Stormbound Craving: She Claims Our Best Friend in the Beach House

The rain hammered the beach house like a living thing, wind shrieking through the shutters and rattling the floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the black, thrashing ocean. Lightning tore the sky open every few seconds, painting the open-plan living room in stark white before plunging it back into the warm glow of the fireplace. Carmen stood barefoot by the glass in nothing but one of Warrick’s old button-down shirts, the hem skimming the tops of her thighs. At twenty-eight she still had the kind of body that made men forget how to speak—full, heavy breasts straining the thin cotton, hips that flared wide, and a round ass that shifted when she walked like it knew it was being watched. Tonight the air itself seemed to cling to her skin.

Theo lounged on the big leather couch like he owned it, six-foot-three of solid muscle and quiet dominance, dark hair damp from an earlier dash to close the storm shutters. At thirty he carried himself with the easy arrogance of a man who knew exactly what his cock did to women. Warrick sat in the armchair opposite, nursing a whiskey, already hard in his jeans just from the way his wife kept glancing over her shoulder at their best friend.

“We’re stuck till morning at least,” Theo said, voice low and rough. “Power’s gonna go any minute.”

Carmen turned, rain-streaked glass at her back, and smiled that slow, dangerous smile Warrick had seen only in their filthiest private moments. “Good. I like being trapped with the two of you.” She padded across the room, bare legs gleaming, and dropped onto the couch between them—closer to Theo than to her husband. Her knee brushed Theo’s thigh. She didn’t pull away.

Warrick’s throat went dry. He watched his wife’s fingers toy with the hem of the shirt, watched Theo’s gaze drop openly to the shadow between her thighs. The banter had started hours ago over dinner, light at first, then sharper. Now it crackled like the lightning outside.

“You’ve been staring at my ass all night, Theo,” Carmen said, casual as commenting on the weather. She leaned back, shirt riding higher. “Don’t bother denying it. I’ve caught you. More than once.”