She rose up on her toes, stretching that pale, tattooed neck to kiss my cheek. “I hate it when he doesn’t come home, and I miss you when you’re not right there missing him with me, but knowing you’re together makes it easier.” Don’t touch her. My arms had other ideas, circling her waist before I caught myself in the same moment that Nash reached us. His hand grazed my hip, and the heat Orla had brought with her sparked a new flame. For a strangled second, my head spun with images of what I’d do if we were alone. If we were at her place—in her bed. Me and her. Her and him. Him and me. But I
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