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My stomach flips, and I can’t take his silence anymore. “Say something.”

Beck’s eyes are glassy when he finally speaks. “I wish she would have told me.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe I wouldn’t have been so angry at you all these years.”

I crack a smile at him. “That’s not true. I still made you feel like shit—made both of us feel like shit.”

“Like you said, we were young,” he admits.

“Yes, but I knew what I said hurt you. I was just—”

“—scared,” he finishes for me.

“Yes.”

“And are you still scared?” Beck asks.

“Did it seem like I was scared last night?”

He exhales, dragging his thumb over my knuckles. “You were perfect.”

“So were you.”

“Quinn.” He looks at my wedding band. “She was perfect, too.”

I smile brightly, thinking about the phenomenal woman sleeping in the bungalow. “She always is.”

“You’re lucky to have found her.”

“I am.” I open my mouth to say I’m lucky to have found them both, but a throat clears. We turn our heads to find a sleepy Quinn sliding open the door to join us outside.

“Am I interrupting something?” she asks. Her voice is raspy, the kind of rasp that makes my cock stand at attention.

“Come here.” Beck’s command doesn’t stop the blood flow moving south nor the images those words bring back to my mind from last night.

Quinn walks over to Beck. It isn’t until she’s in front of us that I realize she’s wearing a silk pajama set that leaves little to the imagination. Her full breasts fill out the spaghetti strap top, and the outline of her hard nipples are visible through the thin fabric.

Beck pats his thigh for her to sit, and she does as requested with ease, like she’s done it a million times before. He wraps his hand around her waist to steady her, my hand still gripped in his other.

“Are you both okay?” she asks after she’s settled.

Beck finds my gaze, an understanding passing between us. There’s more to say, and I’d like to know more about the ten years I’ve missed in his life, but that can wait for another time.

“We’re good,” I reply.

“We are,” Beck agrees.

Quinn smiles. “Good.”

“Are you good?” Beck asks, his hand smoothing up and down her thigh.

“I am. But I would have been better if I didn’t wake up alone.”

There’s not much space left, but I scoot as close to them as possible. The desire building inside me has nothing to do with the rising temperature.

“Do you want us to make it up to you?” I ask slyly, my free hand trailing down her bare calf.