and leaving me wanting more?
I barely pay attention to where I’m going until I find myself on the barstool next to JJ. I glance at my Knight in Shining Armor, and my pulse spikes when I find him watching me. He’s never once initiated a kiss before, and it doesn’t look like he plans to do so now.
Not that JJ doesn’t want to kiss me. The desire in his gaze is plain for all to see, and he’s gripping the counter like he’s physically trying to restrain himself. His eyes lock on my lips, his pupils dilate, and my entire body ignites in response.
My pulse accelerates, and I swallow nervously as my gaze drifts to his lips. I want to kiss him—need to kiss him—and I fight back the wave of nerves. It’s gotten easier, more manageable, each time I’ve kissed JJ since that fateful afternoon on the living room floor.
When I finally work up the courage to lean in, JJ groans in approval and kisses me right back. He doesn’t deepen the kiss, waiting for me to be the one to take control, but I know that if I take things further, he’ll be right there with me. He isn’t teasing me the way Tate is. He’s not trying to drive me insane. He’s giving me time and letting me set the pace so I can do this my way.
His lips dance against mine in perfect harmony. Our mouths are singing a song without music and lyrics, melding together and expressing themselves through the soft caress of lips.
When I deepen the kiss, JJ does too. When I slide my tongue out and tentatively lick his lips, he growls and opens for me. I test the waters by touching my tongue against his, and he instantly reciprocates.
A part of me is aware that Charles and Tate are having breakfast or drinking coffee while JJ and I make out. Yet I don’t jump back, or pull away, or flush with embarrassment. I embrace the wave of arousal that courses through me, knowing that they’re also here, watching.
The first time I kissed JJ in front of them—sitting astride Charles on the living room floor—I’d been terrified. Not of any of the guys, but of what would happen if it all blew up in my face. I kept waiting for them to tell me I broke some rule and did something wrong, but they each kissed me in turn, letting me know it was okay.
After that, it’s like some unspoken rule in the apartment had shifted. Suddenly, making out with all three of my roommates became okay. They each kissed me while we watched a musical that night and again all day yesterday on at least a dozen separate occasions.