In the Arms of the Elite (Rich Boys of Burberry Prep, #4)

by C.M. Stunich

“What are you two up to in here?” he asks, voice smooth and dark. “Just discussing what a little male-male action might look like on you two.” Tristan pauses for a moment, and then he walks over to the bed, crawls up between Creed’s legs and touches the side of his face. “The fuck are you doing?!” Creed manages to get out before Tristan leans down and captures his lips. It’s a long kiss, too, much longer than you’d expect from two assholes who hate each other. Creed puts his boot between them and pushes Tristan off with a shove. “What the hell …” He slides his arm across his lips as Tristan smirks and stands back up, crossing his arms over his chest. “Does that suffice?” he asks, and Creed flips him the finger. “You only wish it would go further than that,” he snaps, and Tristan shrugs, like he’s not entirely opposed to it. I try not to hold out too much hope. “Did you come over here for a reason?” I ask, and Tristan glances my way with a small tilt of his head, raven-dark hair sliding across his forehead.