Erica's Choice

by Sami Lee

  But the moment of truth couldn’t be put off forever. Manners dictated she offer them refreshment for helping her out, even if she hadn’t asked for it. Erica opened the fridge and found a bottle of juice. At the sink she mixed it in a jug with some ice, then she retrieved some bread from the freezer and started making sandwiches.

  The men were working in the backyard now. Erica watched as Corey paused in his duties to wipe the sweat off his face with the hem of his T-shirt. The action exposed the flat expanse of his abdomen and the impressive bulge of his pectorals. Erica’s mouth dried out as everything below her waist grew moist.

  Griff approached, butting shoulders with Corey. He said something close to Corey’s ear, and Corey laughed, color stealing into his cheeks. Every cell in Erica’s body went still as Griff placed his hand on Corey’s stomach, spreading his fingers over the ridged muscles there. There was something beyond platonic in the gesture, close mateship with sexual currents running through it.

  Then Griff moved his hand up so it slid beneath the raised hem of Corey’s T-shirt.

  Erica stood, transfixed, as their foreheads came to rest against one another’s. Griff’s hand moved around underneath the black fabric of Corey’s shirt, caressing and teasing. Corey slanted his face sideways. Erica’s heartbeat extended, became a slow painful thing that vibrated in her chest as Corey’s and Griff’s lips whispered against each other’s.

  Erica had never seen anything as breathtaking, as erotic as those two hard-bodied men being so achingly gentle with each other. Arousal curled like a cresting wave inside her, causing her entire body to tremble. Realizing they were going to catch her watching if she didn’t turn away, Erica dragged her attention back to the refreshments. She tried to lift the jug onto the tray she’d set up, but her hands shook so badly she dropped it. The juice spilled all over the counter, the ice making a succession of loud thumps as it tumbled to the floor.

  She glanced out the window to see Corey and Griff both staring straight at her. Instinctively, she ducked out of sight. She slunk to the floor, feeling like the biggest fool who ever lived. Why on earth was she hiding? It had nothing to do with her what Griff and Corey did to each other. But her mind raced with curiosity. Had her instincts been right? Were they lovers now?

  “Erica?”

  Erica hastened to meet Corey at the back door just as he was pulling open the screen. She placed the flat of her hand on his chest, intent on pushing him back. The feel of his rock-hard pecs beneath her palm, the same pecs Griff had trailed his hand over but a moment ago, made desire run wild inside her.

  The abject concern on his face ripped at the shield around her heart. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I dropped a jug, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry.” The apology tore out of him, a sound like ripping paper. “I’m so sorry. I know you saw. Griff and I… We’ve become more than friends. But we shouldn’t have flaunted it like that.”

  Erica bit her lip, an agony of sorrow twisting her organs. He thought she was repulsed by what she’d seen, when the truth was the absolute opposite. “You can do whatever you want.”

  “I know we talked about it before, but that was talk. This is different. I hope you can learn to accept it, because I don’t think I can stop what’s happening with Griff.”

  “Of course not,” Erica said, surprised. “I would never want you to.”

  Footfalls on the stairs heralded Griff’s arrival on the porch. Erica glanced past Corey’s shoulder to see him standing there, the shade of the awning casting his face in shadows. She sensed rather than saw the defiance in his expression. Erica knew then that this side of him, his sexual flexibility, had not always been embraced by others.

  Erica smiled at both of them, making sure they could see the unadulterated acceptance in her eyes. “I think it’s beautiful. How could I think otherwise? You’re both so wonderful. I’m glad you found your way to each other.”

  Corey said, his expression intense, “I’m glad we found you.”

  Then he kissed her.

  The first touch of his lips was like a drug being reintroduced into her system. Despite everything she’d been through with Corey, his lips had not touched hers since that first night. Erica opened eagerly, sensible thought fleeing. All that mattered was the engrossing magic of Corey’s kiss, the warm support of his arms wrapping around her, the scent of musky male sweat mingled with freshly cut grass.

  Cool timber hit her back as Corey urged her into the shade, pressed her up against the house. His lips never left hers, as though he was as unwilling as she to relinquish the contact. He didn’t release her when she gasped at the way his hand gently cradled her womanly flesh. He relented only when that gasp of pleasure turned into one of shock the moment a second pair of lips brushed across her cheek.

  Corey moved aside, transferring his kiss to her neck as Griff took his turn at her mouth. Erica was already pliant and aroused from Corey’s kiss, so made no objection when Griff immediately sought entry. She moaned at the back of her throat, overwhelmed by the skillful, demanding thrust of his tongue.

  Corey’s thumb swept back and forth across her nipple, which had grown distended beneath her cotton shirt and soft-cup bra. Erica shuddered in the grip of pleasure when Griff slid his hand to cover her other breast and began gently kneading it.

  Breathing became impossible, and she had to wrench her mouth from beneath Griff’s. She dragged warm spring air into her lungs, but it only seemed to increase her dizziness. She forced her eyes open. The rest of the world looked so normal, old houses mixed with new, their tin and tile roofs shining red, grey and black in the midmorning sun.

  Her neighbors possibly in their own yards, perhaps glancing over to see her being fondled by two men.

  The idea wasn’t entirely unappealing, and Erica let out an appalled gasp at her own wickedness. Exhibitionism now? What else were Griff and Corey capable of drawing out of her?

  Corey pulled back and looked into her face. His blue eyes shone with understanding and an intense desire he fought to control. “Let’s go inside.”

  Yes.

  “No.”

  Griff was the one who’d spoken, using the answer she should have been prepared to give. Corey glanced at his friend with a frown. “No?”

  “No.” Griff’s hot mouth brushed over her temple. His hand continued to massage her flesh as though he had no intention of stopping anytime soon. “We’re all sweaty and I’m not taking this further in the shower again. I want more room to maneuver.”

  A shiver raced over Erica’s skin.

  Griff tilted her chin up so their eyes met. His hazel ones were filled with hot passion, but his lips curved sardonically. “Tonight, seven o’clock. Be ready.”

  “For what?”

  Stupid question. They were seducing her. They wanted her, still, although they were now involved with each other. How could that be?

  But Griff didn’t give the bald sexual response Erica expected. He flashed her a grin. “The best steakhouse in the city. You own anything black and tight?”

  Erica blinked. “Do I look like the kind of woman who wears black and tight?”

  “No, but you ought to. Not to worry, one of those prudish skirt-and-blouse sets of yours’ll do for tonight.”

  Prudish?

  Erica was about to offer Griff a piece of her mind, even as she conceded he might be right about her usual wardrobe. But Corey completely muddled her thoughts and her annoyance when he ran his hand over her stomach, making her muscles bunch. “Can’t we make her come just once right now?”

  He moved his hand downward until he cupped her mound through her cotton shorts. Erica couldn’t stifle a moan.

  “Much as I love the way Red screams when she comes…no.” Griff’s smile bordered on satanic. He knew how close to the edge she already was. He traced the outline of her lips. “We’ll make it up to you tonight.”

  With a sigh of disappointment, Corey took his hand away. Erica cut him a look. “You take
your orders from him now?”

  Corey smiled at her annoyance. “He knows what he’s doing.”

  If only Erica knew what he was doing—what they were both doing. The events of the morning had made her head spin. Corey and Griff simply showing up like this, doing her yard chores, flaunting the nature of their relationship and now pulling her into it for reasons she didn’t understand.

  Why did they still want her? What could they possibly need her for?

  The questions had not assembled coherently in her mind by the time they’d packed up in preparation to leave. She was too stunned, too aroused to utter her confusion. She would simply have to go out with them tonight to find out what it all meant.

  At least that was her excuse for not refusing the date.

  “Remember, Red, six o’clock.” Griff told her as he prepared to get in behind the wheel of his car.

  “I thought you said seven.” That demand had burned into her memory.

  Griff smiled. “I decided not to wait that long. Want to make it five?”

  Erica was sorely tempted to suggest four. She bit her tongue to keep from sounding quite that desperate. “Six is fine.”

  They left a moment later, Corey waving through the windshield as the Ute backed out of her driveway. Erica was left standing there wondering what was going on, questioning her own blind obedience in the face of Griff’s demands, and mentally cataloguing everything in her wardrobe.

  She definitely did not own anything black and tight.

  Am I the only woman in the world who doesn’t own any black lingerie?

  At a quarter to six Erica stood before the full-length mirror in her bedroom, cursing her conservative tastes. Brown was the best she could do. Brown. Could she be any more boring?

  In actuality the matching bra and panty set was closer to the color of cinnamon. It wasn’t even a dark chocolate brown that brought to mind edible desserts. It was like satin, and Erica had always gleaned a tactile enjoyment from the way the underwear cupped and caressed her skin. But there was nary a wisp of lace on the full-cup bra and the pants were pants; built for coverage, not seduction.

  She simply didn’t know how to drive a man to distraction with her choice of underthings. In fact she had no clue how she’d sustained Griff’s and Corey’s interest at all—especially now they had each other.

  A rush of lust throbbed through her veins. Erica had no idea where her fascination with the intimate side of Griff and Corey’s relationship had sprung from, but she couldn’t stop picturing the two men together, doing things to each other. Hard bodies straining, soft lips exploring, undressing each other. It was fascinating—and shockingly arousing.

  Erica’s fingers trembled as she pulled her best dress off its hanger and slipped it over her shoulders. It was a wraparound style with three-quarter sleeves that she usually wore with a black camisole beneath on account of its plunging neckline. Tonight she went without it.

  Unused to revealing quite so much cleavage, Erica had the immediate urge to change. But the only black dress she owned was high necked and dour—prudish—the dress she’d worn to her aunt’s funeral. This one was a dark emerald green that flattered her red hair and pale complexion. She’d bought it years ago for the first time Doug had taken her to dinner and a show. She’d hoped for passion that night, but it had never eventuated. If she’d worn it without the concealing camisole then would Doug’s reaction have been stronger?

  Probably not. Erica had come to realize that for Doug she had been little more than convenient company when he found himself in the mood for some. His passion had been reserved for his dusty history texts and for the convoluted politics of academic life. Any attempts Erica had made at spicing things up had been met with lukewarm bewilderment. But when the issues of her genetic test and Aunt Claire’s diagnosis had begun to consume her, the resultant lack of attention she’d afforded Doug had irked him.

  He’d dropped her like a hot potato. Would Griff and Corey do the same thing if they knew the truth?

  Erica pushed thought of the future from her mind, concentrating instead on the moment. Her recent cancer scare had illuminated the fact she hadn’t been enjoying life because of her fixation on somber possibilities. Soon enough she would have to deal with her situation and the probability that whatever novelty factor she represented for her two firemen would wear off.

  Soon enough—but not yet. Not tonight.

  A solid knock on the door made Erica bolt into action. Surveying her reflection in the mirror one last time, she prayed the dark eye makeup she’d applied didn’t make her look like what her students would call a try-hard. Then she slipped on her black heels, grabbed her purse and rushed for the door.

  Corey stood on the veranda, dressed in black pants and a cobalt-blue button-down shirt that drew attention to the color of his eyes. The material stretched tight across his chest and arms, and Erica wondered if he had trouble finding shirts to accommodate his size. The thought brought to mind his considerable girth in other departments, and a hot blush infused her throat.

  Surveying her appearance, Corey let out a low whistle. “Holy smokes, Erica. You look incredible.”

  The heat in Erica’s throat moved to her face. She fought against the compulsion to refute the compliment. “Thank you. So do you.”

  “Are you ready?”

  As ready as I’ll ever be. Erica nodded and switched on her porch light. As she went to lock the door, Corey stopped her. “You might want to leave the light off. I don’t think you’ll be coming back here tonight.”

  The presumptuous statement was so unlike Corey that Erica glanced at him askance. There was a glimmer of abashment in the curve of his lips, but the sparkle in his eyes was all irascible self-assurance, so reminiscent of Griff’s usual demeanor that Erica shook her head in bemusement. “I think Griff is rubbing off on you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Where is Griff?”

  “We’re going to meet him there.”

  Corey escorted her to an older-model Ford and settled her into the passenger seat as though she were a princess being handed into a carriage. Once he was behind the wheel and they were on their way, he apologized. “Sorry about the car. I cleaned it up the best I could.”

  “I don’t care that you drive an old car, Corey.”

  “I know. I still wish I had something nicer to take you out in. Especially when you look so amazing.”

  Lifting one of her hands from her lap, Corey held it in his and rested them both on his thigh. The warmth of his muscular leg permeated their linked hands, making Erica’s heartbeat turn from an erratic fluttering to a pounding, steady rhythm.

  How could he arouse her and calm her at the same time? That simple contact generated an acute sense of longing inside Erica, a longing that grew and swelled and peaked time and again as they headed toward their mystery destination. Yet at the same time Corey’s touch was reassuring. They barely spoke but there was no awkwardness in the long stretches of silence. It was as though they’d been sitting beside each other holding hands for years.

  Or as though they would for decades to come.

  Quickly, Erica quashed that wistful thought. Tonight was about enjoying the now, not trying to analyze what it all meant or agonize over the fact it couldn’t last.

  The best steakhouse in the city looked very much like a suburban house. Erica looked out the window, her surprise evident to Corey in the confines of the car.

  “This isn’t a restaurant.”

  Corey explained. “Best steakhouse in town, Griff said. He’s not one for modesty, you might have noticed that.”

  “This is Griff’s house?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  Corey went around to open the passenger door for her. Taking her by the hand—he couldn’t seem to bring himself to let it go—Corey led Erica to the front porch. He paused before opening the door, turning her toward him. “Erica, before we go in…”

  She raised her eyebrows expectantly, her brown eyes wide and soft. “Yes?
”

  With a groan Corey dipped his head and sampled the cherry-flavored lip gloss he’d been aching to taste since she first opened the door. Erica whimpered something unintelligible and pressed up against him, those gorgeous breasts cushioning his chest.

  Corey held her elbows and battled the compulsion to pull her more tightly to him. He’d promised himself he’d make this night special, and that meant not rushing her into bed the second they walked through the door.

  Suddenly the front door opened, and there was Griff, leaning on the doorjamb, watching them. “Shit, Wachawski, I can’t trust you for a minute, can I?”

  Making a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh, Corey pulled back and turned toward Griff. “Nope.”

  Griff’s lips twitched, letting Corey know any irritation in his voice was only for show. His gaze roamed Corey’s face before trailing downward, blazing a trail over his body. Then his attention shifted to Erica, and his eyes lit like flares in the dim light of the hallway. Corey knew Griff was having the same reaction to Erica as he’d had himself when he’d first laid eyes on her. “God help me,” Griff muttered.

  He took Erica’s hand, the one Corey didn’t already have clasped in his, and led her inside. Corey brought up the rear, admiring the way the soft green dress caressed Erica’s thighs as she walked. Affording Griff’s ass its due attention too. He wore a black shirt he’d left untucked so the tails hung over his dark jeans. It didn’t entirely obstruct Corey’s view of his ass, fortunately. The man looked criminally good in well-fitted denim.

  Corey had to force himself to breathe. This was intense. It was one thing to admit to himself he wanted them both, Griff and Erica, quite another to be here with them, knowing full well what was to come. Anticipation made Corey as edgy as hell, and as gleeful as a kid locked in a toy store overnight.