Lottie nods and then glances down at me. “Trying not to get hard?”

“You’re full of yourself,” I whisper.

“After last night, I’d have a hard time believing this right here isn’t getting you hard.” She continues her pace.

“I’m not a teenager. I know how to control myself.”

“Okay,” she says, then takes her hand that was in her hair and places it on my lower stomach. The shift in position angles her just enough to allow for better friction. She picks up the pace and grinds down on me after lifting, hitting my cock in just the right spot. A wave of heat spikes through me as my cock starts to stir.

My jaw clenches down, I try to attempt to blur her out, to not make eye contact, but every time she angles up, I catch a glimpse of the lacy, dark green bralette she’s wearing, and that’s not helping the cause.

“I don’t remember our conception,” Lottie says and makes eye contact with me. “But I sure as hell remember last night and how hard you made me come.”

Fuck.

I’m gone and she knows it, because she grins as she drives against me.

“Mmm, having your fingers deep inside me like that.” She wets her lips. “I wanted more.” She leans forward and, looking me dead in the eyes, she says, “I got off again with my vibrator, because that’s how much you turned me on.”

Fucking hell. My cock swells beneath her, and a satisfied smile crosses her face.

“There you are. Payback is a bitch, Hanley.”

I grind my teeth together, my cock begging for more from her.

“Remember that, because this isn’t over,” I say while she continues to pulse over me, making me harder and harder until . . .

“Okay, let’s get into another position.” Heaven claps her hands.

The tension in the room is palpable, and as everyone disengages from their partners, I realize very quickly from the shift in the room, I’m not the only one turned on.

But it’s the sight to my left that really has me rethinking all of my decisions. Standing tall and proud, hands on his hips, is Dave, with a massive erection poking against his pants.

Jesus. Christ.

An image I know I’ll never get out of my head.

Nope, Dave is apparently claiming his territory, letting everyone in the room know . . . he’s the boner champ.

I don’t know if I should clap, act horrified, or go wash my eyes out with bleach when I get home.

Most likely . . . the latter.

Huxley: I saw Dave’s boner.

Breaker: Uhh . . . what?

JP: Please tell me you aren’t the one who gave him a boner. I’m all about doing whatever it takes, but, man . . . come on.

Huxley: All I have to say is pregnancy class gone wrong. We had to simulate procreating. There was pulsing.

Breaker: You and Dave had to pretend to procreate? Dear fuck, who was pulsing?

JP: My guess is Dave was pulsing into Hux.

Huxley: No, JESUS. We were practicing with our respective pregnant women.

Breaker: Ohhh . . . does that mean you pulsed into Lottie?

JP: Things just got interesting.

Breaker: Uh, Dave having a boner is what made things interesting.

JP: Wait . . . did you have a boner, Hux?

Breaker: ^^^ This. Please answer this.

Huxley: I was fine until she climbed on top of me, gripped her tits, and dry-humped me.

Breaker: Holy fuck.

JP: This was a class? Sounds more like a good time. Where can I sign up?

Huxley: You have serious issues.

JP: Says the guy who was boning out during a pregnancy class next to a colleague.

Huxley: You weren’t there. You don’t know.

Breaker: Did you at least congratulate Dave on his boner?

Huxley: When does a guy ever congratulate another guy on his boner?

Breaker: Might be something nice to do. A solid pat on the back and then a compliment. “Nice bone, man.”

Huxley: Fuck knows why I talk to you two.

“What a wonderful class, don’t you think?” Ellie asks as she licks her mint chocolate chip ice cream in a large waffle cone.

“Oh, quite lovely,” Lottie responds, even though I know her voice is full of sarcasm.

That was not a lovely fucking class. That was a nightmare, for many reasons.

“Isn’t Heaven a wonderful instructor?” Dave asks me. “She really helps me connect on another level. Ellie and I are so much stronger in our relationship because of Heaven.”

“Yeah.” I scoot in closer to Lottie, my hand on the back of her chair as we share an ice cream cone. And when I say share, I mean she’s eating the entire thing by herself. “Heaven was great. She made me think of things I’ve never considered before.” Truth. Heaven definitely brought me to a new level.

“Do you think you’ll continue with the class?” Ellie asks, so hopeful.

“Depends on Lottie’s schedule,” I answer. “She has a start-up business with her sister, so her time is limited.”

“Really?” Dave asks, looking interested. “What’s the—” He looks down at his phone, which buzzes on the table. “Crap.” With a sorrowful look, he says, “That’s Gregory. He’s been wanting to do a walk-through of one of our properties, and I told him to text me when he’s ready. Unfortunately, I have to cut this ice cream date short.”

“Totally understand,” I say, offering him a wave. “We should probably get going soon as well. After we finish this ice cream, of course.”

Dave stands and helps Ellie out of her chair. “Yes, enjoy the sunny day. Hopefully we’ll run into you again soon.”

“I’d love that,” Ellie coos. “Just love you two.”

Together, hand in hand, they say their goodbyes, and then they take off toward their parked car.

Instead of releasing myself from Lottie right away, I keep my arm firmly planted where it is and ask, “Are you going to share that?”

“Nope,” she says before taking a huge lick of the Rocky Road ice cream we decided to get together. “This is all mine. It’s the least you can do.”

“You know, you weren’t the only one who suffered through that black hole back there,” I hiss into her ear while keeping my posture and face neutral. Dave and Ellie could still see us.

“Are you talking about your blue balls?” Lottie asks, a devious smile on her lips.

Yeah, maybe a little.

Blue balls are in full force right now.

Doesn’t help that I keep picturing her above me, grinding down on my cock while she grabs her breast . . .

“Lottie . . . Lottie Bug, is that you?”

Instantly, Lottie goes stiff next to me as a leggy blonde approaches us. Decked out in a bubble-gum pink skirt and white top, the woman looks as if she was plucked from Legally Blonde.

Lottie sits up and casually places her hand on my thigh. That move right there, her hand claiming me, tells me one important thing: whoever this person is, she needs me to be in character.

“Angela,” Lottie says after swallowing her ice cream. “What, uh, what are you doing here?”

Angela? As in . . . the ex-friend who fired Lottie?

Angela glances my way and I know the minute she recognizes me, because she tilts her sunglasses down on the edge of her nose and her mouth falls open.

Ignoring Lottie entirely, she asks, “Huxley Cane, is that you?”

Am I supposed to know her? Because she’s making it seem as if we know each other.

I shift in my seat, moving closer to Lottie as my arm slips up to her shoulder rather than resting on her chair. “I’m sorry, have we met?” I ask.

Lottie leans in toward me. Her body language is screaming for help. I reassure her with a stroke of my hand over her shoulder.