by Cari Quinn
“Piece of evidence number two. You have straw in your hair.” Charli pulled it out of Paige’s hair and held it up.
To Paige, it might as well have been a bloody glove.
“Oh. Oh well. Um, see—”
“You’re not going to give me an excuse, are you? Because that would really suck.”
Paige tightened her hold on the strap of her tote bag. “No. Of course not. I don’t owe you an excuse. You’re not my mother, and I didn’t miss curfew.”
The hurt that scrolled across Charli’s face immediately made her backtrack. “Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t want to fight. But I don’t want to feel guilty either, not when I’m happy for the first time in a—” She stopped and shook her head, laughing softly. “I was going to say a long time, but you know what? That would be a lie. I’ve never been this happy before. Not even when I was too young to know I’d probably get my heart broken.”
Charli frowned. “Look, there’s no delicate way to say this.”
Paige braced. Did Charli know something she didn’t? That maybe Drake and Colt were doing this with other women while they were with her, maybe? She hadn’t heard anything in town, but it was possible. Of course it was possible. She didn’t think it was likely, considering the amount of time they’d spent with her for the last couple of weeks, but her radar for such things probably didn’t work too well. Nuns had as active a social life as she had the last few years.
“Go ahead.” Paige pulled her tote bag in front of her stomach like a shield. At least she’d changed out of Drake’s shirt after the ride on Misty. Wearing his smell while she got her heart filleted would be a particular kind of hell. “You don’t have to be delicate.”
“Colt and Drake, well, this isn’t the first time they’ve done this with a woman.”
Here it came. “Okay. Keep going.”
Charli frowned. “Did you hear me? Ménages, they’re kind of their thing. They get a woman and they…they share her.”
“You mean, like, permanently? Like move her in or something?”
So much for her wayward thoughts that morning about how big their place was. Maybe they’d picked out that setup by design. Gotta have room for the chick, right? Though she’d never heard of anything like that going on. Colt and Drake were single more often than not.
Jeez, she really needed to look up from her ledgers now and then.
“What? No. No, of course not.”
“Are you saying you’ve heard they’re doing this with someone else besides me right now?”
Charli’s forehead wrinkled. “No. I’m not saying that either.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I already said it. They like to share a woman between them. They’ve picked up women before and had a wild weekend and everyone in town knows.” Charli crossed her arms and lifted her chin. “I can’t believe you didn’t, but it’s understandable, I guess. You’re not experienced when it comes to—”
“Hold it. Back that truck up, sister. I think you just made a wrong turn.”
“Excuse me?”
“Excuse you is right. I thought I was your best friend.”
Charli stepped forward, but Paige’s held-up hand stopped her in her tracks. “You are. Of course you are. This…whatever this blip is, won’t change that.”
“Because of course it’s just a blip. Just a chance to sharpen my fucking skills for my future husband, right?”
“Well, what else could it be? Did you hear anything I’ve said this week? I spelled it out for you on Monday. They’re going to use you and—”
“No. No, you are not saying that again. The first time, I let you, because you have a right to be mad at me and say a few hurtful things. But you don’t have a right to turn what’s going on between us into something cheap because it suits your worldview.”
Charli’s dark eyes flashed. “Okay, so what, you’re sitting around at night reading the Bible?”
Paige turned away and set down her tote. Then she braced her hands on the counter.
She wasn’t going to cry. Nope. Not happening. She was not some weepy schoolgirl. She was a grown woman who was going to answer the question the best way she could.
“Is it cheap between you and your husband?” she asked quietly. “When you’re with him, do you feel like you’re doing something wrong?”
“No. Of course not. But it isn’t the same.”
“No, it’s not the same. I wasn’t married to Colt’s brother.”
Charli’s indrawn breath made Paige turn and face the results of what she’d said. She needed to see that pain on her face and remember why words said in anger were never the right ones. Even if she was at her wit’s end and sad and scared and a million other things she hadn’t been just twenty minutes ago when she walked in that door. That didn’t give her cause to wound someone she loved.
She hoped Charli would reach the same conclusion once she had some time to think.
“It’s not just about sex with us,” Paige murmured. “I know you can’t understand that. To be honest, I don’t really either. I wasn’t raised to think that maybe two guys waited at the end of my rainbow. For a long time, I didn’t even think I’d get a rainbow, never mind the pot of gold.”
Charli’s eyes filled with tears. “Paige—”
“Hang on. Let me finish. Please.”
Charli nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I’m not the same me I was before your wedding. Oh, I look the same. It’s only been a few weeks, so of course I do. But in here,” she rubbed her chest, “something’s changed. They got me to look at myself in a mirror last night. They tell me I’m beautiful. And they’re not lying. They really think it. Hell, maybe they’re even starting to convince me they may be right.” She let out a weak laugh. “If they’re crazy, I’m not going to tell them.”
Charli moved forward to cup her cheeks. “You are beautiful, and bright, and so sweet and funny that I’m not surprised they’re drawn to you. Who wouldn’t be?”
Paige squeezed her hands and moved back. She appreciated the gesture, but she wasn’t quite ready to be touched yet. Not when she’d gone so cold inside and no amount of words seemed to be enough to warm her up.
“Drawn to. That’s all they could be, right?” She pushed her hands through her hair and pulled out another piece of straw. Side effect of being talked into the hay loft in the stables for a super fast quickie after their morning ride. “What if it’s more, Charli?”
Her best friend didn’t reply, giving her all the answer she needed.
It can’t be more. Not with them. Not with them and you.
She tossed the straw in the trash, picked up her tote bag, and went out to the front to get to work.
* * *
“That’s it, Jenny. Keep your back straight. Knees in,” Colt called across the paddock. The tiny blond eight-year-old did as he said and he smiled. “Great work. Your form’s already improving. Miss Emmy will be here if you have any questions for the next few minutes, okay?” He glanced at Jenny’s mother, standing beside him at the fence. “I just need to run in and grab a drink. This heat is killing me. Be right back.”
“Oh, no worries. Jenny’s doing great, isn’t she?”
“She is.” His smile grew as he studied one of his newest students. “She’s a natural.” He glanced at her mother. He’d gone to high school with Rita Whittaker—Johnson back then—what felt like a lifetime ago. They’d never talked much, but in a small town, you knew everybody.
And everybody knew you, for good or bad.
“You know, you should give lessons a whirl sometime,” he said. “See if the talent runs in the genes.”
“Oh, Colton. You’re too kind. But then your kind of special attention is exactly why I signed Jenny up for lessons here.” Rita laughed and patted her hair. The white strip around the fourth finger of her left hand reminded him all too well that she was newly divorced.
Danger, Colt Bennett. Abort flirting. Abort flirting now.
<
br /> He hadn’t even really been flirting. Not exactly. It was second nature to him and meant less than nothing. It wasn’t as if he was trying to score a hookup. He enjoyed making women feel good even if he never saw them again. Plenty of people thought that made him a player, but his most common form of “playing” simply consisted of giving a woman an extra boost.
Because he’d given them a little special attention. Jesus.
“Yes, well, think about lessons, okay? I’m going in for that drink now. Would you like anything?”
“No, I’m nice and wet.” She giggled. “My mouth, I mean.”
Oh Lord. This one didn’t need a boost. She’d obviously come pre-boosted.
“All right then. Be back soon.”
She gave him a little smile and a wink. “I’ll wait right here for you.”
He didn’t smile back. The last thing he wanted to do was lead her on. He was involved—very much involved—with two people he truly cared about. Word spread like wildfire in small towns, and he’d be damned if he did anything to light a match. With his reputation as a ladies’ man, it wouldn’t take much.
Crossing the lawn to the back steps of the ranch, he waved to a few of the stablehands and a new couple who’d brought their five-year-old to start lessons. They had a separate smaller building for the horse training business, though it was mainly used for office space and to meet with new clients. More often than not, they were informal enough to invite people into their kitchen to get a drink or snack. Quinn wasn’t the usual town. The people there were some of the best that could be found, if he said so himself.
But sometimes that closeness was the very thing to tighten a noose around someone’s neck.
The curse of trying to change things up, he supposed as he opened the back door and headed into the kitchen. Status quo was no longer good enough.
He opened the refrigerator and pulled out the jug of fresh lemonade Miss Emmy had made that morning. It was hot as blazes outside, close to ninety-five. So much for fall. He poured a glass and took a long drink, then gave in to the urge to roll up his T-shirt to rub the cold glass over his stomach. A groan slipped out and he glanced up to see Drake watching him from the doorway, his expression unreadable.
Colt’s groin tightened. There was no other way to describe it. He didn’t immediately start getting hard like he would’ve had Paige been standing there, but his nerve endings fired and his cock definitely woke up.
It was just because Drake was a reminder of everything they’d shared with Paige. How could he not be?
Another memory stirred, one equally fresh. Drake on his knees in front of him, taking his erection in his mouth. Cupping his balls, staring him down, demanding he come though he never spoke a single goddamned word.
Like right now.
Colt turned away. He started to speak, to play it off as if this was any other day. Nothing had changed. They were business partners and best friends. They’d been friends since his NFL days, when a late-night drinking binge and a random meet at a local bar had left them trading football stats and stories about women. A few months later, when Colt had been cut from the NFL and talked of moving back home to start some kind of business working with horses, Drake had immediately offered to move back with him. He wasn’t happy in North Carolina, and he had relatives in Texas. He’d always loved horses. They were both at loose ends, so why not?
Why the fuck not.
Friendship had grown to deep trust to love. Of course he loved the guy. But he wasn’t in love with him. That would be a whole different ballgame.
“Colt. Look at me.”
He gripped the glass and shut his eyes. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Enough of his life was in flux already. He’d just begun to finally, finally accept he had another identity except as the one-time football star. To move on from Charli and the divorce and the whole situation with Wade. To stop mindlessly sleeping with just anyone, because at least he could be a good-time Charlie if he couldn’t be anyone else.
If something this fundamental changed too, he’d have no bedrock left to stand on. He’d have no idea who he was looking at in the mirror anymore.
Paige faced her reflection. It’s time you do the same.
“Fuck it.” Colt slammed the glass on the table, nearly upending it. He stalked to Drake and grabbed his jaw, gripping his face with all of the rage and frustration and arousal he couldn’t fight any longer. It had always been there, simmering in the background like a forest fire he’d never been able to fully extinguish.
And now it could finally reign. No holding back.
His mouth slanted hungrily over Drake’s, their tongues slashing and dueling for control. Hard, hot and fast, it might as well have been fucking. There was no time to breathe. No room for gentleness. Only hunger and need.
His fingers dug into the back of Drake’s neck, the short hair there tickling his knuckles as he turned his head and plunged deeper. He couldn’t take enough. It had been too long in coming. His dick bumped against his zipper, rigid and insistent. He knew Drake could feel it against his own stiff shaft because he moaned, the sound slicing through Colt from skin to bone.
“Upstairs.”
Did Drake say it or had he? The word echoed in his head, competing with all the reasons they couldn’t. He had a student. She was in the middle of a lesson. Miss Emmy was more than capable of finishing it, and she was outside helping out anyway.
This wouldn’t take long. Ten minutes, maybe. Five if the urgent heat inside him was any indication. Maybe three.
Goddamn, he needed to fuck. To know.
He grabbed Drake’s belt buckle and shoved him backward, driving him toward the stairs. Their mouths grappled as they scrambled up the stairs, unwilling to break the kiss for even a second. He dragged at Drake’s buckle, at his zipper, so crazed to feel flesh he probably could’ve rent the denim without much effort.
The first scrape of his fingers over hot skin made Drake tremble against him, and he felt like a frigging superhero. If he could arouse a big strong man like Drake, he could do anything. Be anything.
At the top of the stairs, he hesitated. His room or Drake’s?
They always used Drake’s room. Always. No one had been invited into his room since he’d moved in some months ago after he’d moved out of one of the outbuildings at his parents’ place. It hadn’t been a formal decision to keep guests away or anything. He just hadn’t been ready to have anyone there.
Apparently he took too long to decide because Drake dragged him toward his room. He kicked open the door and pushed him inside, slamming him against the wall and attacking his mouth. Clothes disappeared at a rate of speed that defied logic. It shouldn’t have taken seconds for both of them to shed belts, jeans, boxers, shirts and boots. In an instant, Colt reversed their positions and backed Drake up to the bed he’d made up so tidily after that morning’s exertions. Colt tore back the spread and toppled them onto the mattress, seizing his hands and spreading them out at his sides.
Wanting, needing him to take what he gave, even if he didn’t quite know what the fuck he was doing.
“It’s okay.” Drake’s fingers flexed in his hold but he didn’t make a move to get away. “It’s okay,” he said again as Colt closed his eyes.
Drake leaned up and scraped his teeth down his Adam’s apple, reigniting the pressure in the base of his spine. His cock jerked between them, bumping Drake’s, already leaking pre-cum. His buddy lifted his hips, grinding them together, making the friction into something blinding. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think. There wasn’t any wrong or right. There was just this, and doing what came naturally.
He backed up and grabbed the lube and a condom out of the bedside table. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t take a full breath. Just like last night, when Drake and Paige had jointly blown him. Except this was even more.
Paige. He steadied, remembering the acceptance there when she’d turned her face against his thigh and Drake had sucked him to completion. She would understand.
<
br /> God, he needed someone to understand. He needed to understand himself.
“Colt.”
Drake’s voice lured him back to the bed and the unfinished task in front of him. His cock bobbed at seeing his best friend waiting for him on his belly. His strong arms and legs braced for whatever came. Acceptance or rejection, all over again.
Colt swallowed hard and rolled on the condom, drizzling the latex with lube. Then he reached out with tentative fingers, tracing that shadow between Drake’s cheeks, spreading the lube there to pave the way. Drake bit down on his inner arm, leaving behind marks that only made Colt harder. Those should be his marks. His brand on Drake’s skin. He wanted to imprint himself on him, leave something behind. A reminder that for once, for fucking once, he’d allowed himself to see.
He squeezed out more lube, pressing harder into that shadowy indent. It sucked at his finger, at two fingers when he tested the flesh. Drake didn’t balk. The muscles in his ass and back of his legs tensed, so strong but trembling at the force of Colt’s fingers driving in and out. Tight. So tight. Like a pussy clenching, but with so much more force. He’d fucked women in the ass before, but this was different.
Everything was different now.
He bent to bite the back of Drake’s neck, offering that sting of pain they both craved while he inserted another finger and pleasured him harder, faster. The slick slide of skin against skin was maddening. They were both sweating, both flushed and full to bursting. His cock trailed wetness over his buddy’s back, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. Even being on top of Drake like this was enough to make him blow.
His fingers flexed, pressing against that spot that he knew would come damn close to setting him off. Drake groaned and clutched the sheets, his knuckles going white as he strained beneath Colt and tried to bear his onslaught without losing it.
Not going to happen.
Colt drew his hand away and gripped his cock, positioning it just outside the snug ring of muscle. He didn’t close his eyes. Drake’s back undulated, the muscles bunching and shifting while he waited for him to move.
