The Goose, the Gander, & the Three French Hens

by Robin Kaye

  The connection of their mouths grew deeper; he took her mouth just the way she wanted him—hard, fast, thorough—driving her need to embarrassing heights. His hand slid down her spine, making her back arch, straining against his hard body. His lips trailed from her mouth, over her jaw, and to her neck.

  She dropped her head back, giving him better access, and hit the upper cabinet—hard.

  “Sorry, babe.” He ran a hand over her scalp. “Hold on. We’re moving.”

  Before she had the chance to even register his request, he had both hands under her butt and lifted her right off the counter. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms gripped his shoulders, and every step he took sent pleasure shooting right from his fly to her core. He kissed her, stifling her groan with his tongue. She thought he’d take her to the bedroom, maybe the couch, but after three tantalizing strides, her ass hit the cold tile of her table. He kicked a chair to the side and bent her back over his arm.

  “Jack?”

  “Give me a second just to look at you.” His eyes locked on hers and she couldn’t look away. His gaze was intense, erotic, carnal. No one had ever looked at her with such heat. She didn’t know if it scared her or excited her—maybe both. Sure, she’d had sex, but the sex she had was nothing like this . . . not even with Jack. She’d never felt this need—a need so raw and sharp and all consuming. It sent her heartbeat racing into the danger zone. Blood rushed through her ears, drowning out the sounds of heavy breathing, and her skin felt too tight for her body.

  Jack dragged his mouth down the length of her neck, nibbling on the tendon above her collarbone, shooting sparks from her breasts to heaven—hell, even her toes got into the act. He pulled her dress down over her breasts; the cool air brushed her aching puckered nipples. “No bra. I’ve been wondering all night.” He took his time staring, and she felt his gaze on her breasts as sure as she would his rough callused hands, but he didn’t touch, he just stared.

  She lay spread out on the cold tile table like a still life she’d positioned just so. “Jack, the bed’s just—”

  “Too far.” He bent over her and growled as his mouth slid over her breast, sucking it deep, earning a groan from her. He skimmed his hand up her thigh, cupping her ass. He released her breast and his dark eyes searched hers. “No underwear?”

  “Thong.”

  “History.” He reached up and, with one tug, did away with it.

  Claire’s breath escaped in a whoosh when he ripped her favorite thong right off her. Okay, so it was her only thong. She saw the necessity—no one liked panty lines, but honestly, she couldn’t say she actually enjoyed wearing it. His whole caveman thing, though . . . Yeah, she liked that. Who knew it was such a turn-on?

  Jack knew lust. Hell, he’d wanted Mary Claire since the first day of seventh grade when he’d noticed her wearing a bra. It had taken him four years of cajoling to get her out of it, and there hadn’t been one day in those four years he hadn’t wanted her. He’d gone home hard every time they’d stolen off together for almost three years. He’d known all about lust and, like most things, he’d learned it from Mary Claire, but damn, he’d never ached with it the way he did at this moment.

  He stared at the sight she made, her dress pushed up to her hips, the top of it pulled beneath a set of the most amazing breasts he’d ever seen. She’d increased at least a cup size since the last time he’d seen her naked. Her face flushed; her eyes dark, heavy lidded, and almost wild with excitement. Her scent was sweet and strong and so damn intoxicating he wanted to kiss and lick every centimeter of her body. He wanted to taste her in all the ways he’d never had the guts to try when they were together in the past. He wanted it all. He wanted it now. He tugged a chair over, sat between her legs and pulled her to the edge of the table. “Put your legs over my shoulders.”

  “What?”

  She looked dazed and confused. When she didn’t move fast enough, he helped her. She rose up on her elbows, her hair playing peekaboo with her breasts. He kissed the dent of her navel, trailed open-mouth kisses from her hip to the apex of her thighs, and then dipped his head for a taste.

  Her hands grabbed his hair, her short nails bit into his scalp, and the sound of her groan, the sweet taste of her on his tongue, and the pressure of her thighs against his head were enough to make his dick jump and throb.

  Damn, she hadn’t so much as touched him, not that he’d given her much of a chance. He slid a finger deep inside. She was tight, and hot, and wet. He drew it out and added another, twisting them and attacking her G-spot from both sides, exerting just the right amount of pressure with his tongue, gauging her reaction, driving her up fast and holding her there on the precipice, leaving her teetering on the edge of madness. It was only fair, because at that moment, that’s exactly where he was—hanging by his nails to the edge of control. He needed her to come because once he got inside her, he wasn’t going to last.

  “Jack?”

  He didn’t let up, he licked and swirled and when he was sure she could take no more, he used his teeth and watched her shatter. Heard her cries of completion, and he drew it out, making the orgasm roll through her, not letting up until she was boneless.

  He kissed his way up her flushed body, her muscles jumping under his lips. The dress was definitely in the way. “How does this come off? I know for a fact there isn’t a zipper.”

  “You kind of have to peel it off.”

  “That’s something I’d like to watch.” Instead of peeling it off, she was busy pulling it up. Damn.

  “And to think I’d planned to unwrap you.” She held his face in her hands and kissed him before readjusting her dress over her breasts, and then tugging the skirt down under her butt. “I thought about ripping your clothes off, but I didn’t want to look desperate.” She stared at the straining fly of his pants.

  “Far be it from me to interfere with your plans. I guess it’s a good thing I’m still dressed.”

  She licked her lips and damned if he didn’t feel it all the way to his dick.

  He tried to clear his parched throat. “A little desperation every now and then never hurt anyone.” His hands shook with it and the longer she stared, the worse it got. Hell, he was desperate enough for the both of them. “Do your worst—I’m looking forward to it.” He just hoped like hell he didn’t embarrass himself.

  Mary Claire slid off the table and finished adjusting her dress, and then bent down and picked up what was left of her thong.

  Seeing her down there, looking up at him, just made the situation in his pants worse. He blew out a breath and tried to get a grip on his wavering control. He took her hand and pulled her up. “That’s not helping, babe.”

  A slow, knowing smile slid into place, tilting her lips up, and he was surprised to see a little hint of evil. It was the embarrassed blush covering her cheeks that made him wonder at the dichotomy. Was she embarrassed about coming on his tongue or about whatever, hopefully dirty, little thoughts flew through her quick mind?

  She turned her attention to the buttons on his shirt and then discarded it. Her hands slid over his chest, followed by her lips. He ground his teeth together and walked her backward toward the hall, figuring her bedroom had to be that way. When she stroked his abs on the way to his belt and licked her lips again, he knew he’d never make it to the bedroom. The couch was going to have to do. This time at least.

  “Mary Claire?”

  She raked her teeth over his throat, slid her hand into his pants, gripped his erection, and drove him past the point of control.

  In one move he had her dress off and set her on the couch. “It can’t be helped, babe, but this time is going to be quick.”

  “This time?”

  He ripped a condom from his wallet and dropped his pants.

  “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He toed off his shoes and yanked off the rest of his clothes. By the time he hit the couch, he was wearing nothing but a condom.

  She stared like she’d never seen his dick befo
re.

  “Now come here.” He wrapped his hands around her waist, picked her up, and set her on his thighs, kissing the shocked look right off her face. He pulled her close, groaned when her heat hit his erection, and her breasts flattened against his chest. “Just raise up a little. Hold on to my shoulders.” He held her hips and the tip of his dick slid right into position. He locked his jaw, put some subtle downward pressure on her hips, and watched her face as she slid over him. Inch by inch, so tight and hot. “Just relax.” He wasn’t sure if he said that for his benefit or hers, because it took everything in him not to thrust into her.

  He took her breast into his mouth, slipped his hand between their bodies, and when his thumb circled that bundle of nerves in time with his mouth, she slid farther down and he hoped to hell he could get her off in the next minute or two because if he lasted that long, it would be a miracle.

  When he was fully seated he took over, setting the pace, drawing her up, thrusting into her, grinding. Her nails cut into his shoulders, her back arched, tilting her hips to take him deeper, harder, and when ripples of pleasure and heat broke over her onto him, he let go with a curse in the most spine-tingling, gut-searing climax he’d ever experienced.

  Chapter 4

  “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” blared from Claire’s iPhone, waking her from the most delicious dream. She reached over to kill the alarm when strong arms tightened around her. Wow—okay, not a dream.

  “What a way to wake up.” Jack’s breath tickled her back and his beard brushed her spine as he kissed his way down.

  “A fan of ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer’?”

  “No, a fan of waking up with a warm, gorgeous woman in my arms. This is a first for us.”

  Waking up with a man—any man—was a first for her. Hell, most of what they did last night had been a first for her, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. He kissed a tender spot on her lower back. “Damn.”

  “What?”

  “Does that hurt? I think you have a little rug burn. But then, it could be wall burn. I don’t know why they put so much texture on the walls around here.”

  She tried to look over her shoulder, but all she could see was Jack’s body, and his erection. Her face flashed hot. “Don’t even think about it. We used up all the condoms last night.” She didn’t know a man could do that. They went through a box of six and the one he kept in his wallet. They had more sex in one night than she’d had in the past seven years times two.

  Jack flipped her over like he would a rag doll.

  She dragged her hands through her hair, trying to get it out of her eyes, and found him smiling down at her. “Babe, there are a lot of things we can do that don’t require condoms.”

  “Not when I have to be downstairs in a meeting in forty-five minutes. Besides, you need to leave before Karma and Trish get here.”

  “Why?”

  Was he serious? “Because I’d rather have a meeting that has more to do with business than my sex life.”

  “No problem. I’ll just stay up here until you’re through.”

  Claire pulled a sheet around her and got out of bed, tying it like a toga. He might feel comfortable running around in the altogether but she certainly didn’t. It was one thing to be naked while in the throes of passion. In the morning light—not so much. “Just because I don’t have to work in the shop today doesn’t mean I don’t have work to do. There’s a difference.”

  He followed her out of bed, wrapped his arms around her waist while tugging the sheet lower, and kissed her shoulder. “Come on, Mary Claire, take the morning off and come skiing with me.”

  “I can’t.” She couldn’t even if she wanted to. “This is a busy time for me. I have commissions that have to be done before Christmas.” She pulled away from him. She really needed to get ready, and he needed to leave or she’d never hear the end of it.

  “Are you going to shower?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the bathroom. “We’ll talk about our next date while we shower.”

  “Together?”

  “I’m into water conservation.” He walked naked to the shower and started the water.

  “How convenient.” She checked her phone and texted Trish. “Bring Starbucks, please.” Because of Jack, she wasn’t going to have time to make coffee.

  He leaned out of the bathroom. “Are you coming?”

  Not yet, but between the naughty look on his face and his unabashed erection, she had a feeling she would be before getting out of the shower. God help her.

  Jack tossed the empty Starbucks cup into a box of trash. He looked around his father’s home. The place had always been depressing, but at Christmas it was even more so. He sat at the desk and went back to work on the spreadsheets. He’d always known his father was an asshole. He’d just never realized he was a fucking thief, too. Even seeing the proof with his own eyes, Jack still had a hard time believing his dad was capable of cheating his own best friend out of millions.

  Now that Trapper and a team of forensic accountants confirmed Jack’s suspicion, he would do all that he could to even the scales. It would never make up for the past, but it was the only thing he could come up with to right his old man’s wrongs. Thinking about everything just led his thoughts right back to the one woman he had been doing his damnedest not to think about. Hell, who was he kidding? He might have grown up, but he hadn’t outgrown his fascination for her. If anything, it had gotten worse. Especially since the once-mutual fascination now seemed to be one-sided.

  He’d spent the morning watching Mary Claire sleep, draped over him, her wild hair curled across his chest, and thinking about what a fool he’d been to let her go. In the early morning light, after too much sex and not nearly enough sleep, his mind definitely ventured down a path he had no business exploring. Matrimony.

  Then her alarm went off, her eyes opened, and as soon as the realization hit, so did her wariness and panic. He had no explanation for the wariness, but he’d figured out the reason she was panicked—the fact her friends might find out he’d spent the night.

  Jack had been a lot of things to a lot of women, but one role he’d no experience playing was the dirty little secret.

  Now, to further complicate things, instead of Mary Claire just being an ex-girlfriend with whom he was having a hot but temporary affair, it looked like she would soon become his business partner.

  He groaned and picked up the phone to call Trapper.

  “Hey, Jack. What did you decide?”

  “Tell the accountants to work out a hard number for what my father should have paid when he bought Sam Coleman out of Coleman Bennett.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  Jack ignored the protective tone he heard in Trapper’s voice. The fact that Trapper thought Mary Claire needed protecting from him was as understandable as it was ludicrous. “I’m going to do what’s right. It won’t make up for the past, but when it comes down to it, there’s nothing I can do to pay for the hell my father put Mary Claire and her family through.”

  “You aren’t responsible for your father’s actions.”

  “Have the accountants work their magic. We need to look at the amount my father stole from Sam as a percentage of ownership in Coleman Bennett Auto Salvage, and take into account all the monies my father took out of the business, and come up with a number. I need to know her percentage of ownership and a dollar value.”

  “They’re already on that. What are you going to tell Mary Claire?”

  “The truth.”

  “And what are you going to do with the company?”

  “I’ll probably sell it.” Then he’d give Mary Claire her share of the profit and go back to his life in Germany.

  “If Mary Claire has part ownership, shouldn’t she be involved in making the decision about what to do with the company?”

  “I still have controlling interest, don’t I?”

  “Jack, I’m no ex
pert, but considering the amount of money your father took out of the business, it’s nothing we’ll know for sure until we hear from the team of accountants.”

  “Shit.” He looked out the window of his father’s home office at the view of downtown Boise from the foothills and wished to hell he didn’t have to confess the whole thing to Mary Claire. He wished he could just hand her a check, give her a kiss good-bye, and hightail it out of the country, leaving the familial skeletons locked firmly in the closet.

  “When are you going to tell her?”

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem real keen on seeing me again.”

  “I thought you took her out last night.”

  “I did.”

  “The date didn’t go well?”

  “What’s it to you?” The fact she offered him Trapper’s wine just chapped his ass.

  “Claire is a friend. A good friend. And just so you know, me and my brothers are the kind of friends who would gladly kick your ass if you hurt her.”

  “Mary Claire doesn’t need protection from me, that’s for sure.” After this morning, if anyone was going to end up with tire tracks on his heart, he had a bad feeling it was going to be him. With or without Mary Claire’s help, he’d fallen right back in love with her, and damned if he didn’t wonder if he ever really stopped. Leaving her would hurt regardless, but her pushing him away would be worse.

  “She needs to know. The sooner the better.”

  “I’ll tell her.” He wasn’t a coward. “I’m just not looking forward to explaining my father’s part in destroying her family. I don’t want to upset her.”

  “She should be happy. The woman stands to come into a hell of a lot of money.”

  “Yeah, the money is the easy part. It’s the emotions attached to it that will be hard to deal with. It makes a person second-guess the past.”

  “Come on, Claire’s not that way.”

  “Trapper, what would have happened if her father had the money when he needed it? Her mother had cancer and no insurance. Could her mother’s life have been saved? I don’t think so, but then what the hell do I know about it? It would be only natural for Mary Claire to think about how her life and her father’s would have been easier if they’d had the money my father stole from them. It would be only natural for Mary Claire to blame the person left holding the bag. Me.”