Eli scoffs. “If you think that I’m sharing my extra-tingly, heating, cherry-flavoured super-glide female-stimulating lubricant, you have another think coming.” “You’re willing to share a woman, but not your lube?” Riven says drily. Eli just shrugs. “I own the lube. I don’t own the woman.” Riven stands. “I have plenty of medical-grade lubricant in my kits.” “As unbelievably hot as that sounds,” I interrupt, pulling off Eli’s hoodie, “I have some. Can you get it? It’s in my washbag.” All three men turn and stare at me.
