Who Falls Hardest (Clearwater University)

I chuckle, although the sound is breathless. “Of course all three of you. I told you I could never choose.”

West’s demanding, possessive hands roam over the curve of my waist. He grips my hip tightly as he presses closer to me, nuzzling his face into my hair as he murmurs, “We love you too.”

My knees go soft as noodles, and I grab on to Reese tightly to stay upright as Trent’s hand comes around my neck—not squeezing, but just tight enough to make every cell in my body aware of his touch.

“We love you so fucking much that we won’t stand for you putting yourself in harm’s way ever again. Not for us, not for anything. We take care of you, got it?”

“A-fucking-men,” West adds. He’s still got his face buried in my hair, and his warm breath sends tingles down my spine.

“Yeah. And I hate to break it to you, Ems, but we outvote you on this one. It’s three to one.” Reese’s voice is playful, but his grip on me tightens, the same warning in it that I feel in Trent’s touch.

My heart is hammering against my ribs, and heat is gathering in my belly like lava. My pussy clenches around nothing, the slight ache in my ass only making arousal spike higher.

“You know,” I joke breathlessly. “I’m not sure I like you all ganging up on me like this. I think I should get three votes to make things even.”

Trent chuckles. His grip on my neck loosens as his lips find the skin of my shoulder.

“Not gonna happen, Ems.”

“And besides, you like it when we gang up on you.” Reese rolls his hips against me as he speaks, letting me feel how hard he is and sending a cascade of butterflies flapping through my belly.

My laugh turns into a groan as West’s hand slides up my shirt, his fingers finding my nipple and sending little jolts of sensation through me.

Fuck. They’re right.

I do like this.

I really, really do.

20

West

Steam from the shower fills the small space as hot water pours over me. I dip my face beneath the spray and scrub a hand down my face as I shake droplets of water from my hair.

It’s almost over.

It’s almost fucking over.

This thing with Leslie was more of a nightmare than any of us bargained for, and I can’t wait until that crazy bitch is behind bars. Not that I still won’t sleep with one eye open or get touchy anytime someone even looks at Emma funny. But it’ll be one less thing to worry about, and that’s good.

Emma’s face floats through my mind. Her soft, bow-shaped lips that smile so easily. Her big brown eyes, the soft waves of her hair.

When she first showed up on campus, I fucked my fist till my dick was raw trying to get her out of my mind. I wanted her gone. I wanted the things she made me feel to stop. It was too much for me to handle—or at least I thought it was.

But now I realize it was just because even then, I was grappling with my feelings for her. Refusing to see them for what they were.

Love.

Possessiveness.

A need to make her mine.

Now that I have her, now that all of us have her, those feelings that used to make me think my chest might explode fill me up like air—like the very thing I need to survive.

Emma is my lifeline. My savior.

Fucking hell, I guess falling in love turned me to a damn poet.