High-Stakes Loving [King's Bluff, Wyoming 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Fiona Archer

  Caught up with her friends, plans for dinner had passed her by, and here were Mike and Quinn, doing their thing, taking care of her.

  “Thank you.” Her voice sounded thick, a buildup of the day’s emotions coating the inside of her throat.

  Marvin dashed out from her bedroom and headed straight to his food bowl. “Meeeooww.”

  “Looking for your Sunday night treat?” She bent down, picking up the tabby and rubbing his shiny coat.

  Marvin shot Mike and Quinn a cautious glance. The tabby’s former owner’s boyfriend had been the kitty’s abuser. Men were something to be feared. Winning his trust was a long-term project.

  Would Mike and Quinn be around for that long? However long that turned out to be.

  Was that what she wanted?

  So much had been left hanging after last night. Then this morning, events had taken over, removing any chance for normal conversation.

  The fact the guys stayed here all day, rarely leaving her alone unless she was with her girlfriends, and had cooked dinner, spoke volumes both as to their character and seemingly to their commitment to building on their…what should she call it? Friendship seemed too light a title. A relationship maybe? No, too heavy. She wasn’t ready for heavy.

  And on top of everything surrounding her mom, she had an election campaign to fight. God, what a mess.

  Her sigh puffed over Marvin’s ears, which twitched in apparent disapproval. She lowered him to the ground to search the pantry for his treat. Once he spied the tin of sardines in her hands, he wrapped himself around her legs.

  “Okay, boy, give me a second.” She laughed as she forked out the oily fish into his bowl.

  Mike glanced over from the counter, where he stirred the stew. “I’ve never heard a cat purr so loudly.” His voice rippled with an undercurrent of laughter. “Must have Dolby speakers in his chest.”

  “He loves his fishy treats.” And she loved spoiling Marvin, probably way too much. After disposing of the tin and washing her hands, she moved over next to Mike. “How’s dinner coming along?” The mouthwatering aromas of comfort food filled the kitchen.

  “It’s ready. Take a seat and we’ll serve.” Mike waved toward the table, which had been set for three places using her preferred napkins.

  When these guys did a job, there were no half measures. They’d studied her habits over supper last night, noted her preferences, and had committed that data to memory. That realization was damn sexy, and more than a bit daunting. What else hadn’t escaped their attention?

  Quinn’s firm hands came down upon her shoulders. “Sit. Tonight we’re looking after you.”

  He steered her to the table while Mike ladled stew into three bowls. She settled herself as buttery, warm biscuits and beefy stew were laid out. After pouring glasses of iced tea, Quinn was the last to sit down.

  The phone’s answering machine came on and Purdy’s voice was heard announcing her safe arrival home. She noted both Mike and Quinn’s nods of satisfaction.

  Tendrils of steam rose from the veggie-packed stew, tempting her to forget her manners and gobble down the hearty fare. Men who could cook, clean, and set a table. Not half bad.

  “Dig in, honey.” Quinn lifted his spoon and proceeded to follow his own advice.

  She didn’t need further encouragement. On the first bite, the beef melted in her mouth. “Oh, man, this is so good.”

  Quinn nodded toward Mike. “While I’d love to take the credit, most of dinner is down to grumble guts here.”

  She glanced at Mike and dipped a feather-light biscuit in the gravy. “You’re a whiz in the kitchen. Did your mom teach you?”

  Mike’s snort lacked any humor. “Hardly. I learned to cook in the SEALs. One of my buddies was a qualified chef. Rodriguez taught me the basics. Bastard could make a crêpe suzette that melted on your tongue.” He shrugged. The dark growth over his jaw lent an air of sexy menace to the ex-sniper. “I never reached his league, but I get by.”

  Reagan licked a drop of gravy from her bottom lip. “You’ll have to tell him I appreciate his efforts.”

  A shadow cast over Mike’s face. “Can’t. Rodriguez bought it. Ramallah. Back in ’05.”

  Reagan lowered her spoon. She searched her mind for something to say, but an apology seemed trite.

  He’d sounded so matter of fact, kind of detached, yet his fisted grip on his spoon said different. How many buddies had he and Quinn lost during their years of service?

  “I can’t imagine how it must feel to lose a friend like that.” Who could, outside of another soldier?

  Mike shifted in his seat as if the chair pinched his sides. “That’s how it rolls. Death is a constant companion on the teams.” His gaze stayed trained on his bowl of rapidly cooling stew.

  Nevertheless, they’d made it back alive. Mike injured, sure, but alive. For that she thanked God. There was so much about them that remained a mystery. It was time for her to fill in some of those blanks.

  “And now you’re both investigators for big business. What made you guys head in that direction?”

  Quinn leaned back against his chair, his bowl now empty. “Both our re-up dates were close. Mike’s injury took care of his decision and influenced mine. I decided I’d had enough. It was time to come home, make a new life.” His fingers traced the rim of his glass of iced tea. A tiny bead of water ran down the outside, racing to hit the table only to be swept up at the last moment by a flick of his finger.

  “Once Mike got stateside, my family descended on Walter Reed hospital. Between Momma, my sisters, and the nurses, Mr. Congeniality here was set to explode.” His cheeks creased with a smile. “When he was discharged, we accepted Noah and Flynn’s offer to hide out at King’s Haven. I had to save my buddy from the women in my family.”

  Mike’s chuckle sounded dry, as if it was dragged out of him, kicking and spitting. “You encouraged their fussing, asshole.”

  Quinn flicked his friend the bird. “We’d just settled here when we got a call. Our old team leader needed assistance in a private matter. We had some skills he felt would be useful, so we took the commission. They were satisfied with our work and passed our names to their business contacts. Things grew from there.”

  Mike’s spoon clattered against the bottom of his bowl. “That was all down to Quinn. I sat on my ass and nursed a laptop.” He stared at Quinn as he spoke, as if daring his friend to dispute his words.

  Quinn’s shoulders visibly tensed. “We’re a team. You’ve covered for me in the past. We’re even.”

  Judging from the tic pulsing in Mike’s jaw, he disagreed. Did he think he wasn’t pulling his own weight? The speed of his recovery had amazed many in the town. She’d witnessed for herself his demon-like commitment to rehab that had seen him progress from crutches to a walking stick, until he could stride unaided. Some days she forgot about the slight limp in his right leg.

  It seemed Mike didn’t forget.

  “This former team leader, he’s one of the guys looking at establishing the lodge, right?” They’d mentioned them yesterday at the barbecue.

  “Correct. Alex and Kane MacKenzie. They were both SEALs. Different teams.” Mike wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Their plans for the lodge will provide employment opportunities for locals.”

  “I’d like to hear more about those plans sometime.” Jobs were scarce around here. Any new business that could bring steady work and tourists to the area needed serious evaluation.

  “Employment isn’t the only thing they’d be offering at the lodge.” Quinn’s hooded gaze roved over her, as if he was stripping the clothes right off her body one garment at a time.

  “Oh?” She wiggled in her seat. Was it wrong, thinking that way and not ignoring the tingling warmth between her legs? Maybe for now she could push the events of this morning and the past away, if only for a couple of hours, and allow herself to enjoy the guys’ company.

  Quinn’s mouth quirked at the edges. “The brothers are both Doms and have never hidden t
he fact. They turned their family fortune from millions into a billion and don’t give a damn what anyone thinks of their private life. Having their own BDSM club on the same land as the lodge is a natural fit. Many of the lodge’s guests would be high-end lifestylers.”

  “A BDSM club?” She blinked. “We’ve never had one in town. I mean, I’ve heard rumors of private parties, but not a club.”

  So the locals would benefit in more ways than employment. How many times had she overheard members of the Book Babes wish they had a club nearby? With a healthy proportion of the town practicing the BDSM lifestyle, added with the lodge’s paying guests, a club should, on the face of it, be sustainable. And having a safe environment for play and further learning from fellow enthusiasts was ideal.

  Mike lowered his glass of iced tea. “The MacKenzies’ plan to offer membership to locals at a discounted rate. All applicants, guests of the lodge or general public, would undergo a secure vetting procedure. The club’s facilities aren’t for drunks turning up for the chance of seeing a half-naked woman tied to a St. Andrew’s Cross.”

  “With you guys carrying out these background checks?” It made sense.

  Quinn nodded. “It’s been discussed.”

  “And you’d become members too, right?” And play there with gorgeous, slim subs trained in the ways to please a Dom. Those MacKenzies would probably fly subs in from all over for their rich guests.

  They’d take one look at her country bumpkin single-braided hairstyle and comfy clothes and dismiss her out of hand. She had no training as a sub. Could she undertake courses in kneeling? Did she even want to? With her bad knees, she’d get down and never be able to get up again.

  “Sugar, what are you thinking?” Quinn’s gazed narrowed when she shrugged. “Try again.” His voice crystalized hard.

  Her breath caught in sharp thrill at his order. “This new club, it would have some of its own subs?”

  Mike reached for her hand, his grip warm and surprisingly soothing as his thumb stroked over the inside of her wrist. “Maybe. But there’s only one sub we’re interested in.”

  “You.” Quinn’s eyes shone with a determination that mocked the trace of laughter in his voice.

  “On that subject we should chat.” Easing her hand out of Mike’s grip, Reagan pushed her empty bowl away.

  She glanced at both men as they leaned back in their chairs, their bodies relaxed, Quinn with his hands on his thighs and Mike with his body turned slightly toward her, one arm resting on the back of the chair.

  They remained silent, as if sensing her need to speak first.

  “I feel we have things left unsaid from last night. After this morning everything seemed to go kind of crazy.”

  “You’ve had one hell of a day,” Mike stated in his usual candor.

  She huffed a laugh. “True.”

  “Reagan, say what’s on your mind before you twist yourself into one giant knot,” Quinn said.

  “I don’t know yet what last night was for me. I mean, it was more than sex. There’s something, a bond…some connection between all three of us. I feel like I set out to dip my toe in the stream and ended up taking a dive off a cliff into churning waters. And it’s wonderful and thrilling and everything I’d hoped it could be. But then this morning…” She dragged a hand through her hair. “I just don’t know where I’m headed now. The news of Mom—” She broke off, took a breath.

  Quinn tilted his head to the side. “The connection you’re feeling with us has built up over the last months, even as you danced your pretty ass as far away from us as possible.” His features softened as he stared first at the tight grip of her clasped hands and then back to her face. “Caleb’s news was devastating. No denying it. But it’s separate to what we’ve started.”

  Mike joined in. “Our position hasn’t changed. We want to continue getting to know you, learning all about you in ways possible only by sharing time together.”

  “I know, but I need things to go slowly. I realize Mom didn’t disappear yesterday. It’s been years. In many ways, I mourned her loss long ago. But at no time did I imagine her m–murdered.” She’d never get used to saying that word.

  “Of course not.” Mike’s softer tone drew her gaze. “We’ll take this one day at a time.”

  “You won’t fight me on this?” She glanced from one man to the other.

  Quinn’s wide chest lifted with his sigh. “Sugar, there’s a difference between being stubborn and an idiot. Last night you took a leap of faith, not only in yourself but us as well. We’re not about to fuck that up.”

  “At the same time, we’re not settling for chaperoned hand-holding, either.” Mike’s gaze pierced her with its dark intensity. “We’re determined to build on what we started last night. Give us honesty and we’ll respect your boundaries, both sexual and emotional. Keep in mind, we’re Doms. Sometimes we’ll stretch your limits, but we’d never push you past the line that you feel real fear.” He lowered his arm from the back of the chair and straightened. Even sitting he seemed to tower over her, enhanced by the power of his commanding personality.

  “I guess I’m forewarned.” Her wry chuckle was a release valve, lessening the pressure in her chest.

  “There’s always a dignified early surrender.” Mike’s mouth tipped up at one corner.

  “Not up to the chase?” No way was she going down easily.

  Mike’s eyes darkened. “Sweetness, we’ve spent our adult lives chasing our target. Go ahead, tease all you want. Tonight you’re safe. It’s all about spoiling you. Tomorrow, you’re fair game.” Like a jaguar stretching out and idly watching his prey, he once again leaned back into his seat.

  A fluttery sensation filled her belly. Chased. Caught. By them. She could feel her nipples harden and rub against her bra.

  “About tonight. After the shock you’ve received today, we don’t want you here alone this evening. Mike has to head back to our cabin on King’s Haven, but I’ll stay. I can bunk in the spare room if you’d prefer. Either way, you’ve got company.”

  Truthfully, she didn’t want to be alone tonight, but damned if she’d let them think they could get away with the macho thing every time.

  “I’m not some helpless little girl, Quinn.”

  “Indeed, you’re not. You’re an intelligent woman with a fantastic sense of humor who fights for what she believes in. All the things we desire from a lady. That said, your day’s been hell. And we want to make sure you’re okay.

  “Fine.” But he wouldn’t have it all his own way. “I’ll make up the spare bed.”

  “Already done.”

  “When?” Her raised brows drew deep chuckles.

  “You ladies were taking half an hour to say good-bye, first Chloe and then Purdy. We capitalized on that diversion.”

  “I’m going to have to be on my toes around you, aren’t I?”

  Quinn’s face remained impassive. “Not unless we order you to.”

  Her mouth dropped open.

  Their rich laughter boomed about the kitchen.

  Mike rose out of his chair, his eyes gleaming with leftover laughter. “Woman, kiss me good night so I can leave Quinn with the dirty dishes.”

  A quick glance at the wall clock showed it was close to seven. “It’s still early.” She rose from the table and wound her arms around the hard firmness of his torso. It somehow felt natural, as if they’d been dating for years.

  The warmth from his chest seeped through the thin layer of her sweater.

  He cupped her face, his fingers sliding into her hair. “And you’re tired.” His thumbs swept across her cheekbones and up into her hairline as he massaged her scalp.

  She moaned and leaned into his body, drawn in closer by the firm pressure of his touch. Tingles spread over her scalp and then down across her shoulders as his fingers weaved through her hair. Trailing a slow path down to the top of her nape, he kneaded away the remaining tension until she swayed against him, drunk on relaxation.

  Keeping a firm one-h
anded grip on her neck, he used his other hand to raise her chin. “Look at me, little reader.”

  She opened her eyes, blinking like one of the sleepy puppies she’d cuddled at the animal shelter. Two more blinks and Mike came into focus. Damn, he looked good in stubble.

  Laugh lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. “Girl, you’re about ready to crumble.”

  “It’s your fault. You’re great at massage.”

  “And so much more.” His mouth descended on hers with a hardness that didn’t abate. Seconds passed. He made no move to open his mouth and use his tongue, just held her in his kiss, locked against him. The simplicity of the intimate act bound her to him tighter than any rope in that wickedly loaded gym bag of theirs.

  Slowly and with a low groan, he broke away. Smoothing down her hair, he dropped a kiss on her forehead then stepped back, forcing her arms to drop by her sides.

  It took all her self-control not to hold on and drag him close. She glanced around the kitchen. There were a few dishes in the sink and the stew in the Crock-Pot but not much to clean up.

  “You guys cooked a lovely meal. I should at least load the dishwasher.” Reagan reached for their bowls.

  Quinn’s fingers curled around her wrist, his grip firm. “No. We said we’re looking after you tonight. When we say something, we mean it.”

  That voice. Deep. Masterful. Oh, Lordy, when he spoke in that tone, she wanted to rub herself up against him like those eager puppies.

  “You need an early night.” Quinn nodded toward the doorway. “Head to the bathroom and I’ll meet you there.” Letting go of her wrist, he turned her around. “Be naked.”

  Smack. Heat spread over her left butt cheek. She jumped. He didn’t! Mouth open, she spun around.

  “You spanked me.” Wow, her voice went that high? The tingle on the skin covering her bottom morphed into a teasing burn, taunting her to skim her fingers over her butt cheek in some kind of curious wonder.

  “Want another?” Challenge marked the curve of his brow.

  “Without your jeans.” Mike’s gravel-rough threat came way too close from her right.