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Things got complicated when Lia started dating Noah last summer. Lia's relationships usually burned out faster than a cheap candle, but Noah was different. He was the longest she'd kept anyone around, a record-breaking milestone for her. And f*ck, was he hot. Like, really f*cking hot. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a jawline that could cut glass and eyes that made you forget your own name. The first time I saw him, at a rooftop bar with Lia hanging off his arm, I felt my thighs clench involuntarily. He had this quiet confidence, like he knew exactly what he was working with but didn't need to flaunt it. I played it cool, of course, but my mind was already racing, picturing him pinning me against a wall, his hands everywhere, his c**k—
I snapped out of it when Lia introduced us. "Ava, this is Noah," she said, her voice dripping with pride, like she'd bagged a trophy. I shook his hand, my smile a little too tight, and said something generic like, "Nice to meet you." But inside, I was a mess. I wanted him, bad, and the guilt hit me like a freight train. Ethan and I had been open, sure, but since we got married a year ago, I'd slowed down on the extracurriculars. We hadn't officially closed the relationship, but it had become this unspoken thing—less f*cking around, more routine. Noah was the first guy in a while who made me question that shift.
