The twins want me to stay the night, but I know I should get home before Lila wakes up for work. I also need to properly bathe myself and clean off any remnants of Halloween before going to class—which starts in four hours.

I don't remember the last time I stayed up all night, much less for the surreal experience I just endured.

Arlo and I get dressed in the bedroom while Ollie finishes up in the bathroom, and it's not until I pull my sweater over my head do I remember the collar still around my neck.

"Arlo, can you help me with this thing?" I ask him, pulling my hair back so he can get to the catch.

"That's yours, Wren," he says, running a hand through his damp hair.

"What? No—"

"Oh, yes," Ollie says from the doorway to the closet. He's only got a black towel tied around his waist.

My fingers fumble as I try to get it off; the little bell tinks. "It's just part of the costume..."

Arlo comes up behind me and brushes my hands away from my neck. He gives the collar a little tug and I let out a noise.

"Don't do that," he mumbles in my ear. "You'll make me hard."

I bite my tongue as he undoes the buckle.

"It is pretty cheap," he says over my shoulder to Ollie.

The twin pushes off the doorframe to take the collar from his brother. "It's the only one I could get last minute."

"The quality doesn't matter," I say, aware of both their body heats pushing against me. "It was part of the costume."

Ollie clicks his tongue and tosses the collar on the bed, while Arlo squeezes my shoulders. "We'll get you a better one," he whispers.

"What?" I repeat. "Why? I don't need—"

"Saturday," Ollie says, scooping up Arlo's shoes and tossing them in our direction. "I'm taking you two out on one of my dates. And we're not seeing some lame-ass movie, either."

I'm afraid to ask him to elaborate, so I just nod. "As long as there's food and you're paying."

He shrugs, feigning ignorance, and disappears out of the room, down the hallway. I turn to Arlo, who avoids my gaze.

"What are we doing Saturday?" I ask, slightly alarmed. I can only imagine what one of Ollie's "dates" consists of.

He hesitates. "Could be anything."

"But you have an idea?"

He gives me a smile. "Big brother is a creature of habit, so don't worry too much. You'll have a good time."

I eye the collar, glinting on the bed. The sun is beginning to peak over the horizon, brightening the room by the minute. Creature of habit. "So you give a collar to all of your girls?"

He furrows his eyebrows. "No. To play with, sure, but I wanted you to keep it. Ollie said he took care of it, to go with your costume, but I didn't realize it was so...cute."

"But aren't collars supposed to be, like... a sexual thing?" My heart flickers. I can't say I didn't enjoy it when Ollie pulled me by the ring into a kiss, but the only time I've seen collars in real use is when I've grown curious enough in BDSM to look up porn involving bondage. People in collars get led around by leashes on their hands and knees.

Arlo is watching me closely. He rises from the bed, shoes on and tied, and closes the space between us. He gently takes my cheek in his hand, and I burn under his intense gaze.

"He likes to play sometimes. With bondage and toys. Our freshman year he went a little unhinged and dragged me into that scene. He liked the feeling of taking control, you know?"

I guess I could understand that—it's not like they had a secure and safe childhood. "What about you?" I ask, almost afraid of the answer.

A soft smile spreads across his lips and he runs his fingers through my hair. "I didn't find the same satisfaction in it as he did. But it seemed to calm something in him, an angry little monster that had been building. And a happy Ollie is a happy everyone."

My eyes flick over to the collar again.

"Don't worry, little Wren," he says, laughing. "You're the one in control here."

I nod, but he must sense my hesitation.

He pulls me into a hug, hands rubbing my back. "You're okay with this, though, right? At least for now?"

I melt into him, embracing him back. "Yes. Doesn't mean I'd rather this than just have you. It's not a normal relationship, is it?"

"No. It's new territory for all three of us. Before you, I never thought I could have the whole package with someone. And I don't think Ollie realized that, either. He's relinquishing some power to me. I think it's doing him good."

I squeeze him. "It's doing you good, too."

I manage to sneak in the apartment before Lila has to get up for work. The living room's a mess; liquor bottles, take-out containers and pillows and blankets everywhere.

And, to my horror, several people passed out.

What the fuck did she get into last night?

As I try to pick my way through the chaos, I spot Nate from the tattoo parlor on the sofa, arm crossed over who could only be his wife, Ainslee. I wonder vaguely about their newborn daughter, and the moment I break my concentration I stumble over someone's shoe.

Luckily, there's a body on the floor to break my fall.

I land overtop a man, who jolts awake when I knock the air out of him.

"Oh, god," I cry, struggling to roll off him. My foot is tangled in the shoe and I bang my elbow against the coffee table.

In his haze at the rude awakening, the man coughs and tries to get his bearings, but in an attempt he ends up grabbing onto my ass.

I yelp—he's strong.

"What the fuck?" He says, blinking his eyes open and looking around blindly. "What's going on?"

I'm vaguely aware of the button-down shirt he's wearing, but he's still got a tight hold on my butt and I'm trapped. From beneath me I can feel his morning wood jab into my stomach.

Oh, boy.

In seconds he's realized where he is, and then his eyes meet mine. They're a deep blue. I'm close enough to see his long, blonde eyelashes and light stubble across chiseled cheeks. Though he must be around Lila's age there's a boyish look to his face.

"Hello?" he asks.

We stare at each other—I must have a deer-in-the-headlights look on my face because he looks very confused.

There's a groan from the couch and a disheveled Lila emerges from the hallway, a shirtless man in tow. "What's with all the scream—"

She stops short as her eyes trail down to us on the floor. "Roark?" She questions. "What the fuck are you doing to my sister?"

His gaze shoots up to her, then back to me, then to his hand on my ass. "Fuck!" He cries, releasing me. "I'm so sorry. What's going on?"

"I'm still drunk," a woman's voice says from the couch.

"Me, too," Lila says, grabbing into my arm and hoisting me up. "But I'm lucid enough to know you're just getting in."

I blink at her as the man named Roark sits up slowly.

From the couch, another groan. It's from Nate. "Too early, guys, come on."

"I need coffee," the shirtless man from Lila's bedroom says, brushing past us and avoiding eye contact.

"Who's that?" I snap, trying to divert attention away from myself.

"You're not asking questions here, Wren, I am," she retorts. "Where have you been? It's a fucking school day."

The truth gets caught in my throat as if it was a lie. "I was out with friends. Doing Halloween stuff. Isn't it a workday?"

"Fuck," the man Roark says again, clutching his head. He runs his fingers through his blonde hair. "Lila, we need to get to work."

"Work can wait. My sister was out all night."

"I texted you," I say, trying to cover my tracks.

"Not to tell me you weren't coming home."

I look around the apartment. "Would you even have responded if I did?"

She points at me. "That's not the point."

"We could call out," Roark says.

"Not all three of us," the shirtless man hollers from the kitchen. "Stephen would wring our necks."

I nod in agreement. "Yeah, Lila, you should be getting ready for work."

She cocks an eyebrow at me before pulling me into a tight hug. "I'm glad you're safe. But we need to lay out some ground rules tonight when I get home, understand?"

Great, more rules.

I nod, and she releases me. "Coffees to go, Brian," she yells at the shirtless man. "Nate, didn't you say you two were having brunch with your parents today?"

"Fuck!" Nate curses, and Ainslee lets out another groan.

Lila disappears down the hallway and the sound of the Keurig being powered on comes from the kitchen. The two lovebirds on the couch start rising themselves, and I stare down at Roark.

He looks up at me, having discovered his morning wood, too. "Sorry," he says sincerely.

I rub my elbow, which is throbbing. "Sorry I fell on you."