by Taryn Quinn
She shot Matt a hateful glance and said nothing. Tristan’s arms held fast around her, keeping her in place. “Guess you didn’t have a chance to start the coffee,” she said to Tristan.
Tristan shook his head. “Hadn’t gotten that far.”
“Figures.”
He ran a hand down her hair as he spoke to Matt. “Finesse, pal. Learn it.”
Cait stared hard at Matt, mentally willing him to remember what she’d said last night.
Don’t say a word.
Matt shrugged and turned away, reaching into an overhead cabinet for a cup. “Sorry. You want privacy, you know where the bedrooms are.”
That got her moving. “I have work to do,” she said stiffly, pushing at Tristan’s biceps.
“Now that’s what I like to hear. Which one of us should drop his pants first?”
“Jesus, Matt. Shut the hell up.” Tris brushed his fingertip over her swollen lower lip, his gaze searching hers. “You okay?” he asked in an undertone. “I’ll get you another mug.”
In spite of the tears one blink away from filling her eyes, she managed to smile. “Sure. Fine. Can I get up now?”
He released her, and she rose unsteadily. “How’d the mug get broken anyway?” he asked, grabbing the dustpan.
Cait glanced at Matt and caught his smug little smile. “I can’t remember.”
Before Matt could make another smart comment, she headed back to her desk. She dropped into her chair and swiveled to face her computer, then clicked open her latest design project.
One stilted attempt at normalcy coming right up.
Tristan immediately engaged Matt in some inane banter about Abe Donnelly’s latest over-the-top demands. She didn’t listen.
Now that she’d made an impossible situation even worse, she was going back to work.
“She’s a good kisser, huh?”
“What?” His mind on his current crisis—what to order for lunch from the takeout menu in his hand—Tristan almost didn’t hear Matt.
Then his brain clicked into gear, and he turned to glare at his best friend. “What did you just say?”
“Cait. She’s a good kisser. But then we always knew she would be. Don’t think you got past her mouth, but believe you me, the rest of her is just as responsive.”
Before Matt’s words fully pierced the haze in his brain, Tris noted his best friend’s smirk. He’d seen that smirk before. That was the expression Matt wore when he’d set his sights on a new conquest.
Or had already enjoyed one.
In an instant, Tris hurtled out of his chair and pushed Matt against the wall. He lifted his knee, fully intent on shoving it into Matt’s groin. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.
“Not nearly enough. And you might want to mind the knee. You’ll regret it later.”
“I asked you a goddamned question. How do you know what kind of kisser she is?”
“Sit down. You’re hungry and you’re tired, and as usual your testosterone’s doing the talking.” Matt’s jaw popped as he yawned. “We’re both tired. So ease off and I’ll tell you.”
Tris stepped back a fraction. “This is as far as I’m going. Start talking.”
“You’re getting the abridged version. There’s a couple of reasons for that, mainly that she doesn’t want you to know.”
Now he sat. “Why?”
Matt rolled back up to his desk. He resumed whatever he’d been doing, moving his hand in wide swings on the mouse. “You know Cait,” he said dismissively. “Always has her reasons. But in this case, I don’t think she’s altogether wrong. You’re both impossible to deal with. Which is why from here on out, we’re doing this my way.”
Tristan reached for the laminated menu, then let it drop forgotten in his lap. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t concentrate on food at the moment, roaring stomach be damned.
He’d been having enough trouble all morning, between trying to forget the feeling of Caity’s mouth on his and his futile efforts to decipher the thick-as-mud tension between his two partners. Maybe he’d finally figure out just what the hell was going on in his own damn house.
Because something clearly was. Sometime between when Matt had gone downstairs to supposedly call his mother last night and this morning, something had transpired between Caity and Matt.
Whatever it was, that had to be the explanation for Caity kissing him this morning. He’d been turning it over all day, wondering why the hell she’d made a move on him. Why now? He certainly hadn’t minded. In fact, he was already counting the minutes until it happened again.
But still. Something had to have given her a push.
And he had a feeling he was looking at him.
“You kissed her,” Tris stated. “When?”
“Last night.”
“When last night? You were with me last night, if you’ve forgotten.” Even Tristan could hear the undercurrent in his tone. Hell if he could decipher if he was jealous about Matt getting with Cait—or vice versa.
Either way they hadn’t been with him.
“Yeah, I remember.” Matt banged his mouse. “I also remember looking at the doorway while you were cleaning up and realizing we had an observer.”
Tristan fisted his hands on the arms of his chair. “You’re not serious.”
“Deadly.”
“Jesus.” Tris closed his eyes and tried not to imagine what Caity had witnessed. “Did she—is she—”
“She’s all right. Now. She was shocked, but she got over it fast.” Again the smirk, and Tris’s stomach tightened. “I distracted her.”
“How?”
Matt arched a brow and shifted to face him, hands sprawled on his stomach. “Sure you want the gory details?”
“The details of how you clearly left my bed and went to hers? Why not?”
Though he wasn’t altogether sure he did. But he’d be damned if they left him out of the loop any longer.
But instead of Matt spilling, he reached for his soda and tipped it back to his mouth for a long swallow. Then he sighed. “She was pretty pissed and just as much hurt. I came down here to try to explain, but we started baiting each other and things went from there.”
Tris rolled his eyes. As if Matt and Caity sniping at each other was anything new. “Baiting each other about what?”
Matt lifted his head and stared him straight in the eye. “You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah. We made it into a competition about which of us wanted you more. And then we circled around wanting each other. I’m still not really sure where we stand on that score. I mean, I know where I stand, and I know she wants use of my dick, but as for more than that, no clue.”
Tristan shook his head, trying to comprehend what Matt was telling him. “You fought over me. Then you fought over each other. And she wants use of your dick?”
“Yours too.” Matt saluted him with his soda. “Our little Cait has her share of needs, it seems.”
Tris picked up his own bottle of soda and rolled it between his palms. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said softly. “And I’m guessing what you’re leaving out involves sex.”
“Things escalated. But no, we didn’t have sex. She wanted to, though, as part of her big master plan.” Matt shrugged. “Let’s just say she had plans for both of us that went beyond quick kisses and fumbling clutches. And before you ask what kind of plans, use your damn imagination.”
“Already doing that,” Tris replied, his stomach roiling with the pictures his mind insisted on forming.
What exactly had happened? More to the point, what experiences had they shared without him?
He released a long breath. No wonder Caity had been so shocked and hurt. She’d been the one left out of things going on right under her nose, and now he was in that role. And he didn’t like it one bit.
“Anyway, the point is this. She’s ready for us, Tris. We just need to do this the right way. My way.”
“You kissed her. What else?”
�
��Man, you’re fixated, aren’t you?”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
Matt nodded and sipped more soda. “Hell yeah. Let’s just say other parts of her taste as good as her mouth.”
“Not surprised.” With effort, Tristan tried to focus on the conversation and not what parts of Caity Matt had gotten to sample. Lost cause. “You didn’t get her naked.”
“No. But if I could’ve, I would have. And I wouldn’t have felt guilty. She’s been the goal all along. We ended up being a pleasant side trip, but we weren’t planned. Doesn’t mean we can’t alter the plan a bit now, though.”
“Seriously, Matt, I’m way too freaking hungry to try to make sense of what you’re saying. Get to the point, would you?”
And leave me in peace to try to figure out why the hell Caity kissed me.
Beyond the obvious, of course. She was clearly stretching their boundaries, between what had happened with him and from what had occurred with Matt. Whatever the hell that was.
But there was more to it. The kiss this morning had almost felt like a test. He still didn’t know if he’d passed or failed.
Caity had taken off early a short while ago, but she hadn’t said a word about anything but work to either him or Matt all morning. Nor had she flirted or teased or even flipped her hair.
Hadn’t mattered. His dick was still as hard as a damn brick.
He’d had her in his arms. Her peachy scent still clung to his skin. Their kiss had taken the many fantasies he’d had of her and destroyed them. None of them could hold a candle to the reality of Caity’s lips heating under his and hearing her soft, sweet moans.
“Her birthday’s next weekend.”
“I know that.” Impatience oozed from Tristan’s voice. “Your point?”
“I want the three of us to go up to my cabin.”
“Okay,” he began, belatedly catching the intensity of the look in Matthew’s eyes. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”
“Absolutely. She wants us. And we’re going to give her what she can’t admit she needs, but first we’re going to play hard to get. No more kisses. No more looks. When she comes back in here tonight, treat her like one of the guys.”
“No. I’m not doing this to her. She has no clue what she’s playing with.”
“Tristan.” Matt’s sharp command made him suck in a breath. “She’s shy, and she’s innocent, but she doesn’t want to be. Trust me on that.”
“Caity shy?” He couldn’t hold back the laughter. “Since when?”
“Since I asked her this morning to give herself to both of us, for a start.” Matthew banged his mouse hard enough to make Tristan wince. They were always fucking with the equipment.
Which had been important, oh, a few hours ago. Now he had much bigger problems.
“You asked her to what? Are you fucking crazy? She isn’t ready for—” Words failed him, and he tensed his fingers around his soda until the plastic buckled. “She’s just not.”
Matthew wheeled away from his desk and faced Tristan across the few feet that separated their workstations. “She knows about us, and she still came on to you this morning. You didn’t kiss her, did you?”
Tristan shook his head numbly, still trying to process everything. “No. I startled her, and then I saw she’d broken her mug… No. I didn’t kiss her.”
“She knows we’re lovers, and she’s turned on by it. She’s curious. And there’s no way in hell I’m losing this opportunity to go after what we need. All three of us.” Matt’s voice lowered. “You’re not going to argue with me, got it? And if you don’t, I can promise you we’ll have what we always wanted: Cait.”
Reason demanded he argue. Tristan always argued. Just because Matt directed everything behind the scenes at TD didn’t mean he knew jack about dealing with women outside of the bedroom. His many failed relationships proved that.
But then again, so did Tristan’s. And he was desperate.
He’d finally tasted Caity. How was he supposed to forget that?
Tristan closed his eyes and blew out a breath. When he opened them again, Matthew’s gaze was still fixed on his. “Tell me the plan.”
Chapter 4
He was a genius. And his quarry was signed, sealed, and delivered.
Well, she wasn’t signed, sealed, and delivered yet. But she would be within the next ninety minutes, all listening gods of sex willing.
Matthew snapped the black leather gloves in place and peered out the frosty windshield at Mercer Salon. Somewhere inside, Cait was getting prettified, though why she bothered he didn’t know. She was already gorgeous. Maybe she’d gotten a manicure or pedicure to go with her new hairdo. He was never sure what exactly went on in women’s salons. Regardless, soon she’d be coming outside to walk the two blocks back to their office.
And he’d be waiting.
Tristan had needed a lot of convincing to go along with this plan, and that had been the sanitized version. Matt had said he’d “get” Cait up to his cabin, but he hadn’t specified how. If he had, Tristan would’ve said no way and likely knocked him unconscious to boot.
A smile tipped up Matt's mouth as he eyed the salon. It was a risky move, granted. Bold. Possibly primed to fail. But at least they were doing something. For too long they’d sat around pining, and for what? They needed to proceed to the next step. Fast.
For the past week, since Cait had discovered Matt and Tris in bed, she’d avoided them both. Other than the heated convo with him in his bedroom and that kiss with Tris the morning after, she’d steered clear of them entirely. Making his move before their relationship fractured any more was the only logical decision.
In a perfect world, the three of them would’ve been able to talk this out in a calm, rational fashion, but Cait and Tris weren’t prone to being calm. And he loved them both without reservation, so what the hell did that say about him?
Love made most men into fools. That one of the people he loved was another guy didn’t mitigate that fact in the slightest.
Besides, he knew he was doing the right thing. The only thing. Despite her apparent horror at the suggestion, Cait would come around. And when she did, she’d already be naked and preferably bound, a very good thing for all of them.
She’d told him about her recurring dream of being kidnapped and tied up more than once, always ascribing it to watching too many pirate movies with damsels in distress. But he suspected there was more to it. He’d seen the heat in her eyes and heard the undercurrent in her voice when she'd described those dreams, though she'd been careful to leave out any sexual details. That was all right by him. They’d fill in their own sexual details tonight.
Even if Tris had known about her dreams—hell, they were damn near fantasies with as often as she’d had them—he still would have balked at doing this. For an instant, maybe more, Cait would be afraid. There could be no avoiding that. And that instant, even if it soon turned to arousal, would be more than Tristan could stand.
Matt took the broader view. True, she’d be scared, but briefly. If he was right, that would only make the edge of desire that followed that much sweeter.
If he wasn’t, she’d help Tris lop off his nuts.
Matt climbed down from his truck and pulled up his hooded sweatshirt. He shoved his hands in his jean pockets and blew out an impatient breath as he headed toward the back of the SUV. A mixture of nerves and excitement fueled his pacing, but he tried not to attract any attention or make much noise. There weren’t many people around at dinnertime on a Friday night the week before Christmas. Most people tended to congregate in the shopping district. Mercer Street offered mostly offices with the occasional salon and eye-care place thrown in.
Quite fortuitous that the salon had an alley next to it. Another bit of luck was that the snow showers predicted in the mountains overnight hadn't shifted down this way. Not that he minded the snow, but the road up to the cabin could be treacherous when the temperature dipped below freezing. He had precious cargo to de
liver.
Precious, probably wiggling, screaming cargo. That was where the blindfold and gag came in.
Yeah, the probability she’d hate him was high. But the higher the odds, the more worthwhile the rewards. That was true in both business and life.
Cait, he suspected, would take worthwhile to a whole new level.
A few minutes later, she emerged from the salon, her long golden hair shimmering in the beam of light spilling out from inside. His blood humming, he watched her lift her face to the gently falling snow—his luck had broken there—and lick the flakes off her lips. Smiling, she took her first step toward the alley. He waited until she’d walked past the SUV and then sprang, grabbing her neatly around the waist with one arm while he used his other hand to cover her mouth.
“Don’t fight. You’re safe. I won't hurt you.” He repeated the phrases against her ear as she clawed and kicked and…bit. “Jesus,” he ground out, not letting her go in spite of his burning palm. She’d ruined his glove. Worth it, but still.
“Dammit, Cait, it’s me,” he muttered when she continued to struggle like a wild thing in his arms. So much for trying to add a little mystery. The scenario hadn’t quite accounted for her stark-raving terror. Which he might have underestimated. Significantly. “It’s Matt, Cait. Your best friend?” Used to be anyway. “Stop it, Cait,” he panted, turning her around and pinning her against his SUV when a woman hurried past them, her attention centered on the ground.
Cait stared at him, her eyes huge and dark in her starkly pale face. Tears squeezed between her lashes and tracked down her cheeks, shattering his heart in two.
Christ, what had he done?
“I’m sorry,” he said, and never had it been more true. He’d only wanted to make a grand gesture. Something over the top and sexy, with that little added tinge of fear. Maybe he'd hoped that would allow him to control her too—just long enough to get her to listen to reason.
His reason. And that was just as wrong as the rest.
She was still quivering, though her tears had halted. He tugged back the hood of his sweatshirt, but it didn’t make a difference. She still looked at him as if he were a stranger.
