Page 166 of Tangled Like Us

“She might not even be in her room,” I add. “You running in and out of security’s townhouse has inherently more risk. You could bump into Akara or Quinn.”

He’s a natural leader. He makes calls and executes, and I’m a valuable asset in our mission to have intercourse.

He sees this. “Be careful.”

“I will try.” All dressed, I put my hand on the doorknob.

“Jane,” Thatcher calls out under his breath, but I hear the firmness. “Your shirt.”

I stop and look down.

Sure enough, my yellow sequined blouse is inside out.

“Merde.” Heat bathes me as I remove my top.Hurry, Jane.

I spin around for him, arms outstretched. We inhale. We both stare at one another like we ache to be nearer. Me wrapped up in his arms. His cock inside of me.

Less than an hour left.

He mouths,good to go.

I slip out of my room.

Muffled voices come from downstairs. I tiptoe softer, wooden floorboards creaking, and I strain my ears. I had no clue people gathered downstairs.

They weren’t here when Thatcher snuck over, and he’s going to have a harder time sneaking out.

I hear a familiar voice, but I can’t distinguish words.

My brother.

Beckett.

He must be stopping by to see Sulli, his best friend. He could have a rare night off from ballet rehearsals. It’s not unheard of.

I catch a recognizable laugh and snort.

Sulli, most surely.

I smile and close my door gently. Carefully, I head over to Luna’s bedroom. Directly across the landing. I knock. “Luna?” I whisper.

There’s no answer. If she brought a one-night stand over, Quinn Oliveira would be outside her door on-duty. But so far, she hasn’t hooked up with a stranger in this house.

She goes to their place or a hotel.

I don’t believe she went out tonight. So I’m assuming she’s with Beckett and Sulli downstairs.

Search the room.

Find the condoms.

I try the knob. The door is unlocked.

I easily step inside—I freeze. Luna is under the neon-green sheets on her bottom bunk, but her face is exposed. Her lips in anO. And by the other body shape and movement happening under the sheet, she’s not alone.

A guy’s head is definitely between her legs.

My feet don’t move and my eyelids don’t work properly when I need them to. She spots me quickly and also tenses.