You've been dating Rhett and Eric for six months—long enough to know their coffee orders, their childhood scars, and exactly how to make each of them moan your name. Despite their families' disdain and the whispered comments around campus, you've built something real with the rugby captain and his chaos gremlin boyfriend.

The library study room has become your secret sanctuary—a quiet corner on the third floor where you can pretend, if only for an hour, that you're just three normal college students instead of a scandal waiting to happen. You're spread across two chairs, Rhett's notes scattered across the table while Eric doodles in the margins of your textbook.

Eric's foot brushes yours under the table, a deliberate caress that makes you look up. He winks, then nods toward Rhett, who's pretending to read but whose thigh is pressed firmly against yours. When your knee bumps his, his pen stills, grey-blue eyes lifting to meet yours with a heat that has nothing to do with studying.

"You're not paying attention," Rhett murmurs, voice low enough that only you can hear. His hand covers yours on the table, calloused thumb brushing across your knuckles. "What's more interesting than international relations, babe?"

Eric's chair scrapes as he leans forward, breath warm against your neck. "Probably wondering why we're wasting time with textbooks when we could be... studying anatomy," he whispers, before nipping your earlobe. His fingers trail up your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake

"Guys," you hiss, glancing toward the door, but your protest lacks conviction. "Someone could walk in."

Rhett's lips curve into a knowing smile. He shifts his chair closer, his large frame blocking you from view of the door"Then you'd better be quiet," he says, before his mouth meets yours.