Wagering On Wendy (A MFM Ménage Romance) (Playing For Love Book 4)

by Tara Crescent

Have I misread the signals? “Do you want me in the guest room?”

  Asher rolls his eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he growls. “Wendy, I want to sleep with you. I’m pretty sure Hudson wants to sleep with you. In or out?”

  Joy spreads through me. They want me. I stifle a laugh at Asher’s disgruntled look. “In.”

  “Excellent.” Asher and Hudson sink on the couch, on either side of me. Their hands move to my shoulders and they tip me back. Hudson’s fingers make quick work of my shirt, while Asher tugs my pants down my hips.

  “God, you’re beautiful.” Hudson’s voice is reverent. “I thought I remembered how gorgeous you were, but the memories do not do you justice.”

  My cheeks heat under their scrutiny. I’d tried to forget them. I’d tried to use my anger as a shield, but it didn’t work. I’ve been dreaming about them, waking up with my body aching in desire. Now they’re actually here, looking at me with need in their eyes, and I don’t want this moment to end.

  Asher trails his finger over my shoulder. He slides my bra strap aside, and his lips kiss my skin, warm and soft. My body tingles where he touches me, and my breath hitches.

  “I can’t stop thinking of you,” he says into my ear. “About how it feels when I slide into your tight pussy. The soft sighs you make when I touch you.” His hands caress my midriff and brush over my stomach. I freeze for a second, before forcing myself to relax. I’m not showing yet. They won’t be able to tell.

  Hudson’s hands cup my breasts, then he unclasps my bra and lowers his mouth over my nipple. I bite my lip in pleasure, leaning back against the couch. My brain is starting to short-circuit. I run my hands over their broad chests, savoring the feeling of them, the taut firmness of each tight muscle, the warmth of their skin.

  I’ve missed this. I’ve missed them.

  In normal circumstances, they would delight in tormenting me until I’m whimpering with need, alight with desire. These aren’t normal circumstances. It’s been months since I’ve felt them against me. All I want to do right now is rip their clothes off, and thankfully, from the predatory gleam in Hudson’s and Asher’s eyes, they’re just as impatient as I am.

  We get naked. Asher pushes me back so I’m lying on the couch, my head near Hudson’s thick hard cock. His head lowers between my legs and his mouth descends on my pussy. He licks my slit, and his tongue flicks over my nub.

  Groaning, I arch my hips into Asher’s face. I grope around for Hudson’s cock, and sigh with satisfaction when my fist closes around his steel shaft.

  Hudson loosens my fingers and gets on his knees. His strong thighs straddle my face, and his cock rests against my lips. Yum. I reach out and swirl my tongue around his head, rewarded when he groans in abandon.

  “God, I love the way you taste,” Asher says, spreading my legs wider and intensifying his attack on my pussy. He plunges his middle finger into me, twisting and pressing down on my g-spot. Whimpering with need, I take Hudson’s cock all the way into my mouth.

  It’s in the middle of the night. The air is quiet, punctured only by the sounds of our harsh breathing, my breathy moans and Hudson’s gasps of pleasure. While Manhattan sleeps, my body is brought to orgasm, again and again.

  Afterward, for the first time, I let myself sleep between their bodies, burying my face in Hudson’s shoulder, while Asher presses against my back.

  There’s part of me that feels like I’m jumping off a high bridge without a safety net. I never stay the night. I always take cabs back home and sleep in the safety of my own bed, because unlike sex, cuddling is intimacy.

  I’ve feared intimacy all my life.

  But this time, I stay, sandwiched between them. And for the first time, I let myself hope that the three of us can make our relationship work.

  As promised, Hudson and Asher make me breakfast the next day. Thankfully, my morning sickness has abated somewhat, so I can eat the eggs and bacon without heaving. “What do you have planned for the day?” Hudson asks me once we’re done eating. “It’s Black Friday. Are you going shopping?”

  I give him a quizzical look. “I didn’t think billionaires bothered with Black Friday.”

  He snorts. “Megan shopped all the time,” he says, referring to his ex-wife. “She used Black Friday as an excuse to spend the entire day in the stores.”

  “Can I ask a personal question?” I’m a little hesitant to broach the subject, but especially now that I’m pregnant, it’s important for me to know why Hudson divorced his wife. “Why did you and Megan break up?”

  “She was only with me for my money,” he says dismissively.

  His tone warns me that I should change the topic, but I persist. “You married her, right?” I ask him. “You must have been in love with her at some point. What changed?”

  Asher watches us from the top of his newspaper. Hudson shakes his head. “The only reason we got married,” he says quietly, “was because Megan told me she was going to have our baby. Of course,” he adds bitterly, “like everything else she said, it was a lie.”

  Oh dear. I know I have to tell them I’m pregnant, but given Hudson’s revelation, I’m fairly sure that his reaction isn’t going to be good.

  Everything is going to change when they find out.

  25

  Friends show their love in times of trouble, not in happiness.

  Euripides

  Asher:

  Friday morning, I level with Wendy about Stone Bradley’s bodyguards. She takes the news better than I expect. “I’m not stupid, Asher,” she says with a roll of her eyes when I tell her I’m surprised that she’s not mad at me. “I’m a fan of safety too. I just don’t think it should limit what I do.”

  I don’t argue. I’m too busy enjoying my time with her.

  The three of us spend all weekend together. After Wendy confesses that she hasn’t had time to visit the Statue of Liberty, we take a ferry to Ellis Island and see the iconic monument. We take in a Broadway show and spend a lazy afternoon at the Met. And we have sex. A lot of it.

  I don’t get back to my place until late evening on Sunday. It’s after nine when I push open the door of my apartment, but when I get in, Levi’s not around. The door to his bedroom is wide open, and there’s no one inside.

  I grab a bottle of water from my refrigerator and collapse on the couch. The coffee table is strewn with papers, and I start to move them aside so I can prop my feet up. Then I catch sight of their contents, and all the euphoria I’m feeling from my weekend with Wendy drains away.

  They are surveillance photos of a warehouse by the docks. Mikhail Vasiliev’s warehouse, if I’m to believe Levi’s parole officer. Notes are scribbled next to them, but I don’t register what’s written because I’m in shock. How could Levi be so stupid? How could he let Beecham drag him into trouble once again?

  The door swings open, and Levi lurches into the room, swaying on his feet. Even from my spot on the couch, I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He steps closer, and then he sees the papers on the coffee table and freezes.

  “Did you read any of it?” His voice is uncharacteristically nervous.

  Fuck. If the Bar Association finds out I know what Levi’s planning, they will not hesitate to strip me of my license to practice law. I should call Levi’s parole officer.

  But if I do, there’s enough evidence here for the DA to press charges. I don’t think I have it in me to send my friend to jail again.

  “Asher?” Levi prompts. “Did you see anything?”

  Loyalty wins out. “Did I see what?” I ask blandly.

  He exhales in a loud sigh of relief. “Thanks, buddy,” he replies. “I knew I could count on you.”

  I shouldn’t say anything, but I can’t resist trying to dissuade him. “Who are you working with?” I ask. “Is it Beecham’s crowd? The cops are onto his crew, Levi. For fuck’s sake, don’t be a fool. Walk away from this job.”

  “Listen to you,” he sneers. “It’s so easy for you. Do you know how hard it is for an ex-con to

make an honest living? I don’t have any other choice.”

  “I will loan you money,” I reply, desperate to change his mind. “I will give you money. Whatever you need. Don’t get sucked back in, Levi.”

  He walks past me to the bedroom. “I don’t need your money or your pity, Ash,” he says. “I can take care of myself.”

  I wish I could believe him.

  26

  If ignorant both of your enemy and yourself, you are certain to be in peril.

  Sun Tzu

  Hudson:

  When we get to work Monday morning, the first thing we do is make our way to Thorne’s office. We’ve planned this over the weekend. Thorne was furious when Asher and I showed up to the board meeting on Wednesday, and Wendy insists we tell him we’re not going to back down.

  He’s sitting behind his desk, reading something on his computer. He looks up in outrage as we march in. “What do you want?” he spits at Wendy.

  She’s not cowed. “To tell you this,” she replies coolly. She tosses the photos of the three us on the table. “I don’t care what other people think about me.” Her eyes glint with anger. “I grew up in a small town. For eighteen years, everyone in Fredonia gossiped about who my father was. Kids would mock me. Adults would look at my mother and me with pity, and guess what, Thorne?” She gives him a steely look. “I have really thick skin. I don’t care if these pictures get leaked to the tabloids. I don’t care if everyone in the company knows that Hudson, Asher, and I are sleeping together.”

  Thorne’s only reaction is a clenched jaw. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he says.

  Wendy rolls her eyes. “We aren’t going to back down,” she warns him. “So if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of our way. Unless you want me to talk to Bill Anderson?”

  Asher shakes his head on the way out. “Anderson will want proof and we have none,” he says, stating the obvious. “I better call Stone Bradley and have him double his guards on you. Again.” He gives Wendy a fondly exasperated look. “Did you have to threaten him?”

  “You have to stand up to bullies, Asher,” Wendy replies. We get into the elevator and the doors close.

  “I agree,” he says quietly. “Unless you are protecting someone very precious.” His thumb brushes over Wendy’s lower lip. “When you are responsible for someone you cherish, some battles aren’t worth fighting.”

  Her breath catches. “I can take care of myself.”

  The next big milestone on the Staten Island project is a presentation to the retailers that we’re hoping will lease space from us. Jeff Choi has set up a meeting on the fifteenth of December with eight key players in the industry. “You know what would wow them, Hudson?” he says to me when we meet on Monday afternoon. “A model of the whole complex. Is there any way you can pull that together?”

  “I’ll give it a shot.”

  Jeff frowns. “This meeting is critical,” he insists. “Thorne’s team has, against all odds, started construction on their South Carolina highway. If we don’t keep up, Thorne’s going to win this contest.”

  Wendy jumps to my defense. “I’m sure Hudson’s doing everything he can, Jeff,” she says quietly. “We all are. We’ll get this done.”

  My heart warms at her support, but I don’t deserve it. Thorne’s blackmail attempt caused Asher and I to pull away from her project. It won’t happen again, I vow silently. Whatever happens this time, we’re in it together.

  Not just on the Staten Island project. I was foolish enough to let Wendy go once, but after the four days we’ve spent together, I realize what a mistake that was. I really like Wendy. I don’t want to lose her again.

  “I think we’ve got it.” Wendy shuts her laptop, looking tired.

  Two weeks have passed. In that time, Thorne, mindful of our warning, doesn’t move openly against us, but he orchestrates a thousand petty irritants. Our computers are mysteriously infected by viruses that the IT guys can’t remove. Wendy’s office is scheduled to be renovated, so we’re moved to a cube just outside a busy conference room. It’s impossible to work when we are constantly distracted by the conversations happening around us, but we persist. We’re determined to beat Thorne.

  It’s six in the evening, and the big presentation is tomorrow. We’ve just finished rehearsing our pitch. Wendy will lead the discussion, but as the architect on the project, I will introduce the design of the space, and Asher will cover the highlights of the legal agreements.

  I get to my feet and stretch, feeling the muscles in my neck burn from the hours I’ve spent hunched over a keyboard. For the last two weeks, I’ve been working fifteen hour days. It’s been exhausting juggling everything on my plate—keeping on top of the projects I’m responsible for, trying to hire new architects as well as complete the Staten Island design. But it’s worth it. I feel really good about what we’ve achieved. Any moment now, Raul and Alyssa should show up with the model of the complex, and when the retailers see it, I’m convinced they’ll be lining up to sign on the dotted line.

  There’s a knock on the conference room door. Asher opens it, and Raul and Alyssa enter with the building model. “God, this thing is heavy,” Alyssa huffs.

  I grab her end and Raul and I set it down on the table in the middle of the room. “Is this where it’s going to go?” Raul asks me. “We promised Nadja we’d deliver it safe and sound.”

  Alyssa sinks down on a chair. “We were terrified every time the van went over a bump,” she agrees. “Nadja will kill us if something happens to it.”

  I laugh. “You guys did great.” The model is unharmed, and it looks amazing. Built the old-fashioned way by a team of model-makers in a workshop, constructed with wood and cardboard and glue, it’s the kind of painstaking work that takes days to do. This one took ten days, and Dave’s team worked around the clock on it.

  “This isn’t where you’re doing your presentation, are you?” Alyssa looks around the small, shabby conference room that we’re using as an office.

  “No,” I reply. “We’ll be presenting in the main boardroom on the eighteenth floor. Asher and I can set it up tomorrow morning.”

  Raul and Alyssa leave, and Wendy looks at me with shining eyes. “This is beautiful, Hudson,” she says, throwing her arms around me and hugging me tight. “Thank you.”

  I kiss her forehead. “Anything for you, baby.” With a start, I realize I mean it. When my marriage with Megan ended, I thought I’d never allow myself to be vulnerable again. I thought I’d never allow myself to trust a woman. But Wendy’s shattered my defenses. I’d do anything for her.

  Asher’s phone beeps. He glances at the display and his expression tightens. “I need to head to my office,” he says. He gives Wendy a stern look. “Don’t wait for me to eat dinner.”

  Something in his face causes me to pause. “Is everything okay?” I ask my friend.

  He nods tightly. “I’ll meet up with you two later. Save me a slice of pizza.”

  Once he leaves, I turn to Wendy. We’ve been eating junk food too many nights in a row, and I’m sick of it. “We’re in good shape here. Want to go eat a real meal at an actual restaurant?”

  “Yes please,” she replies at once with a grin. “I’m ready to take a break from this room.”

  I help her with her coat, and we head downstairs. “Where do you want to go?”

  “Piper’s.” She gives me an amused look. “My friends are dying to meet Asher and you. Piper threatened to drop by at work if I didn’t show up at her restaurant this week.”

  I laugh. “We’ve met Miki,” I point out. Wendy’s hacker friend has given us a couple of updates on her progress, but unfortunately, she isn’t making much headway. I don’t blame her. She’s got a lot on her mind at the moment as she navigates the end of her marriage.

  “True,” she agrees. “And now you’re going to meet Piper. Gabby’s going to visit New York for Christmas, and Bailey’s done in Argentina at the end of the year, so you’ll get to meet them on New Year's Eve.” She hesitates. “Assuming we’ll be together then.”

  New Year's Eve is two weeks away. “Count on it,” I assure her, looking into her light blue eyes. I want to say more, to tell her that I want to be in a real relationship with her, to tell her I can’t see a future without her in it, but now’s not the right time. At Christmas, I promise myself. When we have a moment to think about something that isn’t work.

  Wendy’s obviously a regular at Piper’s. The hostess seats us quickly, and the waiter arrives in a minute to take our drink order. I survey the small but thoughtfully chosen wine list. “Should we get a bottle?” I ask Wendy. “I’m ready to unwind, and I’m assuming that Asher will join us at some point.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t want to drink tonight,” she says, her head bent, and her attention focused on her menu. “I want to keep a clear head for tomorrow’s meeting.”

  After the first night, when the three of us polished off four bottles of champagne between us, I’ve rarely seen Wendy drink. Come to think of it, she hasn’t touched a glass of wine in weeks. “Fair enough.” I lower my voice. “If you don’t want wine to help you relax, I’m happy to think of other ways.”

  Blushing, she orders a sparkling water. I ask for a glass of the house red. The waiter leaves to fill our order, and Wendy clears her throat. “Hudson,” she says, her fingers playing with the edges of her napkin, creasing and uncreasing the linen, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  Her tone places me on alert. “Of course,” I reply.

  Before she can continue, a blonde woman in a white apron winds her way through the tables, a big smile on her face. “Wendy,” she exclaims, giving her friend a hug. “You made it. I haven’t seen you in weeks.” She turns to me, holding out her hand. “You must be Hudson,” she says. “It’s good to meet you at last.”

  I get to my feet. “Likewise,” I reply. “Thank you for the feast on Thanksgiving.”

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