by Cari Quinn
Instead, he’d just paid for whatever she asked. Not because he wanted to spoil her, but because he didn’t give a good goddamn. It was easier just to say yes than to actually have a discussion with her.
She tightened her fingers on her steering wheel.
Yeah, not going there. Not today, not now. Now she had two men—well, at least one man—who knew how to make her crazy. Who could get her out of her head for a few hours with laughter and orgasms for days.
She shivered as memories of that night pushed away the family crap. It had been more than a few days, but the technicolor flashes of what they’d done after the wedding were as clear as if it were yesterday.
And her body responded in kind.
She reached in back and dragged out her laundry bag. Lucky her, she’d just gone to the laundromat last night. She flipped off the Metallica baseball-style T-shirt and dragged on a red shirt that showed off the girls to their maximum potential. It was her favorite top. She could throw it in any bag and it never wrinkled.
A few spritzes of perfume and a few minutes with her makeup bag and she didn’t look like she’d been slaving away the entire day. Okay, not slaving. She loved to play, but by the end of practice, her fingers hurt and she desperately needed a neck message.
Maybe she’d get a little of that with her pizza.
Her phone buzzed on the dashboard. She read it and swallowed hard.
Tristan: Three.
Oh, shit. Her nipples beaded up under the shirt.
Hmm, maybe not the smartest outfit to put on. Should she change her bra?
No.
Own it. She would absolutely own just how much those two men turned her on. But to help her cause, she rolled down the window, then plugged in Tristan’s address from the text that had just come through.
Cocky bastard knew he had her.
She was okay with it though. Especially if it meant she’d feel even an ounce of what she had last weekend.
She followed her Google Maps directions to an industrial address. Feeling a little weirded out, she slowed to a crawl before turning into the parking lot. When a woman with two bags of groceries got out of her car and went for the front door, she relaxed a little.
A lot of the old buildings outside of Hollywood had been converted into apartments because land was at a definite premium. She tore the band out of her hair and shook it free to fall down her back. Normally, she enjoyed her curls, but right now she was glad she’d splurged to get her hair done.
She’d played up her eyes a bit and it gave her a slightly sultry bad girl look.
She could work with that. Especially tonight.
The front of the building was lit up and a few fat pots filled with succulents and happy-faced purple flowers cheered up the brick. She pulled out her phone and asked him which floor.
A minute later, the clatter of a freight elevator answered her. She peered down the hallway, expecting Tristan.
She got Sparks.
He hauled up the large wooden gate that covered the opening. His blue shirt rose, leaving a delicious slice of skin and arrow of hair above his unbelted jeans. Instead of shoes, he wore a pair of flip-flops.
She grinned. She’d never seen him in anything other than huge work boots. “Hi.”
Sparks—Randy—no, it was Sparks. She couldn’t twist her tongue around Randy. He wasn’t a Randy to her. He was fire and sparks on a control board. He was determination and unflappable where she’d panicked.
She frowned.
That was the first time she’d remembered the panic.
She tried to block out that night. The fire and heavy smoke had flipped a switch in her brain, dragging her back to that place. The place she didn’t ever want to think about again.
“Hey.” Sparks frowned and touched her arm. “You okay?”
She shook off the past. It was being annoyingly persistent today. She needed this—needed them—to help her destress and take the edge off. To drown in pleasure and eat pizza. To laugh. “Yeah. Sorry. Long day.”
“I hear that. I drove most of the day.”
She gripped the front of his T-shirt, twisting the material until she could drag him down to bump her nose with his. “You left.”
“I…” His Adam’s apple bounced as he swallowed. His lashes lowered as he stared at her mouth. “Yeah. I did.”
“Why?”
His gaze bounced up to meet hers. “It was only supposed to be one night.”
“Do you want it to be only one night?”
His tongue flicked over his lower lip. She leaned in and brushed her lips over his lower one. It was wet and soft. He was always so gentle. Even now with her at his place, he waited for her to make the move. Even when there was barely a hairsbreadth of space between them.
She nipped the same spot and heard his shallow intake of air. She curled his shirt tighter until the neck stretched and she caught sight of his collarbone. The long line of his neck and little tendons that pulsed as he held himself still.
She didn’t want him on the precipice. For now, she wanted him all in.
“Do you want it to be just one night?” she asked again.
He didn’t answer her. No, there was no need for an answer when he covered her mouth with his. He crushed her to him, dragging her up onto her toes. His arms were like steel bands, but that was fine by her.
She didn’t want to go anywhere else.
The kiss was wild and indecent. He sucked on her tongue, twining his around hers and overwhelming her until there was no room for doubt.
One night just wouldn’t ever be enough.
She slid her hands around his back and into his back pockets. She gripped his firm ass, moaning into his mouth when his hard cock pressed into her belly. She rolled against him, already aching for him.
She’d tasted him.
He’d filled her mouth and his cum had splashed over her skin. But she would rectify the situation tonight.
He’d be inside her.
Just like Tristan.
Tristan.
She tore her mouth away. Instead of stopping, he dragged his teeth down her neck and sank them into her shoulder. She tipped back for a moment and let him brand her. There was no way the skate of teeth hadn’t left a mark.
She liked it.
Wondered what Tristan would say when he saw it.
She pushed him back into the gate over the elevator. “Upstairs.”
His grip was just shy of dangerously tight before he slowly let her go. He slapped the button on the wall and the elevator came to life. He shoved the gate up and dragged her inside.
It was impossibly large.
She could have a damn dance party in there, but he crossed the space to the lever and slapped it. Instead of coming back to her, he stayed there, his chest heaving a little with the breath he’d denied himself.
Lips twitching, she put her hands on her hips. “Why so far away?”
“Because you’re too tempting.”
She gave into a full-fledged smile. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” When he opened the gate, she sashayed off the elevator and into the wide, white and brick room.
“Quite the place you’ve got, Tris.” Her belly growled at the scents wafting on the air. “And I’m pretty sure I’d do anything to taste what I’m smelling.”
He came out of a different room and into the kitchen. A black thermal shirt hugged his lean body and had been paired with faded jeans with a tear in the knee. “That could be arranged.” His gaze heated, then dragged down her body. “Though it looks like there may have been a welcome wagon that didn’t include me.”
She let her hips sway a little extra. “Maybe.” She stopped in front of him, tipping her chin up to meet his stormy blue eyes.
He grasped her neck lightly, dragging his thumb over the marks Sparks had made. He lowered his mouth to follow the exact same path. His kiss was softer, though a scratch of beard chased his gentle lips. But his fingers flexed lightly on her throat. She sucked in a breath as he n
ipped her chin. “Can’t have that,” he said, taking her mouth.
His kiss was wild and thorough. Finesse and power.
She reached behind her and caught the front of Sparks’s jeans. He groaned as she skipped her fingers up his erection to his belt loops. She dragged him closer until his magnificent cock pressed against her ass.
Sparks slid his fingers through her hair, dragging it aside to taste her neck from the back. The swirl of his tongue at her nape, and Tristan’s along the roof of her mouth left her body reeling.
This was exactly what she needed tonight. No thinking, just this. All of this surrounding her.
All of them.
Tristan drew back and let her go. He swiped his thumb over his lower lip as if relishing her taste. Sparks tried to pull away too, but she didn’t let him. He was skittish as it was already.
She drew his hand around the front of her and under her shirt. She hissed. “Cold hands.” She covered it with her own and drew it up to her breasts while Tristan watched. She sighed as Sparks’s cool fingers burned through the cups of her bra.
A buzzer on the stove broke the moment. Tristan turned away to grab an oven mitt.
She rolled her ass against the front of Sparks’s jeans as he tested the weight of her. Her nipples were so damn hard. The damn man evidently had been taking his cues from his friend, because he coasted his palms over the rigid tips before sliding back down her ribs and out from under her shirt.
“We should eat.”
Fuck pizza. She wanted to say that. Instead, she nodded. “Wouldn’t want to waste it.”
Tristan grinned. “More like you’ll need your strength, sweetheart.”
Okay then. She managed not to shiver. Instead, she tossed her hair back. “Then feed me.”
Tristan’s eyes went dark again. “Oh, that’s a fucking fact.”
Her stomach flipped, but she tossed him her half smile. She trailed her fingers along the edge of the counter then moved toward where a heavy round table was tucked in the corner.
The room opened up with exposed brick and huge, guy-sized furniture. But it wasn’t completely college dorm. The furniture was good quality. Maybe not like the kind at her palatial Bostonian museum of a home, but definitely not bargain basement.
A television the size of a movie theater dominated a wall with a tower of boy toys. Every gaming system she’d ever heard of, and even one that was older than she was.
She dragged her fingers over the back of a leather couch and turned to find them standing in the open arch between the kitchen and living room, staring at her.
“What?” She looked down at her shirt. She had pulled this one out of the clean laundry, right?
Now that she looked a little closer, the gleam in Tristan’s eyes was a bit more predatory. Sparks? His was just liquid heat. Like bottle-green glass caught in the sun and refracting the light, making him seem slightly otherworldly.
Her guys.
At least for tonight.
She rubbed her hands together. “I’m starving.”
“The pizza is resting.” Sparks rolled his eyes.
“You want cheese sliding off?” When neither of them replied, Tristan snapped his towel against his thighs. “I didn’t think so.”
Sparks retreated back into the kitchen and came back with wine and glasses. He poured her a glass and handed it over.
Her fingers lingered over his for a moment before bringing the glass to her lips. She took a sip. Her eyebrow arched at the fiery smoky flavor. There was something to be said for having a foodie-type in her life. No rotgut wine here.
She was used to box wine at Margo and Simon’s house. Her sister and brother-in-law were loaded, but they were funny with what they spent their money on.
She was pretty sure Margo had put all her Boston knowledge in a box. She ate pizza with her fingers, played naked Monopoly—Juliet wished she didn’t know that one—and had a strange fixation with a garish black and leather chair that looked like it belonged in Game of Thrones that resided in their living room.
Funny how life turned out.
Sparks moved to the table and pulled out one chair, then another. Evidently, she was going to be in the middle of all things tonight.
Her damn nipples were going to bust through her blouse if she didn’t get herself together. She moved into the corner where the round table butted up against the window. It was a small nook—cozy, one might say.
All she could think was trouble, because she was going to be trapped between two very hungry males.
The chair seat was surprisingly plush.
Sparks returned to the kitchen. “Are you sure you don’t need help?”
“No,” Tristan replied. “We’re good.”
She shrugged. The kitchen definitely wasn’t her domain, but she did know how to set a table. Before she could feel guilty for sitting on her ass and letting them wait on her, Sparks returned with plates and napkins. No paper plates for this evening. No, Sparks held heavy white plates rimmed in black with red peeking from the bottom.
Trust Tristan to have a nice presentation even at home. Or maybe especially at home. Even just for pizza.
She sat back, holding her glass as Sparks placed the plate just so, then he layered a set of silverware tucked in a red cloth napkin across the plate. His smile was a little tight, but less nervous than her previous night with him.
“Thanks.”
He dipped his head a little and a lock of hair fell forward. Cute.
Tristan came out with a pizza stone on an elevated tray like a pizza place. He set it in the middle of the table and for the first time, her mouth watered for more than the two men hovering over her.
“Wow.”
“It’s just pizza.” Tristan sat next to her and snapped out his napkin. Instead of giving her any room, his thigh bumped against hers as he nudged her into the corner.
Sparks sat down and did the same, getting all up in her space.
“Guys, a little elbow room.”
Tristan grinned. “Nope.”
She huffed and stole a piece of pizza. She sucked off sauce and got her first hit of garlic and oregano. She sighed. “Just pizza. Sure.”
Sparks took a piece. “Well, you know perfectionist boy over here made the sauce and did everything from scratch. Including the dough.”
She held the pizza in front of her mouth. The cheese dripped enough that Tristan reached over to save a piece of pepper. Instead of taking it for himself, he held it out for her and placed it on her tongue.
Sparks gripped her thigh under the table.
Yeah, how the hell was she supposed to eat with these two hovering and crowding her? She chewed then took a bite of the pizza and moaned around the burst of flavors. She’d been all over the world. She knew good pizza, she knew mediocre pizza, and all the stuff in between.
This was unfairly the best pizza she’d ever had.
One, because there was no way she was binging on it when these two had such obvious plans for her. And two, she wasn’t going to reek of garlic tonight.
But she savored every bite of the one piece she allowed herself and drank enough wine to slow her nerves.
Each brush of thigh, fingers, shoulder, ramped up her mood until she was squirming in her seat.
Tristan eased back in his chair, kicking out his bare feet to slide along her ankle and twine with hers. Sparks finished his food and dropped his hand into her lap, his thumb lazily stroking her knee and along her inner thigh.
She swallowed heavily, but couldn’t quite relax.
Is this what it would feel like to be trapped between them tonight? One with the easy sexuality of a patient man with nothing to prove, and the other coiled with energy and intent.
She set her glass down, then eased her fingers along Sparks’s jaw. She drew him closer and his mouth went right for the space behind her ear. Gentle as air, he nuzzled her skin. She rested her elbow on the table to give him more access.
The problem was, it gave Tristan a mean
s of entry as well. The back of his knuckle grazed over her breast and she hissed out a breath. Both of them in patient mode would surely kill her.
Again and again, Tristan flicked over the center of her breast, teasing her nipple to hardness. Sparks’s hand slid higher on her leg, hovering at the top of her thigh and yet going no farther.
She rolled her hips a little and moaned as Sparks’s sweet touch along her ear turned to a sucking nip. She closed her eyes and let herself accept their combined foreplay.
Easy. It was so damn easy to open up and allow them both to find all her tells.
Neck.
Ear.
Breast.
Jawline.
She dropped her head back as Sparks’s fingers finally grew bolder and he massaged his knuckle along her cleft. Not enough to help her out, but he definitely wanted to make sure she knew he was there and what he wanted.
Her eyes slitted. Tristan’s blurry golden skin sparkled in the low light. He was watching. His thumb and forefinger tugged at her nipple a little more forcefully when Sparks’s fingers went deeper. Sparks sawed the side of his hand against her pants while he sucked on her neck, making lift her hips and widen her legs.
“If we don’t move this out of the corner, I’m going to demand someone duck under the table,” she murmured.
“What if that someone’s you?” Tristan asked her.
Her mouth watered. She couldn’t deny that would be a fantastic idea, but before she could answer, Sparks stood. His eyes were hooded and his soft, worn jeans no longer looked so comfy.
She reached out and danced her fingertips down the outline of his shaft before he stepped back.
“Why don’t you guys clean up and I’ll—fuck, we cannot do this here.”
Tristan leaned into her and covered her breast over her clothes. He tongued her nipple and lightly tugged at the tip now pulsing under the thin material. He looked up at his friend. “You really want to leave now, son?”
“You really want to do this jammed in the corner with leftovers everywhere?”
