Clay set his hand on Tommy’s shoulder. “I figured that was what had him in a mood. Thank you for telling me, Tommy. You didn’t do anything wrong. Don’t worry about it, and please don’t feel bad.”
Tasha thought the young man might have excused himself and headed home then, but he went into the family room with the other kids. Sounds of laughter and cheers made their way into the kitchen. Clay leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed.
“Hard work, being a parent.” Tasha looked at Gord, who nodded. Then she went to stand beside Clay.
“It is.”
“And lonely sometimes, too, I imagine.” She reached for his hand and he gave it. She relaxed a little when he laced his fingers with hers.
“The first six months after Vicky died were hell. I wanted to curl up into a ball, but I couldn’t because the children needed me. And then Shaun started to get into trouble. One of the patrolmen on the Toronto Police Force had been a friend of Vicky’s when she’d been a teen, and it was just grace that found him being the one to nab Shaun for attempted shoplifting. Instead of busting him for trying to steal those cigarettes, he brought him home. The officer told me who he’d seen Shaun hanging out with, and that those kids were trouble with a capital T. I knew then, something had to change.”
Tasha fully realized in that moment just how focused on his children Clay truly was. Everything he did was for them.
Even, she realized in a clear moment of insight, teaming up with his best friend, Gord, in order to court her.
It made sense when she thought about it. He was trying to secure his children’s future—make sure they were taken care of in case anything happened to him. Tasha understood that was a common fear for the surviving parent after their spouse died. She’d already guessed Clay felt conflicted, even as he was drawn to her—and he was drawn.
“Tasha?”
She blinked and brought her focus back to the man standing beside her. She wondered what he’d seen on her face just then to put the concern in his eyes. We all have baggage and issues. Whether or not they would ever be able to open those bags and empty them remained to be seen.
This was the time for exploring, for building their relationship, along with that bridge of trust they would need if they were going to stay together for the long term.
So she set aside her worries for the moment. Some things just had to be left alone until their time. “You’re a good father, Clay. You’ve put the well-being of your children ahead of yourself.”
“That’s not special.”
“Tasha’s right. You are a good father, and that is special. Maybe not here, in Lusty, so much. But in the wider world? You only have to pick up a newspaper and see how selfishness has permeated so much of our society, these days.”
“I think you’re both giving me more credit than I deserve.”
The near hysterical laughter of kids spilled into the kitchen. Tasha couldn’t hold back her smile, and neither could the men. She wanted in on some of that carefree-sounding fun. “Gord and I will finish up in here and join the other kids,” she offered. “If you want to go and talk to Shaun.”
Clay shook his head. “I’ll talk with him later. I think he needs a bit of solitude to reconsider his attitude.”
Tasha grinned. “That sounded poetic.”
Clay laughed. She could still see tension tightening the skin around his mouth and a shadow of pique still shaded his eyes. But for the moment, he clearly chose to set aside the worry and focus on the fun, too. “Let’s finish and then challenge those kids to a tournament.”
Gord rubbed his hands together, clearly liking the proposal. “Sounds like a plan. I’ve been practicing.” He wiggled his fingers. “Hands that have mastered the torque wrench are about to master the joy stick.”
Tasha met his gaze and then let hers wander down to the front of his pants. Just her look in that direction caused a change and she secretly crowed in feminine pride. Then she met his gaze again. “I didn’t notice any deficiencies in that area last night.”
“Wench.” He laughed and swatted her ass.
“We need to get us a paddle,” Clay said.
She giggled, even as she evaded their grasping arms and worked, instead, at tidying the kitchen. She was anxious to get her mind off her libido, which had just done cartwheels at the mention of a paddle.
Tasha decided that it probably would be best, though, if she kept her body’s reaction to herself—at least for now.
* * * *
“Are you all right with this?” Gord had started his pickup, but hadn’t put it into gear yet. Instead, he’d turned and fixed his gaze on Tasha.
“Spending the night, just the two of us? Yes. I like the idea of having some alone time with each of you now and again.”
“Good. That’s good, then.” He checked to make certain she’d fastened her seat belt. Then he backed out of Clay’s driveway, and steered for home.
“What about you? Are you nervous to be alone with me?”
“No.” He reached for her hand, and when she gave it, brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I’m not surprised that you knew I was very nervous, at first. But now…it’s not that I’m taking you for granted. I hope I never do that and if you think I am, you kick my ass.” He took his eyes off the road at the stop sign and flashed her a grin. “Now we’ve started, haven’t we? Building this thing between us. So I’m excited, but not nervous.”
“Me, too. Excited, but not nervous.”
“Then I guess I should get us back to my place, as quickly as is safely possible.”
It felt good holding Tasha’s hand as he drove. He’d never been a randy teenager with his girl in the front seat, looking for a place to park on a Saturday night. Not long ago he’d had a period when he’d felt as if he’d been cheated by life. His inability to father children had kept him from reaching for a relationship, or the ultimate gold ring—a family of his own.
He felt cheated no longer.
The drive from Clay’s house to his own took only a few minutes. He sighed when he pulled into his own driveway. He stopped his car by the porch and turned off the engine.
“I wonder, pretty lady, if you’ll indulge me.” He turned to her and reached for her seat belt. Once he had it unfastened, he put his hands on her waist and eased her closer.
“Of course I will. There’s not much I enjoy more than indulging you.”
He grinned and raised his eyebrows twice in rapid succession. Her low laughter floated in the air and then shot straight to his soul.
He closed his lips over her smile.
He’d wanted only a taste of her, and found that one taste wasn’t enough—could never be enough.
He felt his cock harden, and completely reveled in the thrill of that, in the absolute joy and carnal pleasure of being horny. No longer a young man, he knew an erection wasn’t necessarily a guaranteed event. And yet, with Tasha in his arms, he thought that as long as she was near, he’d be able to manage the state for the rest of his life.
He eased his lips from hers, drawing in air, feeling lightheaded as well as stiff-cocked. Tasha sighed and laid her head on his shoulder, in that special little dip God had given men for their women and children to rest their heads.
“We’re fogging up your windows.” She sounded amused by the fact.
Gord looked around. “So we are. Can’t say as I’ve ever done that before.”
Always intuitive, she reached up and stroked the side of his face. “Do you want to make love right here?”
He took her hand and kissed it. “No, darlin’. Though if you don’t mind, we’ll hold that in reserve for another time. I want you in my house—in my bed.”
“Mmm, me, too. But I wonder if we can detour?”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I’ve been having extremely kind thoughts of that very large claw-foot tub you have in the master bath.”
“Visions of you surrounded by bubbles just flashed through my mind. Sounds like a damn fin
e idea to me.”
“It would be an even better idea if you joined me.” Then she shrugged. “Except, of course, then you’d smell like the bubble bath.”
“No, I’ll smell like you, and that suits me just fine.” He lifted her chin and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “Let’s go. I want to be wet with you.”
Once inside the house, they headed straight upstairs. Gord made his way to the bathroom and filled the tub. He poured in the foaming bath oil, and adjusted the temperature to make it warm, but not too hot. He heard her come into the room. He turned to look and then sighed. She was wondrously, gloriously naked, her long black hair taken up carelessly in a clip. Looking at her, at the way one wispy black strand fell halfway down her head from the clip, the way her luminous green eyes sparkled when she smiled at him—his mouth watered for her and his soul ached for her.
“My lady, your bath awaits.” He opened his hand to her, and when she took it, held her safe as she stepped into the tub.
He didn’t care about being neat in that moment. He just wanted to join her. He shucked his clothes, and then faced a dilemma—whether to get into the tub at the other end so he could watch her, or get in and lift her onto his lap and hold her.
First the former, then the latter.
Tasha’s heartfelt sigh made his heart happy.
“All things considered, it was a good day,” she said. “I enjoyed spending time with the kids.”
“So did I.” He lifted her right foot and began to gently massage it—and grinned at the sounds of pleasure she made.
For a long moment she lay there, eyes closed, simply relaxing in the bath, and into his massage. It pleased him to do this for her, to be the one providing her with something that felt good, over and above the sexual. He’d paid attention to his cousins through the years, to the little things the men thought to do to make their women’s lives better. Because he’d been a child of Lusty, he’d grown up with the principle that a man did more than earn a living to “take care” of his wife—whether there was one husband or two, or more.
Women, by their very natures, were nurturers. They gave of themselves so naturally. That wasn’t a characteristic restricted to Lusty, either. He’d made friends when he went to college, and he’d been invited home by some of them. The majority of the wives and mothers he’d met took care of the little things and the big things, and rarely put themselves first.
He agreed with his father, and uncles, and grandfathers. A woman deserved all the pampering and “spoiling” her man, or men, could heap on her.
He’d once seen a magazine article entitled, “How to Get Your Wife to Treat You Like a King.” He hadn’t read it, of course, because he knew the answer to that question. If a man wanted his wife to treat him like a king, all he had to do was treat his wife like a queen first.
Tasha sighed and opened her eyes. “I hope he comes around.”
Gord met her gaze and nodded, because he understood that she wasn’t referring to Shaun. That young man was mostly working through his very understandable anger at losing his mother. He was coming along, as near as Gord could tell. He’d already come a long way from the silent, sullen boy who’d arrived in the summer. No, she was thinking of Clay.
“I believe he will, darlin’. He’s clinging to the past, because he never really had the time he needed to deal with his loss—he was too busy trying to help the children deal with theirs. I know him pretty well. I can tell you he’s more than half in love with you already. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
“I’m more than halfway in love with you both. And as much as there’s a part of me that wants us all together, there’s a part of me that’s afraid to believe in that happy-ever-after.”
“It’s all right to be afraid, Tasha.” He’d known she had been, right from the beginning. That was why she’d “run” every time he and Clay had gotten close. “For tonight, let’s just enjoy this time we have. I believe that things will work out the way they’re meant to be. We just have to be patient, and take things one day at a time.”
“I think you have enough faith for all of us,” Tasha said. Then she sighed, lifted her left foot, and stroked it along his cock.
His entire body shivered with delight. His cock had already been semi-hard, but Tasha’s single caress saw him leaving semi behind.
“Why don’t we just do that little thing? Enjoy ourselves?”
“My lady, your wish is my command.”
Chapter 15
Gord Jessop was a tender, reverent lover.
He helped her to stand in the bath tub, and then used the shower wand to rinse the soap from her body. The towel he brought to her had been heated—there remained just enough of a chill in the air that the concept of a warm towel simply seduced her. He and Clay had done this their first time together, and she’d loved it then.
She loved it now.
Tasha worked each day in a profession that called for her to pamper her clients. How extraordinary it felt to be the one on the receiving end of such exquisite indulgence.
“Your skin is so incredibly soft.” Gord kissed her shoulder, and then eased her into his arms. While he kept the fluffy towel against her back, her front was flush with his, flesh on flesh. “I’ve never felt anything as soft, or as sexy, as your skin.”
Tasha lifted her arms and encircled his neck. “Is that right?”
“Mmm. Soft and supple, so that I just want to touch you. At the game, earlier today? I had the devil’s own time keeping my hands to myself. I’ve never understood, over the years, when I would see lovers out and about, the way they’d reach for each other, seemingly without thought. Now I do. It’s a need to touch, to connect—it’s a very real need in me, and that need is growing, daily.”
Tasha wiggled herself against him. “That’s not all that’s growing.”
“Noticed that, did you?”
“Trust me when I tell you it’s impossible to miss.” She sighed and laid her head on his chest. The moment wrapped them in incredible intimacy. It truly felt as if they were in a world of their own. Tasha knew that tomorrow evening, when she would be alone with Clay, that the emotions, for her, would be the same. These two men—equal but different—had completely captured her heart. The words came, all on their own. “I’d given up hope.”
“So had I.” He ran his hands up and down her back. “Come to bed, Tasha. I want to love you, but I need to hold you, first.”
She lifted her head from his chest and cupped his cheek in her hand. “That’s exactly what I need, too.” Stretching up, she placed a gentle kiss on his lips.
Gord took the towel from around her and set it on the rack. Then he led her to the bed, holding the blankets up so she could slide in easily.
Tasha smiled when he pulled her into his arms and sighed. He tucked the blankets around her back and held her close.
“This is nice.” He ran his hand up and down her arm, a soothing kind of caress. Tasha wished, for one moment, that Clay was here, too, that he spooned her and that she could spend this night as she had last night, sandwiched between her two lovers.
Then she set that thought aside. There had to be space, and moments, that she could share and enjoy with each of her lovers, individually. Yes, if they were going to build something permanent then they would have to be a unit, the three of them together. Tasha had been able to get a bit of a sense of how that worked with the Evans-Magees and the James-Wakefields—two ménage families where the men were friends, instead of brothers. She had great hope because her friend Emily Anne had two husbands who hadn’t even been lifelong friends—but had become a family with her at their center nonetheless.
Tasha wanted that, but there also had to be a connection, one on one, for the woman with each of her men.
Her men.
Tasha knew, logically, that they were still in the earliest stage of their relationship, the three of them. They all had important issues to deal with. She should be thinking that this relationship wasn’t guaranteed to last. Mayb
e, she should be thinking that it couldn’t possibly stretch into a forever kind of love for all three of them together.
But that was not how she felt. Was it her innate optimism influencing this sense, or something else? Something other?
Tasha sighed and rubbed her face against Gord’s chest. She loved the scent of him and the sensation of his arms around her, holding her close and safe.
“Isn’t it interesting how fate has brought the three of us together?” Gord’s voice, soft and low, brushed against her hair. “We’re three wounded souls who need each other.”
“I’m worried about Clay.” She hadn’t planned to say that. I guess tonight is my time for revelations. “I don’t think he’s dealt with his loss yet.”
“I know that he hasn’t. Not with any sense of seeking closure. So all we can do is be there for him. Did I ever tell you about the first time we met—when we were adults, that is?”
“No, you didn’t.”
“I guess in a way, that first time we sat and talked set the tone for the way in which our friendship grew. He came to his grandfather, Gerald’s funeral.” Gord turned and lay on his right side, propping his head up on his hand. He laid his right hand on her, his fingers splayed, just below her breasts.
“You’d met each other before that as kids?”
“Oh, sure, he and his parents and sister came a few times to visit. Maria…I remember thinking that she was like a woodland sprite, always on the move. When he came for Gerry’s funeral, he spent time with his grandmother and Patrick, of course. But then he seemed…lost. I’ve always been a bit of a loner, myself, and I recognized some of those qualities in him. When we talked, it felt as if I’d found my brother. We kept in constant contact after that.”
Tasha understood what he meant about setting the tone of their friendship. They’d forged a beginning as adults during a time of loss, and loss of one kind or another had bound them.
Love Under Two Introverts [The Lusty, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 15
