The spark grew bigger.
“Remember how I said my life was a big ball of stress?”
He nodded.
“Well, the ball is bigger now. It’s huge, actually. It’s ginormous.” Her eyes took on a slightly wild glint. “I’m close to freaking out and I don’t have time to freak out right now, okay? I need to relax. Just a teeny, tiny bit of relaxation, a few hours where I don’t have to think about anything but me.”
The spark caught flame and burned a path straight to his dick.
“So please, don’t come to the club tonight. Stay here, work out, do your hair, I don’t care. But when I get home later?” Her chin lifted in fortitude. “You’ll be lying in your bed waiting for me. You’ll be naked, you’ll have protection handy, and you’re going to fuck me.”
10
This was a mistake. A big fucking mistake.
Whatever, man, you need a place to stay, Aidan’s got a spare room, end of story.
“Bull-fucking-shit,” Dylan muttered.
Wow. He was actually calling bullshit on himself. That was beyond messed up. Yet even though he knew his reasons for coming here tonight were bogus as hell, he couldn’t seem to talk himself out of it.
So here he was, standing in the expensive, brightly lit lobby of Aidan’s condo, waiting to be buzzed up. Miranda had dropped him off on her way to the club, though neither of them said much during the ride over. She’d clearly had something on her mind—something named Seth, no doubt—but Dylan hadn’t pushed her to talk. She hadn’t tried to force conversation either, which he appreciated.
Comfortable silence was so hard to come by these days, and this one had allowed him to mull over the remark Aidan had made earlier. When Dylan called asking if the offer to crash at his place was still on the table, Aidan had told him to come by whenever. He’d then added, “I’m having a chick over for dinner, but she’s always down for some variety, so if you want to join us…”
A three-way? Had Aidan been inviting him to a three-way? But why? The two of them were definitely more than acquaintances, but they weren’t quite best buds, either. In fact, the other night was the first time they’d ever been alone.
The other night… Fuck, it had been the alcohol. Had to be the alcohol. And the aborted BJ hadn’t helped either.
“Hey, Wade, come on up.” Aidan’s deep voice emerged from the intercom, and then the glass doors buzzed.
Slinging his duffel over his shoulder, Dylan strode to the elevator bank and punched the Up button. A few moments later, the doors dinged open and he stepped into the car, riding it up to the fifteenth floor. Walking on the clean, cream-colored carpet with his scuffed up shitkickers felt wrong, so he practically sprinted to Aidan’s door, which swung open before he could even knock.
Aidan greeted him with a dimpled grin, and Dylan was struck by how damn good-looking he was. Kinda resembled a young Johnny Depp, except with the body of an action star.
“Come in. Lani and I just finished dinner. We were about to have a drink on the terrace.” Aidan opened the door wider to let him in.
Dylan toed off his boots and left them on the mat in the front hall, then followed Aidan into the living room, where Aidan’s date was waiting. She was a stunning woman, looked to be of Polynesian descent, with smooth luminous skin and long, jet-black hair.
She smiled when she spotted Dylan. “Hello,” she said in a soft voice.
“Lani, this is Dylan. He’s staying with me this week.” Aidan turned to Dylan. “Lani just moved here from Honolulu.”
“Hawaiian, huh?” He offered her a warm smile. “How are you liking San Diego?”
“It’s beautiful. And the people are so nice.” Her dark eyes twinkled in Aidan’s direction.
Dylan noticed the remnants of the couple’s dinner on the glass table across the room—plates, wine glasses, candlewicks releasing wisps of smoke as if they’d just been put out.
“I should probably get out of your hair,” he said ruefully. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your date.”
But neither Aidan nor Lani acted as if his presence inconvenienced them. In fact, the beautiful Hawaiian just smiled again and said, “You can stay if you want. Have a drink with us.”
Indecision flashed through him. Shit. He wanted to stay. He wanted to have a drink with them. But if he did, he knew exactly where this would all lead—straight to the bedroom. And while normally he wouldn’t bat an eye at the notion of a threesome, indulging with this particular man probably wasn’t the most intelligent move. After his reaction to Aidan the other night, he was a touch worried that he might not be able to control himself if they somehow wound up naked together.
“It’s a tempting offer, but I’m gonna have to pass,” he told them. “I have to make a few phone calls—my older brother just got engaged. And I need to be up at dawn tomorrow, so I can’t stay up late tonight.”
Was that a glimmer of disappointment he saw in Aidan’s eyes?
Nah, wishful thinking, maybe.
“Well, make yourself at home.” Aidan joined Lani on the leather couch and slung one muscular arm over her slender shoulder. “You need a ride tomorrow morning?”
“No, that’s cool. Cash is picking me up.”
He bid them good night and headed for the guest room, where he dropped his duffel on the hardwood floor and released a long breath. After a beat, he dug his phone from his pocket and sank on the double bed in the middle of the room. The bedframe was a dark oak, the mattress a perfect combination of hard and soft. Dylan made himself comfortable as he dialed his mom’s number.
She picked up on the second ring, sounding delighted to hear from him. “Honey! Did you get my message?” Shanna Wade chirped.
An indulgent smile crossed his mouth. “That’s why I’m calling. So, you’re pretty stoked about this engagement, huh?”
“I’m thrilled about it! Claire is going to make your brother such a wonderful wife.”
He held back a snort.
“Beautiful, smart, successful. And that girl is so very sweet,” Shanna babbled on. “Did I tell you she came by with chicken noodle soup when I was sick last week?”
Yeah, probably because she had an ulterior motive of some sort, Dylan almost replied. He also didn’t mention that he suspected Claire had zero respect for his mom, which she’d broadcasted loud and clear during that last visit by scoffing at Dylan’s insistence that “homemaker” absolutely counted as a real job. Shanna Wade had been a stay-at-home wife and mother for more than half of Dylan’s life, but clearly Claire McKinley didn’t think that counted as work.
“Claire’s a real sweetheart, all right,” he said lightly, hoping his mom wouldn’t pick up on the distaste in his voice.
“Your brother told me you agreed to be his best man.”
“I did. I’m looking forward to it. I’ve never planned a bachelor party before…”
“Don’t you dare get your brother a stripper!” Shanna said in outrage.
He laughed. “Relax, Mom. I won’t.” Nah, he definitely wouldn’t get a stripper. More like many strippers. But his mother didn’t need to know that.
As his mom continued to chat about the upcoming wedding, Dylan got distracted by the sound of muffled footsteps in the hall, followed by a door opening and closing. When he heard soft feminine laughter and a low male murmur, he realized that for all the pomp and circumstance of this condo, the walls were pretty thin.
It wasn’t until twenty minutes later, after he’d hung up with his mom and was getting ready to crash, that he realized just how thin those damn walls were.
Thump-thump-thump.
Thump-thump-thump.
Thump-thump-thump.
The unmistakable rhythm of a headboard banging against the wall sent an ambush of raunchy images to his brain. Aidan was probably working Lani over real good—his trim hips pistoning, ass flexing with each deep thrust. Or maybe Lani was doing some riding, impaled on Aidan’s cock, her long fingernails digging into his sculpted abdomen.
Saliva pooled in Dylan’s mouth. He nearly groaned out loud. Managed to swallow the agonized sound, but controlling the erection that sprang up was impossible. It was official. Coming here had been a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.
But there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He’d already given up his room to Miranda; he’d be a total ass if he suddenly demanded it back. And if he went home anyway and tried to sleep on the couch, there was no doubt in his mind that Miranda would drag him back to his room and revert to bunking on that tiny bed with her kids.
So going home was not an option. He supposed he could crash at Jackson’s place in Imperial Beach, but hopping from one guest room to another seemed kind of ridiculous. Might as well suck it up and stay here at Aidan’s place.
It was only for a week. Surely he could refrain from doing something stupid for the next seven days. Granted, the nonstupid course of action would’ve been to not come here in the first place, but he’d already made his bed, and now he had to lie in it.
Another forbidden image flew into his head.
He quickly shot it down with a mental rifle and banished it from thought.
Alone. He’d be lying in the bed he’d made—alone.
* * *
Was she really going to do this?
Miranda killed the engine but couldn’t bring herself to get out of the car. She stared at the pale light shining through the gauzy white curtains of Seth’s living room window. Kim was probably in there, doing homework or watching TV. And Seth…well, he was probably waiting for her in his bedroom.
Naked.
With condoms handy.
Ready to fuck her.
Miranda’s cheeks scorched. Gosh, had she actually said all that?
She wondered if it was too late to change her mind, but at the same time, she wasn’t sure she wanted to. Why couldn’t she sleep with Seth? She hadn’t had sex in seven years. Seven years. Didn’t she owe it to herself to get laid? She wasn’t a nun, for Pete’s sake, and a girl did have urges, after all.
But was Seth Masterson the right man to satisfy those urges? Physically, definitely. She was attracted to him like nobody’s business, and there was no challenging his ability to turn her on—she’d almost orgasmed simply from his touching her breasts. But seven years of celibacy was a long time. Shouldn’t she ease herself back into the whole sex thing with someone who wasn’t so… overwhelming? Dip her toe in the shallow end instead of diving into the deep end right off the bat?
She ran a hand through her hair and released a disgusted breath. Okay. Enough second-guessing. Really, there was only one question of any importance here, one question she always asked herself before she made any life-altering decisions: Will this hurt my kids?
She’d posed that same inquiry when deciding whether to leave Vegas, and now she applied it to Seth. To sex with Seth.
Would her sleeping with him hurt Sophie and Jason?
No. How could it? If she was dating Seth, that would be a different story. She wasn’t an idiot—she saw the way he acted around her kids. Uncomfortable, curt, tense. He’d tried toning down those reactions after she’d asked him to be nicer to the twins, but she still sensed his reluctance to interact with them.
She knew the kids sensed it too, but, ironically, Seth’s aloofness only seemed to strengthen her children’s determination to win him over. She didn’t understand it. Normally Sophie and Jason hated being around folks who didn’t want to spend time with them. With Seth, they were on him every second, each trying to earn his approval in their own way—Jason with his endless questions, and Sophie with her smart-aleck remarks.
Unfortunately, neither approach had succeeded in wearing Seth down.
But that wasn’t the issue. The question was—would a sexual involvement with Seth hurt her children? As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t bring herself to answer yes to that. As long as she and Seth exercised some discretion, the twins wouldn’t even have to know they were involved, which meant there was no reason to hold back.
No reason to keep resisting.
Drawing in a deep breath, she slid out of the car and headed for the house.
Five minutes later, after she’d walked Kim out and locked up, Miranda drifted into the guest room to check on the twins. They were sleeping soundly, and neither so much as stirred when she fixed their blanket and planted soft kisses on their foreheads.
Quietly shutting the door behind her, she cast a quick look at Seth’s closed bedroom door, then bypassed it on her way to Dylan’s room. She still couldn’t believe he’d given up his bedroom for her, but it didn’t surprise her in the least. Dylan was truly a stand-up guy. Great with kids too—Seth could definitely take a lesson or two from his roommate.
But although it bugged her that he didn’t seem to be warming up to the twins, Miranda knew she couldn’t be angry with him for it. He wasn’t auditioning for the role of Sophie and Jason’s father, and she couldn’t expect him to love her kids just because she happened to think they were awesome.
She entered the master bedroom with purposeful steps, pausing to admire the four-poster, king-sized bed that dominated the large space. Her gaze drifted to the door of the private bath, and she had to wonder if Dylan and Seth had drawn straws to decide which one of them would get this room.
When she stepped into the bathroom, she found it as clean as the rest of the house. Okay, it had to be a military thing, because she’d never met a tidier pair of men.
She turned on the shower, stripped and stepped into the tub. The warm water felt like heaven on her sore shoulders and she moaned softly, longing for the day when she could quit her job at the club and just focus on running All That Dance. Soon. Soon the school would do more than break even, and she’d be able to support her kids without spending four nights a week behind a bar counter.
Miranda stayed in the shower for longer than necessary. Washed her hair, shaved her legs, lathered up with the vanilla body wash she’d brought over from the apartment earlier today. Her skin was pink and pruny by the time she stepped onto the fluffy blue bath mat.
In the bedroom, she simply stood there in her towel, chewing on her bottom lip. Should she even bother getting dressed? She’d be naked again soon enough.
The thought sent a shiver dancing up her spine.
What if one of the twins wakes up and needs you?
The mom in her raised a valid point. She quickly rummaged through the duffel bag full of the clothes she’d packed up over at her place. She found an oversized red T-shirt and slipped it over her head, then dug out her hairbrush from her toiletry kit and ran it through her hair a few times. Then, straightening her shoulders, she walked out of the room.
She took several deep breaths and assured herself she was doing the right thing. Urges, dammit. A girl had urges.
When she reached Seth’s door, she knocked ever so softly. His gruff response came a second later. “Come in.”
Swallowing, she turned the doorknob and entered his bedroom.
Oh sweet mother of God.
Her entire body burned as if she’d stepped into a five-alarm fire. The light spilling from the small bedside lamp revealed a very naked Seth lying on the bed. His dark head was cushioned by a couple of pillows, and a hardcover novel whose title she couldn’t make out sat on the bedspread next to him.
Her gaze grew frantic, unable to focus on any one detail—there were too many that required her attention. Like his spectacular chest. Lord, that chest. Tight six-pack, perfectly sculpted pecs, a light dusting of hair that arrowed down to his…Oh God, she couldn’t even look at it right now, not unless she wanted to self-combust. She focused on his long, muscular legs instead, the intricate design of yet another geometric-looking tattoo on his right shin.
Every inch of her tingled, pulsed, vibrated with pure, raw need. She lifted her gaze to Seth’s, unsurprised by the mocking glitter she saw there.
“I’m naked, Miranda.” His voice was a sexy, dangerous rasp. “I’ve got protection.” H
e waved a hand at the end table, where a box of condoms sat innocently, waiting to be opened. “So now give me the word, and…”
She sucked in a wobbly breath. “And what?”
“I’ll fulfill the last part of your request.”
Oh yes, he would. And she got the feeling fulfilled was exactly the right word. After avoiding it for this long, she finally let her gaze rest on the heavy erection between his legs. He was big. Thick, uncut and deliciously hard.
Her breath hitched when he suddenly wrapped his fingers around the cock she’d been admiring and gave it a sharp tug.
She moaned. Out loud. Eliciting a smug smirk from him.
“Everything okay?” he asked casually.
Without answering, she reached for the hem of her shirt, bunched the fabric between her fingers and pulled the garment up and over her head. Leaving her as naked as he was. Leaving her vulnerable. Exposed.
His sharp intake of breath was encouraging. So was the way his eyes smoldered as they roamed her body.
She knew she was in great shape—dancing five days a week guaranteed it—but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel self-conscious. The last man to see her naked had been Trent, and that was seven long years ago. She’d had an eighteen-year-old’s body back then, not nearly as curvy as she was now, and the four-inch Cesarean scar running horizontal to the top of her pubic area hadn’t been there before, either.
“Just the way I imagined you,” Seth murmured.
She gulped. “What way was that?”
“Beautiful. Fucking beautiful.”
Her cheeks heated with pleasure rather than embarrassment. The compliment fueled her confidence and gave her the courage to approach him. Her heart began to pound, legs trembling a little as she reached the side of the bed.
He slid up higher, set his book on the table, and held out his hand. An unspoken question flickered in his expression.
She stared at his outstretched palm.
Now or never, Miranda.
Ignoring the nervous butterflies fluttering around in her belly, she took his hand and allowed him to draw her into his lap. She instinctively straddled him, whimpering when the tip of his cock brushed the top of her mound.
Out of Uniform Box Set: Books 4-6 plus 2 Bonus Novellas Page 12
