Rachel turned the lights out and slid onto the bed.
They would laugh about this in the morning.
Her head hit the pillow. She closed her eyes and passed out too.
Chapter Seventeen
“What happens on the bus…stays on the bus. I need to put that on a T-shirt and wear it,” Rachel muttered to herself.
After she’d woken up to Christian asleep next to her in bed the next morning—and had a mini heart attack, but then calmed down when her fuzzy brain remembered all that had happened—Rachel found the courage to tiptoe down the hallway, shake Adam awake on the couch and take him home. They left Trevor and Christian asleep on the bus and walked back to the Victorian house together, not saying a word. Adam’s arm went around her shoulder and she wrapped both of hers around his waist. Back in their room, they brushed their teeth, changed into pajamas, took two Naproxen each and dropped into bed.
“Come here, babe,” Adam rumbled as he pulled her close, curved around her back and kissed her neck.
Heaven.
And on that note, she’d fallen asleep.
Around noon, she and Adam woke up for good, showered and walked downstairs to have lunch together in the spacious farmhouse kitchen that was beginning to feel like home. It was easy being with Adam. He insisted she sit while he made her coffee just the way she liked—powdered creamer, no sugar. Then he made his own—creamer and two Splenda.
Afterwards, he pulled a PowerBar out of the walk-in pantry and waved it at her. “You want one?” he offered, brown eyes crinkling with mischief.
“No.” She grimaced. “You know I think those things are disgusting. The only way you’d catch me eating one is if I were about to die from starvation, and even then I’d probably commit cannibalism first.”
He took a large bite, pulled her out of her seat, wrapped an arm around her waist and leaned in close, chewing big and smacking his lips. “Ah, now that’s good stuff.”
“Gross,” she exclaimed and pressed hands against his naked chest, trying to get away.
“Sure you don’t want some? There’s lots more where this came from, darling.”
“No, but your arm’s looking pretty tasty right now. Give me that, I just need some salt…” She took hold of his wrist and pretended to take a bite out of his forearm.
He threw back his head and laughed, then leaned down and kissed her hard, his mouth overflowing with PowerBar.
“Stop it! You’re making me sick.” She giggled and elbowed him, slipping out of his reach. “Sit down. I’ll make us something to eat. Something we both like.”
His eyebrows shot up, but he did as she asked, walking around to sit on a stool at the counter. Shirtless. Wearing nothing but loose, flannel pajama pants, all bronze skin and sculpted muscles.
“Don’t worry. Even I can use the microwave.”
He gave her a skeptical look and took another bite of his PowerBar.
She put her hands on her hips. “I know how to use the microwave.”
He didn’t say a word, just stared at her with those twinkling brown eyes. She looked away first. “I’ll show you,” she threw over her shoulder, hoping she really could use the microwave and not burn their food like she’d done last time.
And the time before that.
Five minutes later, she was having trouble concentrating, her eyes continually drifting to Adam as he quietly looked through another old magazine. She noticed he liked to do that in the kitchen. A cup of coffee and a magazine, it was his routine. His strong fingers turned the pages, his face a mask of concentration. Maybe next time she went to town she could raid the Barnes & Noble for him and collect all the magazines, so he’d have a fresh supply. For a while at least.
“I like you like that,” she told him as she opened their packaged meals.
“Like what?”
She smiled. “Reading, without a shirt on.”
He grinned over his coffee cup. “How about you take your shirt off too?”
“Sorry,” she said as she clicked open the microwave. “Trevor or Christian could come through that front door any minute, so…no can do.”
“Sounds like I’m going to need to get some new locks on those doors,” he muttered.
Trying her best to not gawk at Adam’s gorgeous physique, Rachel heated up three chicken and rice meals for them in the microwave. Two for Adam and one for her. She clapped with joy when they came out perfect.
“See,” she told him. “I can cook.”
He glanced up at her. “You can reheat,” he clarified.
Warmth spread across her cheeks. “Adam, I’m trying here.”
“I know.” He smiled, tugged her by the wrist and placed her on his lap. “I know you are.”
“What are you doing?” She laughed. “I’m trying to eat.”
“You sit here and I’ll feed you,” he said.
“On your lap? I can’t eat while sitting on your lap.”
“Yes, you can. Watch.” He fed her a bite of chicken that, considering it was part of their emergency food kits, wasn’t so bad. But sitting on his lap, being spoon fed—it was a little awkward at first. She’d always been that big girl guys never picked up, let alone invited to sit on their laps.
“Relax,” he said. “I want to take care of you.”
She leaned back against his hard chest and let him feed her. Shocking how the simple act of eating lunch could be so intimate.
Then a memory from last night leapt into her brain. She stiffened and sat up in his lap. “Wait, I must be getting over my hangover, because I’m remembering what happened last night. What was up with that?”
“Last night?” Adam swallowed his food and shrugged. “It was about relaxing for once, drinking and getting drunk.”
“No…no,” she exclaimed and tried to get up so she could confront him. He tightened his arm around her waist. She turned to look at him. “The part where Trevor was hitting on me, his hand on my knee, and you two looked at each other and you nodded, Adam, you nodded, like you were giving him the go ahead or something. That. That’s what I’m talking about. What was that?”
He sat up straight, turned her more so they could talk, but still kept her on his lap. “Hmm,” he said, not looking the least bit guilty. “Well, that…that was me testing the waters.”
“Testing the waters? What are you talking about? I thought you were pissed at the idea of Trevor hitting on me. Or any man for that matter. Remember what you said? What’s mine is mine.” She didn’t realize until that exact moment how much those words had meant to her. How she’d held on to them for dear life. Was this what he meant by sharing her?
“Yep. All of that is true, and I’d kill or at the very least maim any man who touched you without my permission. But that’s the difference, I gave Trevor my permission.”
“Why would you give Trevor your permission to touch me?” Her throat tightened as she croaked out the words.
Oh, crap.
Here it was.
This was where she would find out this whole relationship was in her head. She’d always known it, hadn’t she? Her chest burned. How could she have been so stupid to think she would ever be able to keep a man like Adam? She was the only woman in their little group. He probably thought she was the last woman alive, and that was the only reason she and Adam were together, why he found her attractive. Wasn’t it? Lack of choice and forced proximity would make anyone seem appealing. Maybe he was finally ready to pass her along to Trevor, share her with his new friends. For all she knew, they’d already discussed it.
Oh, God.
Adam’s gaze scanned her face. His voice changed, softened with concern. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“What’s mine is mine, when you said that…that really just meant mine for now, didn’t it?” She dug her fingernails into the inside of her palms. She wasn’t going to y
ell, wasn’t going to cry, wasn’t even going to fight it. She just needed clarification.
He pushed his plate to the side. “That’s not true.”
Her shoulders slumped. She turned away from him, not wanting him to see her fighting back tears. She wasn’t going to cry. “No, it’s okay. I understand,” she said as she struggled to get out of his arms. Because really, she did. Deep, deep down, she’d always known it wouldn’t last. She felt something he didn’t. It was as simple as that. For him it was lust, scratching an itch, and for her, well, maybe it was more. But it had all been nothing but a fantasy she created in her head.
And the fantasy was over.
He pulled her back and turned her around to face him. She kept her eyes studiously leveled on his chest.
“Rachel,” he rumbled. “Yesterday, Trevor asked me again in private if I would share you with him.”
His words hit like a blow. A sob escaped and tore through her chest. Yep. They’d discussed her, bartered for her like she was a freaking bag of sugar. Planned it out. Well, there was no way in hell she was ever going to—
“Rachel,” Adam cut through her thoughts. “Remember—” he tucked a finger under her chin, “—no one touches you unless you want them to.”
“Uh, huh.” She gave him a curt nod.
Whatever.
This temporary world she’d started to rebuild for herself was crumbling around her, folding like a house of cards. That little ray of hope snuffing out. Tears burned behind her eyes. She tried again to tug out of his embrace.
He held her tight. “Wait. We need to talk. I was going to discuss this with you tonight, but it looks like it needs to be said here and now.” He let out a breath. “Yesterday, Trevor suggested something different.” He paused. “He suggested we share you at the same time.”
“What?” Her head jerked up.
“Trevor said he understood you’re my woman, and that there’s no way he’s getting in there because he could see for himself how you felt about me.”
Her belly fluttered with a strange mixture of happiness and embarrassment at that pronouncement. “I’m your woman? How does he know that?”
He cocked his head to the side. “Rachel, are you in my bed every night?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m fucking you every night, right? And you’re sleeping in my bed. Therefore, you’re my woman, and it’s going to stay that way for the foreseeable future.”
That wasn’t that comforting. It should be, but it wasn’t. All she could think about were his words—foreseeable future. What did that mean? Did he mean for the next twenty-four hours, the next few weeks or forever?
“He knows he has no way in with you. But he’s hoping we can have a ménage, a threesome, where I’m in charge, I call the shots and he’s the third.”
Her jaw dropped open. “What?” she said again. Her voice weak. “You two were talking about me, about this?”
“Yes. Ménage, you know what that is, don’t you?”
“Yes, sort of,” she said, automatically trying to play the good girl. “Um, it’s both of you having sex with me at the same time.” But seriously, of course she knew what it was. What kind of G-rated porn did he think she watched?
Adam smiled and rubbed his cheek against her hair. His arms felt good wrapped around her waist. “He asked me, Rachel. Trevor played this the right way, going through me first. And he asked because it’s not new to him. He’s done it before. He had a relationship with another couple in the past. He remembers it as something good, something that made all of them happy. That they enjoyed.”
“Wow,” she whispered.
“I want to be in charge, call the shots, watch another man pleasure you, fuck you. But all the while I’ll know you’re mine. You know you’re mine, and so does he. He only gets to fuck you, touch you, when I say. And the two of us can fuck you at once. His cock in your ass, and I get your pussy.”
Her heart stuttered in her chest, like a car engine gasping its last breath. Her mouth felt dry and gritty.
“What do you think about what I just said?”
“Well, I…um.” Wow. This was even more over the top than when he’d pushed her against the side of the Hummer and told her about his needs. Now she was finding that he was into ménage? She swallowed against the lump in her throat. Who was into ménage in real life?
Adam. Adam was.
Oh, and Trevor too.
Wait, wasn’t ménage something people only did in porn movies?
“Rachel, talk to me.”
She looked into his eyes. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I know, honey.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Let me guess. You’ll need time to process the idea before you can give me an answer, right?”
“Uh, yeah.” Shit, he knew her too well. Her brow furrowed. “Yeah, I need to process it. It’s a lot to take in.”
“And you’re not saying no, right?” He grinned. “You just need time to think.”
“Exactly. I’m not saying no. It’s just a lot to take in,” she repeated.
He took her off his lap and stood up. Adam kissed her gently on the lips. “Okay, you take the time to do that. If you think of any questions, you can ask me later. If you decide you don’t want to have sex with Trevor and me at the same time, it won’t happen. No hard feelings. You will not be made to feel uncomfortable. Not by me, not by Trevor. You understand?”
“I understand.” That had to be the nicest invitation to a ménage anyone had ever had. Her lips twitched.
He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “I’m done here.” He lifted his chin toward the door. “I’m going to go get dressed and go out to find the others and see what they’re up to. Are you still going to work on the garden today?”
“Yeah,” she agreed absently, still shocked beyond belief at his proposition.
“Okay. Use the walkie-talkie to let me know where you are.” He gave her another soft, gentle kiss on the lips and started to walk away.
“Adam, wait,” she called out. He stopped and turned around.
“Have you ever done it before?” She paused. “Have you ever been in a ménage?”
“Yes. Once before, and not in a relationship.”
“Is this something you’ve always wanted?”
“Yeah, it is.” His voice deepened. “But it’s only something I’d want if you want it too. If you don’t want it, I don’t either.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Adam wasn’t breaking up with her. Or passing her along to his friends. She took a deep breath. Instead, he wanted to invite another man into their bed so they could both have sex with her at the same time.
Yikes.
She scrubbed the countertop harder. Oh, forget it. She threw down the sponge. She wasn’t going to think about this right now. Later. She’d think about this later. Right now, she needed a break from all the drama. It was too much.
Rachel finished tidying up the kitchen, grabbed her iPod and solar charger, some snacks and water, and went outside. She’d spied a sad and unkempt garden the day they’d driven up, like a secret garden that needed a friend to bring it back to life. She knew a little about gardening from summers spent helping her grandmother tend to hers, and if she was going to ever eat tomatoes, bell pepper and zucchini ever again, she knew she’d better get cracking.
Her shoes crunched on the soil as she walked around the side of the house. The weather was nice today. Spring was always so changeable, rain one minute, fluffy clouds the next, but today was dry and warm. She lifted her chin, loving the feel of sun of her face.
The garden was on the other side of the driveway and consisted of two
large raised beds surrounded by a high fence. There was a shed filled with plenty of equipment and irrigation materials. She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. Half the plants were brown and weeds choked each row of vegetables.
“Shit.” She sighed. “This is going to be a big job.”
Thirty minutes later, a dark image caught the corner of Rachel’s vision. Concerned, she threw down the trowel and popped out her earplugs. A low animal growl hit her ears. A steady, monotonous drum. Like a lawnmower. Her hands froze and her breath turned choppy. “You’ve gotta be kidding,” she muttered.
The rumble turned snarly. Louder. Dangerous and violent.
Swallowing against the golf ball-sized lump in her throat, Rachel peered over the plants she’d been weeding. Three large dogs crowded the entrance to her garden and more fanned the outside perimeter.
Pets gone wild.
Dammit. Not again. Why her? Shit, this was starting to feel personal.
Her eyes darted to the open gate. Son of a bitch. Why had she brought that snack food along for any passing animal to smell and left the entrance to the garden wide open? And where was the walkie-talkie? She patted her pockets. Where was it?
Shit. She might as well have put out a sign—here doggy, doggy. Come and eat me.
A shiny black Doberman stood in front of the pack. It stepped forward, blocking her only escape. Its body a perfect muscular specimen of the breed with straight-up pointy ears and a thick leather collar. If the thing were cleaner, it could have been a show dog. Someone’s prized possession. Someone’s spoiled pet. The dog had probably lived a cushier life than she ever had. But now, it looked mean and feral, with ribs standing out in relief, ready to tear her apart over a bite of food.
Dark lips folded back to reveal black gums and dense rows of snapping sharp teeth.
A mangy German shepherd backed the Doberman, bringing along his friend, a stocky pit-bull mix. They flanked their leader like two mob enforcers ready for a fight. She could almost hear them cracking their knuckles.
Her stomach went into free fall. “Oh shit,” she whispered. Fight-or-flight kicked in. A reaction she’d grown used to since her life had been shaken up and stirred like the interior of a snow globe.
Die for You Page 16
