by Holley Trent
“It’s my Yankee ingenuity, I guess. But Ken has a point. I’m used to being candid and just saying what I want, and since we don’t have time to waste, I’ll do that now.”
The suspense was killing her. What could he possibly want? To keep her on the hook for whenever he and Ken craved an extra body in their bed? They had eleven years of history, and they were good together. She didn’t want to be the cause of nonstop arguing and contention. While she liked them both, adored them both, she didn’t want to be that woman.
“Olivia, don’t you like waking up between the two of us?” he asked. There was none of his usual jocularity in his voice. No hubris, no confidence.
Did she like it? Of course she did, but she’d gone to The Beaudelaire with the expectation of leaving her inhibitions at the door and doing things just because they felt nice. Ken and Clint made her feel nice. No, better than nice—wanted. Desperately wanted. It would be days before she’d be able to get her hair to lay flat and longer for her to come down off the high.
Ken wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “Please answer him, Liv,” he whispered.
She stared down into her rosy carbonated drink. She could say no and end this mess now. The boys would fly home and wouldn’t try to track her down like this again. They’d move on and maybe find some other warm body to make a sandwich with.
But…she didn’t like that idea. She didn’t like it any more than Clint had liked the thought of Ken being in anyone’s bed but his.
“Yes,” she said at last, still looking into her glass. “But that doesn’t mean anything. You two are wonderful company, and I appreciate that I didn’t have to spend my last day alone. I didn’t expect to play in a ménage, but I don’t regret it.”
Neither man said anything for a while, then Ken shifted, and Clint jolted and hissed, “Ow! Fuck, Ken. You need to remember I’m the sadist of us two, and if you kick me again, I’ll make sure you never forget it.”
“Baby, I’ll kick you even harder if necessary. Use your words. Tell her.”
She looked from one man to the other, awaiting the response. She’d had enough with the mystery, already.
“Look, O, I…” Clint sighed, reached across the table, and clasped her hands. “We came after you not because we forgot to exchange numbers and were hoping for a future hookup. We want to see you every time you fly into Raleigh, even if it’s just a couple of hours. We want you to be comfortable with us. To trust us.”
“Trust you? Why?”
“We’re not looking for a toy. We’ve got plenty of those.”
Ken chuckled softly beside her.
“We want to pull you into our fold and…” He turned her weak right hand over. “And take care of you. Give you something permanent.”
She was ready to tell him off. To tell him she could take care of her goddamn self and had been for years, but…then that mangled hand of hers chose that exact moment to start shaking, reminding her of yet another thing she’d neglected besides finding a real place to live and seeing the world.
They were right. Nothing about her life was permanent. She didn’t have a regular doctor, never signed a lease for longer than six months, and never took a long-term lover, because she hadn’t found a good enough place or reason to settle down.
As if he knew the thoughts flitting through her mind, Clint raised her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.
“We’re not asking you to jump headfirst into anything, because if we rush it, we won’t find our balance. I’m greedy, and I’m not great at sharing. I want both of you all to myself.”
“So I’ve noticed.”
“Yeah, it’s one of my numerous flaws. But, I trust Ken with my life, and I want to be able to share you with him. I want to share him with you.”
“You…” She cleared her throat and forced herself to meet his gaze. It was so desperate. Frightened, even. “You really want to give this a shot? I worry that you two are cheating on each other with me.”
They both shook their heads emphatically.
“Don’t you dare feel guilty,” Ken said. “Nothing we do is without consent. Besides, we don’t want you to feel like you’re the other. This isn’t like swinging. This is about becoming a trio instead of a pair. We don’t want you to be an outsider. If you want us, both of us, you’ll always have someplace to go when you’re not in the air. Will you at least think about it?”
An announcement crackled from the nearby speaker. Olivia’s flight was boarding.
Ken sighed and eased off the bench to let her out. Clint stood, extended her suitcase handle, and pulled the bag behind him.
They walked slowly and in silence toward the gate and stopped just at the corner before the queuing passengers.
Ken opened his arms for a hug, and she stepped into his warm, spicy embrace. They rocked side to side for a few beats, then he gently grazed his lips over hers. “Safe travels, Liv,” he whispered.
“Don’t scrub off too much of your dirt,” she said and rose up to put her lips near his ear. “The next time I see you, I want to count every one of your tattoos.”
He pressed his stubbly cheek against hers and chuckled. “You’d have to get me naked.”
“Then I’m sure we’ll both enjoy it.”
Reluctantly, she let go of him and turned to face Clint. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and his face was an unreadable mask. She knew better. He was a man who felt so much but showed so little. When he exhibited no emotion, he was likely feeling too many to process.
Her heart ached for him, guessing what he must be feeling.
She took a step forward and hooked her thumbs into his belt loops then looked up at him. He exhaled slowly through his mouth and put his hands on either side of her head. He skimmed her cheeks and toyed with the messy fringes of her hair.
“O, I don’t want to say goodbye to you.”
“So, don’t say goodbye. Tell me you refuse to imagine me in anyone else’s bed.”
“I do refuse. You should wake up every morning between me and Ken, or at least in very close proximity.”
“Oh, I see. Maybe you can clear your bed off by Thursday. Make sure all your boxer shorts and socks aren’t on it.”
“Why’s that?”
Oh, he already knew, or at least suspected. She could tell by the way he seemed to be fighting a smile.
“I’ve got a long layover in Raleigh. You’ll pick me up?”
“Tell me the time, and we’ll both be there.”
“Okay. Two o’clock. We’ll have six whole hours.” She put her hands at the back of his neck and pulled him down closer to her. She didn’t care that people were watching and probably wondering why she was being so damned friendly with two men. If anyone asked, she’d say she was making up for lost time. Besides, she wasn’t on duty. She needed both Ken and Clint to fill in the void of her spirit that had been solitary for so many years. She traced the tip of her tongue over his lips, before he kissed her back, gently and soulfully, while toying with her hair.
“I didn’t get a kiss like that,” Ken said.
Olivia laughed as she pulled away from Clint and reached for her suitcase handle. “You didn’t need one. When you do, you’ll get one, and I’ll enjoy giving it.”
“I’ll hold you to that, Liv.”
“I hope you do.”
She joined the line of passengers and gave her boys one last wave.
They waved back without enthusiasm and clasped each other’s hands. At least they had each other.
All Olivia could do was count down to Thursday and remember that even if she was alone for the next few nights, there’d be two men waiting for her when she landed. If she understood them as well as she thought, they’d do their damnedest to make her want to stay.
And she wanted to stay.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Dear readers,
O for Two is an installment of the Den of Sin multi-author series. The collection contains stories by Mel Blue
, Ambrielle Kirk, L.V. Lewis, Renee Luke, and me. Each season has a new theme, and each story features a new couple (or trio). The Hotel Beaudelaire guests come for the passion, but often go home in love.
You’ll enjoy the Den world the most if you read the stories in order of their seasons, but you can jump in anywhere and pick the romance that suits your mood.
See the full backlist of Den of Sin titles at the series website.
Want to see what happens next with Ken, Clint, and Olivia? Then click to the next page to read an excerpt from Out of Bounds—a story from the Reedsville Roosters spin-off! The Roosters are the minor league baseball team Henri decided to sponsor. Needless to say, they bring duffel bags full of drama to the series.
Also, be sure you’re subscribed to my contemporary romance newsletter so you don’t miss a single new Den or Reedsville release!
OUT OF BOUNDS
Gary Morstad has had more than his fair share of intimate encounters with married women, but he thought he’d left that promiscuous lifestyle behind when he hightailed it out of the Miami manservant scene. He wants love, not more meaningless encounters. So, it’s just his luck that a greasy mechanic with the charm of a turnip has hooked the only woman Gary has ever wanted to behave himself for.
When the taciturn mechanic—Dean Yeats—vengefully volunteers to chaperone Gary during his mortifying return to his former minor league team, their antagonistic exchanges segue to a smoldering two-way attraction…and then a three-way one.
Gary’s over-the-top antics and larger-than-life personality get Dean loose and laughing in the way Dean’s wife Lorena craves seeing, however Lorena worries their ménage arrangement won’t outlast the season. Gary is endearing and unforgettable, but he’s also reckless. Men like him rarely play by the rules, and she’s not so sure she and Dean can help him make the new ones Gary so desperately needs.
___
CHAPTER ONE
Gary Morstad pointed the aluminum baseball bat in the general direction of his cousin Clint and narrowed his eyes. “I want a do-over so I can pick a different team. You’ve got a bunch of ringers on your side.”
Clint leaned against the chain-link park fence, lifted his cap, and then dragged his fingers through the bright red hair beneath it. He wore that damned half-smile that always made their ever-scandalized grandmother reach, muttering, for the nearest Bible. “What’d I tell you about judging books by their covers?” he asked. “I’ve taught you this lesson time and time again. Maybe next time, you’ll listen to the wisdom of your elders.”
Gary scoffed and tapped his foot impatiently. “You also told me not to trust shit you say when you’re looking me in the eyes, so what’s the truth?” He scanned the handful of folks on the field. Half were drunk, a quarter were probably almost there, and the rest knew jack shit about baseball.
The game was supposed to have been a friendly diversion. The cookout had turned a little competitive, maybe, but that happened a lot whenever Clint and Gary were together in a big enough group. The cookout at the sprawling, well-manicured, new park in Wake Forest was actually to celebrate Clint’s daughter Sidney’s first birthday. Gary hadn’t visited North Carolina specifically for the event, but just happened to be there for the occasion. His roommate, Quinn, had moved out of their Miami apartment, and Gary figured the time was as good as any to leave the city. He’d loved Miami, but the scene hadn’t loved him back. If he’d spent much more time there on his own, he probably would have ended up in prison. The manservant gigs he’d been accepting outside of his agency assignments paid well, but tended to be questionably legal.
Definitely illegal.
Gary blew a raspberry, shook off the memories of his former seedy exploits, and turned back to his older cousin. “Do-over.”
Clint shook his head. “Nope. Suck it up and learn a lesson from the natural consequences of your actions. You assumed the girls couldn’t hit, and they taught you otherwise.”
“Heh heh.” Olivia—Sidney’s mother, and something of a stand-in mom for Gary at times—leaned against the fence beside her boyfriend and studied her nails. “Gary, you’re such a sucker.”
Gary growled at her.
“Hey,” she said. “You know Clint’s right. That’s what you get. I mean, we could quit now before Ken gets back from the booze store, and that way there’d be one less witness to the disaster that is your team.”
“I heard that!” came an indignant feminine voice from the general direction of third base.
Gary pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, not bothering to turn to look.
Lorena Yeats had been busting his chops all afternoon, and he probably deserved every morsel of the woman’s playful derision. Gary was a pretty good player—he’d played in the minor league for the Reedsville Roosters for a while until his “charming demeanor” and certain interpersonal disasters got him booted from the team.
He knew the game and how to expertly bend the rules, but he didn’t make much of a coach. Lorena had been informing him of such for five innings.
Clint pulled Olivia closer and gave her a conspiratorial look. “I think he’ll forfeit from the shame. Don’t you?”
“That stubborn bum?” Olivia asked. “I’m not gonna hold my breath.”
“Thanks a lot, guys,” Gary muttered.
They were right about one thing, though—he didn’t want any more witnesses to the disaster.
Clint and Olivia, along with their lover Ken, had been in a committed ménage relationship for a couple of years. Olivia was the newcomer to the family. Clint and Ken had been together for the better part of a decade before they’d picked her up at a New Orleans kink event called the Den of Sin. She was stunning, smart, adventurous, and willing to call both men out on their bullshit. Exactly what they’d needed, basically.
They were probably going to go home with Ken and yuk it up good about Gary’s big coed baseball fail, and probably while in some state of undress.
Lucky bastards.
Drumming his fingers against the sides of his thighs and clucking his tongue, Gary pulled his gaze from the parental pair at the fence, scanned his team again, and sighed. “Daisy-picking something-or-others.”
“I’m multitasking,” Lorena called out, and held up a yellow weed. “And that’s actually a dandelion. Learn your flowers, bro.”
Gary pinched the bridge of his nose again, stifled a laugh, and then called out, “I quit. No way in hell we’re gonna catch up.”
The score was five-to-one.
The lushes in the field obviously agreed, and thus began to stagger, shamble, and lurch toward the fence.
Clint gave Gary a condescending pat on the shoulder. “Don’t feel bad. You may be a player, but you’re not a master like me.”
Gary rolled his eyes. “All right, old man. At least all my body parts still work the way they’re supposed to. How’s forty looking?”
Clint gave Gary’s shoulder a “light” punch that made Gary pee a little. “I’m not forty yet.”
Gary leered at him and rubbed. “Close enough. I’m sure all your various ligaments and cartilages behave as if you were.”
“With that mouth, I see now why you got tossed from the team,” Lorena said, shaking her head.
Gary threw up his hands. “Does everyone know about that? Is a man allowed no secrets?”
“I’m sure you’re allowed a few.” She waggled her eyebrows and reached into one of the beer coolers. After rooting through the ice for a while, she actually found a can of Natty Light, and probably the last one. “You’re one of Olivia’s favorite conversational nuggets.”
He cut his gaze to his little cousin’s former incubator. “Oh?”
Olivia shrugged and shifted Sidney to her other hip. “You know how things go at work. Whenever I fly in or out of RDU and Lo’s working a gate, we grab a meal in the food court. The choices are to either talk to each other or stare lamely at our phones. Gossiping is more fun.”
“And you talk about me?”
Olivia pinched his cheek. “You’re just so interesting, sweetie.”
“I’m glad someone thinks so.”
Clint chuckled. “Lots of people think so. Our grandmother, for one.”
“I don’t think interesting is the word she used, cuz.”
“I can’t remember precisely, but whatever language she used was still far more flattering than anything she’s called me in the past twenty years.”
“Well, you can’t deny you set a bad example,” Gary said.
Clint gave Gary an eloquent stare. It was a warning, and Gary knew better than to push the one person who always had his back.
Clint’s name had been dragged through the mud in the Morstad clan for going on twenty years over his decisions—personal and professional—and few people could accept that he did what he had to in order to be happy. Personally, Gary respected him for his bravery. At times, Gary wished he could be more like him, but he just wasn’t as good at planning and thinking. Gary always needed someone telling him what to do.
“Sorry man,” Gary muttered.
“Don’t sweat it.”
“I think you get in plenty of trouble all by yourself,” Lorena said to Gary. She cocked her head coquettishly and wore what had to be her customer service grin.
“Are you gonna bust my chops all damn day?” he asked Lorena.
She nodded. “It’s fun. And relaxing.”
“Maybe for you. What about me?”
“What about you? No need to be selfish. You should be more giving. Be a better person.”
Gary’s eyes goggled, and he ran his hand across them. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of playful ragging, and he certainly wasn’t used to getting his balls busted by a woman, except Olivia. In the past year, most of the women he’d been in the company of couldn’t tell a joke even if the text had been printed on the side of their wine glasses for them to read aloud.
