Addiction

by Calista Fox

  He excited the hell out of her with his confidence, his virility. Her toes pressed into the hardwood floor as more ribbons of delight tickled her senseless and sparked an effervescence that lightened her heart and soul.

  God, how she’d needed everything Nate had just given her!

  And she was even more pleased that he seemed to be in no particular hurry to unravel from her. His mouth was on her neck again, his soft lips leaving feathery kisses.

  He told her, “I have a hell of a time keeping it together when we’re like this. You naked does the craziest damn things to me.”

  “I like how you don’t hold back,” she said. “You know exactly how I want you.”

  “And I like how you can handle anything I give you.”

  “That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”

  He chuckled. “So adventuresome. That’s a huge turn-on.”

  He kissed her temple, then withdrew from her and ducked into the bathroom. She watched him over her shoulder, sneaking a peek at his retreating backside. The man had a killer ass.

  Her teeth sank into her lower lip. She’d thanked her lucky stars Nate and Tristan were in town for the wedding and serving as her escorts. But the chemistry the three experienced was even more titillating.

  Liv had never sparked so intensely with anyone else. She’d never wanted other men as much as she’d wanted the two of them since their first time together.

  Perhaps she’d been attracted to Nate and Tristan even before that.

  Long before they’d turned into gladiators from their rigorous workouts, they’d intrigued Liv with their intellect. Granted, she could never represent herself as being cerebrally inclined—she’d needed Fallon to help her through Chemistry, Nate to tutor her in Algebra, and Tristan to decipher Shakespeare for her. But Nate and Tristan had always fascinated her with their clever minds and quick wit. Apparently, she was still deeply entranced . . .

  As she dragged on her panties and capris, then slipped into her sandals, she considered that a quick, explosive romp with Nate was but a temporary fix for her addiction. There’d been an immediate yearning between them, but Liv would be fooling herself if she said her lust for Nate had been sated by a few decadent orgasms.

  She grabbed a fresh white tank top and Oxford from hangers on the clothes rack in the corner and was just putting them on when Nate returned from the restroom and propped a shoulder against the doorframe.

  Liv’s pulse jumped. He really didn’t have to be bare chested and recently sexed-up to be so damn irresistible. She’d been trapped in the vortex he’d created when they’d been at the yacht club—he’d been fully clothed then, and still so unbelievably arousing. That arousal had been multiplied by Tristan’s presence. A fact she couldn’t overlook.

  She collected Nate’s shirt and handed it to him. Not that she was rushing him to cover up. Oh, hell no.

  Her stomach fluttered as she took him in from head to toe, her gaze mostly stuck on his abs, his chest . . . every sculpted, exposed inch of him.

  Her voice was faint as she said, “You’re positively mouthwatering. I seriously could spend hour upon hour worshipping this body.” She took a step, closing the gap between them. “It’s next to impossible to keep my hands off you.”

  Her fingertips slid over his midsection.

  “Notice I don’t mind.”

  Liv gazed up at him. “I was on the phone with Tristan the other day. We started to talk about what happened in Paris. But . . . I don’t know . . . Maybe it’s a conversation the three of us should have together.”

  “You’ve never wanted to discuss it.”

  “Neither have you.” Her hands glided to his pecs. “I’ve always mentally contended that it was sexier to keep it a secret, to let it be a perfect moment in time. But . . . I could also have avoided talking about it with you two because I was a little fearful of how I might have altered your perception of me.”

  “Liv.” His fingers swept through her hair and his thumb hooked under her jaw to keep her staring up at him. “We’d never judge you. Don’t think it for a second. Ever.”

  “I kissed you, Nate. In my hotel room. In front of Tristan. And then I kissed him, because I was dying to know the variations between the two of you. I could say it was the champagne that stole all my inhibitions, but I’ve never been particularly inhibited to begin with. And the fact is I wanted you both. I was eyeing you over the rim of my glass when you sat across the table from me at brunch and all I could think was, ‘goddamn, they’re gorgeous.’” She sighed. “It was more than that, really.”

  A hyperawareness of them she’d never felt before.

  She swallowed hard, then confessed, “I’ve always been captivated by you both. And I didn’t want one of you over the other—I was equally hot for both of you that day. I’m the one who initiated the sex. So it wouldn’t surprise me if you thought I was—”

  “Don’t,” he murmured. His head lowered and his lips tangled with hers, softly, seductively. Then he told her, “Tristan and I wouldn’t change a single thing about Paris. He did, however, say after he’d been on the phone with you just recently that he’d asked you how you felt about Fallon’s situation with Dev and Morgan.”

  She gave a small nod. “I really haven’t put a lot of thought into how it all works. Dev and Morgan are pure alphas, yet they share the same woman. It seems like a lot of emotions would get twisted up.”

  “It’s not a competition. Tristan and I learned that with you.”

  “I’d never been with two men,” she told him. “Not before and certainly not after that night. I trusted you both—I don’t think I would ever be that willing with anyone else. I knew, while it was a bit scandalous, it was safe. Because it was you and Tristan.” She paused, wondering how smart it was to continue this discussion when she clearly hadn’t sorted it all out in her mind.

  “You’ve always been a fantasy, Liv,” Nate said, making his own confession. “For me, for Tristan. Unattainable in so many ways.”

  “That’s not true,” she insisted, her heart constricting. “Fantasies are ethereal entities that exist in your imagination. I’m standing right in front of you, Nate. Very much flesh and blood. And that type of spontaneous combustion we just experienced . . . that’s what Paris was all about. It was unrelenting desire that couldn’t be ignored.” The epiphany came to a screeching halt when she said, “The only problem was that, as always, we immediately went our separate ways.”

  A tinge of pain made her realize that she’d spent a hell of a lot of time saying goodbye to two people who’d meant so much to her from the first days she’d met them.

  “That’s always been inescapable, sweetheart.”

  She did not miss the torment in his voice.

  So maybe she was a fantasy. Because she didn’t possess the ability to stay in one place for long. Except . . . that was all about to change.

  Liv perked up considerably. She said, “You know, there might actually be an opportunity for us all to see each other more frequently.”

  “Tristan and I have batted that around ourselves.” Nate’s expression turned contemplative as he added, “Is that really something you want?”

  Liv wasn’t sure it was sensible to do any wishful thinking, but she had to admit, “I miss you guys. The phone is a shitty substitute for in-person get-togethers.”

  “Agreed.” He kissed her. Leisurely and languidly at first, until Liv was melting into him and all reasonable thought drifted away.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her tight as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to tease hers and set her pulse pounding. She easily got lost in the moment. Felt his erection swell. Knew there was so much more to explore than anything she’d fully allowed herself to consider. Because in the past, there had been no real, viable solution to her friendship with Nate and Tristan.

  But as Nate’s kiss went on and on and her entire body liquefied—and memories of their ménage flashed through her brain—Liv suspecte
d she’d reached the point where she should honestly assess her feelings for these two men. And face the fact that perhaps she’d whittled down her band choices to the New York–based ones for a reason. One that had subconsciously simmered, but which now bubbled to the surface.

  When she finally pulled away from Nate, she was breathless and lightheaded. Tingling from head to toe.

  He grinned cockily. “Nice to see I can steal your breath.”

  “You did more than that. I’m wet again.”

  He groaned. “I’m more than happy to do something about that . . . again.”

  Liv’s blood flowed a bit quicker, warmer. She reached for the button on his jeans just as the chime out front rang.

  “Shit,” she mumbled and jumped back. “That’s Vanessa. She opens the store during the week.”

  “Bad timing for us.”

  “Actually, I have to get a move on,” she hesitantly said. “Still so much to do, starting with getting these boxes over to the bakery. They’re delivering the bubbles with the cake.”

  “I can handle that for you,” Nate said as he slipped into his shirt.

  She smiled at him. “So helpful.” Then she called out, “Hey, Ness, I’m in the back—don’t be startled.”

  “Did you find what you needed?” her friend asked as she rounded the corner. And abruptly drew up short. “Oh! Hi there.”

  Vanessa’s cheeks flushed at the sight of Nate. Not a surprise to Liv. He was certainly her idea of a masterpiece and she suspected every other woman on the planet who had the good fortune to meet him felt the same.

  Liv said, “This is Nate Dalton.” To Nate, she explained, “Vanessa Parks was a senior at the academy when we started our freshmen year.”

  They shook hands. Vanessa all but swooned. “So nice to meet you,” she said. “Um . . . for the first time?”

  “It’s okay that you don’t remember me. We wouldn’t have run in the same crowd.”

  “But you’re a friend of Liv’s . . .” Vanessa said, looking a bit perplexed.

  “Sure,” Nate said. “Just different cliques, that’s all.”

  “Nate and his stepbrother, Tristan Reeves, were in the honors program. Into which I was never invited,” Liv said with a laugh.

  “That makes two of us,” Vanessa told them.

  “So, I think I have everything Fallon left for me.” Liv bundled up the boxes in oversized shopping bags for Nate, then collected her soiled clothing. “I’m off to the dry cleaners to get this iced coffee taken care of, then I’m meeting Chloe at the florist.”

  Liv and Nate said their goodbyes to Vanessa and left the store. Outside, Liv mused, “Here we go again . . . opposite directions.” She tried to make a joke of the glaring reality, but didn’t sound the least bit convincing.

  Nate kissed her on the forehead and told her, “You’re not the only one who has considered increasing the frequency of our visits.”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “That’s a rather cryptic thing to say.”

  “Tristan and I are in town for a while. We’ll talk more later.” He grinned suggestively.

  Liv’s pulse continued to reverberate throughout her. But she forced herself to whirl around and head off toward the dry cleaners while Nate went to the bakery.

  Her mind, however, was not on the wedding. It was on Nate . . . and Tristan. And what they might be up to . . .

  Chapter Six

  On Friday night, Tristan and Nate mixed and mingled with their guests as they arrived on the Ariana for the cocktail reception. There was a lengthy list of people they needed to hobnob with if they were going to elevate operations in San Francisco and the surrounding area—really, the entire West Coast.

  Admittedly, Tristan felt a modicum of pressure and tension when it came to building a more prominent U.S. infrastructure. They had plenty of successes under their belts, but there was something about invading the tech-heavy California valleys and the Pacific Northwest that left him with jagged feelings. Perhaps that was because this expansion meant so much to him and Nate. This infiltration of their old stomping grounds was like breaking through barriers they’d butted up against most of their lives.

  Yet they’d both experienced an intrinsic pull all this time. Tristan could neither qualify nor quantify the incessant appeal. It was a living, breathing entity, one that had haunted him—and not just to stage a homecoming that might erase some of the bad memories.

  The truth was, the memories weren’t horrendous. Nate would disagree, but as Tristan saw it, they’d forged their own rites of passage while suffering through an awkward adolescence. Not fitting in had been tolerable, enjoyable more often than not, because of the friends—no matter how few—he and Nate had made. Because of Liv.

  And by the time senior year had rolled around, he and Nate had found themselves in a more stable position with the Bayfront crowd, particularly with Fallon, Devon, and Morgan, who were Liv’s closest friends. Naturally, just months later they were off to college, so they hadn’t had a chance to really experience a greater sense of belonging, but they had paved the way for their return. There were endless possibilities on the Bayfront horizon—something that always guided their actions, because California was where they’d always find Liv.

  Which wasn’t the smartest notion to hang one’s aspirations on, Tristan knew. So he’d focused on the professional advantages to establishing a North American base in nearby San Francisco and tried to think of seeing Liv more often as an added bonus. Though he couldn’t deny the wheels had been turning in his head since he and Nate had arrived in town and they’d learned of Devon and Morgan staking a claim on the same woman. That love triangle was resilient, and from what Tristan had observed during the week, blossoming more with every passing day. They were making it work.

  That gave Tristan hope for the situation with Liv. Because he and Nate were both hooked on her and she had not chosen between them when they’d all gotten together—nor had she separated out her friendships with them afterward. They were still a threesome, even when not sexually involved.

  Tristan and Nate could live with a ménage scenario. Their brotherhood was soul deep and each only wanted the best for the other. That was Liv. So concessions could be made. And in all honesty, it really had revved Tristan to watch as much as to participate when they’d been with her.

  But he and Nate weren’t currently attuned to exactly what Liv wanted . . . so that left them continuing to lay their groundwork and waiting for her to explain to them her thoughts on the three-way attraction and where she saw it going—if anywhere. Tristan wasn’t making any assumptions where Liv was concerned.

  On the hunt for her now, he came through the floor-to-ceiling doors from the third of the vessel’s five front decks, skirted the massive black grand piano where classical musician—and Tristan and Nate’s new acquaintance—Lexington Alexander was entertaining, and bypassed the twenty-seat dining table to the left. The chairs had been cleared away and food towers were on display, along with all manner of appetizers that complemented the various carving and specialty stations strategically positioned throughout the room.

  Devon snagged his attention and Tristan joined a small conglomeration engaged in conversation that included Morgan and his father, Dagney. The assembly was fortuitous for Tristan, since he’d personally invited the senior Presley for the specific reason of opening a dialogue on purchasing one of Dagney’s coveted buildings in San Francisco’s Financial District for the Dalton/Reeves international enterprise.

  Morgan made the introductions.

  Dagney said to Tristan, “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, son. D/R Communications has taken the industry by storm these past few years. A number of my associates have reported extremely beneficial and successful interactions with you and your people.”

  “I’m happy to hear that,” Tristan told him. “Nate and I see a great deal of opportunity for some crossover work between our cutting-edge civilian communications concepts and your company’s state-of-the-art military
ones.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” Dagney said. “And rumor has it you’re interested in expanding your European operations to the Bay Area.”

  “If we can find the right building to house our West Coast headquarters.” He grinned.

  Dagney, fatherly but distinguished-looking with salt-and-pepper hair, a refined air, and a portly stature, clasped Tristan on the shoulder and said, “Why don’t we have lunch in the city this week? We’ll discuss some options.”

  “I’ll contact your office for a day and time. Now, be sure to enjoy cigars and cognac on the deck—I think you’ll find the exclusive selections impressive.”

  The older gentleman chuckled. “I’m going to like doing business with you.”

  “Feeling’s mutual, sir.” They shook. He then exchanged pleasantries with Devon and Morgan.

  As they were launching into a conversation about current changes underway in the Bayfront community, including the impending opening of the Covington Collection hotel down the coast on land Devon’s family had sold to Noah Donovan, there was a sudden, palpable shift in the air. Subtle yet unmistakable. Slack jaws from several men gathered close by and a faint but familiar and highly alluring perfume wafting under Tristan’s nose. An undeniable brightening of the entire intimate atmosphere.

  “Excuse me,” Tristan said distractedly as he stepped around Morgan to scan the crowd. And saw Liv practically parting the Red Sea before him.

  She strolled regally into the formal living room as though it were her personal red carpet, stealing breaths in her wake. She glowed radiantly, and it wasn’t just the diamonds and the sparkly sandals she’d paired with the shimmery dress Tristan had sent her that instantly held the masses enrapt.

  She didn’t need all that to be a complete showstopper.

  The word stunning did not do her justice. Tonight . . . there were no words. Not a single one he could think of to describe Liv. Or how she made him feel as everything inside him went haywire.