by Taryn Quinn
“You hated me when we first met.” I nudged my cock against the satin panel between her thighs. “You see how that turned out.”
“I didn’t really hate you. You just intimidated me. So big and pseudo-mean, when underneath you’re soft and squishy like brownie mix.”
“Why do I love you again?”
She licked her lips, raising her brows.
I grinned. “Yeah. You do have your special gifts.”
“As for the fifteenth, hmm, nothing. Why?” She wiggled beneath me. “Let me guess. Huge show? Oh God, who are you opening for now? Oblivion again? No, wait. Even bigger. The Killers? 30 Seconds to Mars? Mumford & Sons?”
I stared down at her, amazed at how she’d worked on expanding her musical knowledge for me. “What if I said Luscious Lovahboys, your favorite band ever?”
She made a face. “False. I was only watching them tonight to give you better memories to associate with their music other than fainting onstage because you were such a cute, panicked daddy-to-be.” The tip of her tongue peeked out between her teeth. “Like wild, hard, deep fucking.”
“Hell yeah. I like the sound of that. Even if you are trying to distract me from your love of my competition.”
“Is it working?”
Growling, I buried my face in the crook of her shoulder. “Let’s get married April fifteenth, smart ass.”
A tremor went through her, but she didn’t try to break free of my hold on her wrists. “Why then?”
I lifted my head. “So you have better memories to associate with that day than doing taxes?”
“Now who’s a smart ass, huh?” She slid out of my hold and reached down to pinch my butt. “Good thing I’m so stupidly in love with you I can’t see straight.”
I couldn’t stop my grin. “Yeah, good thing. And ditto.”
“I’ll marry you then on one condition.”
My heart started to roar in my ears just as it had when I’d stood on that stage and watched the spotlight bounce over her empty chair. Then again as the camera had found her in the hall outside the bathroom. Most of all, when I’d heard our son’s first cry, because I’d sneaked back into Maggie’s hospital room. Nothing could’ve kept me away from them in that moment.
Or any of the ones that came after.
“What’s that?”
“I want you to sing for me.” She leaned up to kiss me so gently I couldn’t help chasing her lips as she moved back. “To me.”
When I started to hum one of the songs on our new album, she grinned. “Love that one, but can I make a request?”
I groaned in mock distress. “Again with the Luscious Lovahboys?”
“Nah. I was thinking more like ‘I’m in Love with a Serial Killer.’”
I threw back my head and laughed.
Unwrapped
Chapter 1
When plotting to finally lose your virginity, it was important to keep your eye on the prize.
In this case, the one between her legs.
A relationship? Not necessary. But someone she trusted was a must.
Caitlyn Sachs blew out a breath and gazed around the kitchen in her mom’s small place. Relationships were tricky business, as evidenced by her mother and her sisters’ issues with their significant others. It was hard to find a decent guy, one who wouldn’t feed you a line and then vanish when you turned your back. At least that was all she’d seen while growing up.
At almost twenty-five, Cait’s record was virtually spotless. Sure, she’d gotten her heart dented a few times, but she’d managed to avoid the trainwreck relationships her friends and family had been sucked into.
And that still-happened-to-be-a-virgin thing? Merely a technicality, because she’d certainly done her share of messing around. She’d done almost everything but the deed itself.
Multiple times.
But hell, she was tired of having the expectation of her first time looming ahead. She knew it would probably be shitty, so she needed to get on to having good sex. Finally. Her irrational fear of an unplanned pregnancy was getting old. She’d gone on birth control as soon as she’d made the decision to have sex, and she’d insist on condoms too.
See, she was thinking practically.
“Marnie, settle those kids down. I can’t think with all this racket,” Mrs. Sachs said, bracing the hand that held her spatula on her hip.
“Jeez, Mama, what do you want me to do? Stuff something in their mouths?”
“Maybe. If it’ll quiet this place down, then yes.”
Cait braced her head on her hand and tried not to breathe in the scent of burnt onions and too much perfume.
She could be out Christmas shopping instead of dealing with the insanity of home. Home meant her younger sisters and their babies and her frustrated mother.
Cait understood frustration. Just not the same kind. Hers was all situationally based.
She sighed. Eh, she didn’t feel like shopping right now. Too much on her mind. But she could be getting a manicure. Maybe even seeing a movie with one of her best friends, assuming she could drag Tristan away from his desk or Matthew away from the game on TV. But no, she’d come home to do her duty, though at the moment she would’ve preferred to be anywhere else.
They were her guys. Her center in all ways. And maybe after this weekend, one of them would be that much more.
Perhaps one of them would be her lover, at least temporarily.
It wasn’t like she could choose between Matt and Tristan. She loved them both equally. Plus they were hot as hell. That the three of them lived together in the loft above Tristan Design, their graphic design business, only made it that much easier to coordinate. Slide in, slide out, cross the hall, and shut the door.
This weekend, she’d make her proposal. Whether that proposal would be well received was anyone’s guess, but she suspected that was part of why she felt so antsy tonight.
She needed to speak up before she chickened out.
Another reason she’d chosen to sleep with Tristan or Matt. This would be on her terms. She could control the parameters, say when it began and when it ended. They’d never push her.
In the meantime, she had to push herself and get home. She had a deflowering to arrange. Though in her case it wasn’t deflowering so much as a…deadheading. She grinned. Yeah, that worked. She’d be snapping off a worn-out worry she’d carried around way too long.
She rose to her feet as her mother and her sister Marnie started arguing about how they’d fit a nursery into an already crowded three-bedroom apartment. Before she could leave, her baby sister, Valerie, rushed through the back door into the kitchen, her golden hair hidden by her hooded sweatshirt. Under her arm she carried the basketball that seemed to be her constant companion. Keeping her eyes straight ahead, she jogged through without stopping.
“Val?” Cait hurried forward to grip her elbow. Out of all of them, Val was her favorite. At fourteen, Val was a straight-A student and already on the varsity basketball team. “Where’s the fire?”
“Gotta study,” she said, not meeting Cait’s gaze.
“Midterms week, huh? One reason Christmas sucks.” Smiling, Cait rubbed her shoulder. “Grades still good?” she asked, raising her voice above her mother and Marnie’s argument. Thank God her other sister Ginny had finally herded Marnie’s two kids and her own two into the living room. “Should we expect another perfect report card?”
Val yanked back her sweatshirt, revealing the sunny twin ponytails she usually hid under hoods and ball caps. “Grades are fine.”
Cait frowned. Normally Val was a chatterbox, but tonight she seemed unwilling to say much at all. Strange. Maybe the family drama was getting to her. “You know, you could always come stay with me at the loft for a couple of days,” she said in an undertone. “You could get more studying done.”
“No, thanks.” Val gave her big sister a weak smile. “I just lock myself in my room.”
“But you share a room with Ginny. How can you get any privacy?”
Val gave her an odd look. “Why would I need privacy? All I ever do is schoolwork and play basketball.”
That was a good thing at least. Val was so smart and pretty and athletic. God, she didn’t have to settle. And she wouldn’t, if her older sister had anything to say about it.
“Basketball going okay? I’ll be at the game on Sunday. Can’t wait to watch you guys destroy the Thundercats.” She grinned and waited for Val to grin back.
She didn’t.
“I’m not going to be playing Sunday,” she whispered.
“What? Why?”
“I got suspended from the team.”
Cait sucked in a breath and tried not to panic. “How come? What happened?”
“It’s no big deal. I’ll be able to play again after Christmas.”
“No big deal?” Basketball was Val’s life. Or it had been. “Games like this are what get the scouts interested. Even this early in your high school career, you need to start thinking about scholarships. You’re one of the best guards in the state. Believe me, colleges are already watching your performances.”
“It’s no big deal,” Val said again, brushing off Cait’s hand. “I’ve gotta study. See ya later.”
“Val—” Cait called as her sister tore out of the room, long ponytails flying.
She released a breath and forced herself not to run after her sister. Val was in ninth grade, and that was a tough year for even the most well-adjusted kids.
Somehow she’d get Val through whatever difficulty had led to her suspension. If Val wouldn’t tell Cait what was going on, she would call her coach directly. No matter what, she’d be there for her and get her back on the right path.
Cait glanced at her sister and her mother, who’d now moved their spat to the small pantry off the kitchen. Apparently that would be the location of the nursery.
Cait grabbed the box of breakables her mother had packed up for her and headed for the back door. Time to go.
On the way out of her mom’s parking lot, her cell chirped. She checked the readout and dutifully stopped the car, a smile already forming. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” Tristan’s warm voice flowed over the line. “Where are you?”
The sounds of a scuffle ensued, complete with colorful curses. “Yeah, where are you? And wherever it is, can you bring back food?” Matt chimed in, coaxing forth a laugh.
“You have a car. Go get your own takeout. What do I look like, your maid?”
“How about French maid? I can see you in one of those little black-and-white outfits. With one of those lacy things on your hair and a really short skirt --”
“Her skirts are already plenty short,” Tristan put in after yet another scuffle. “We thought you’d be around for dinner.”
“I headed out to my mom’s. Didn’t Matt tell you?”
“You know how he is. Half-witted.”
“If he didn’t spend all his time playing video games, he might eventually make it to a full three quarters,” she replied, knowing Matt would have some smart comment.
“Watch the insults,” Matt interjected. “Or else I’m going to torch all your clothes and fill up your closet with slut gear.”
She grinned and tried to ignore the typical flutter in her stomach at that word. Slut. If she knew anything, it was that Matt and Tris would never hurt her—with names or otherwise. “You again. Don’t you have anything to do but spy on personal phone calls?”
“Dickweed put you on speakerphone.”
“I feel the love.” She laughed. “Try not to go at each other too badly before I get home, ’kay?”
“We’ll try to control ourselves.” Tristan’s dry tone made her laugh again. “So how’s the fam?”
“They’re fine.” She wet her dry lips. “Um, I got some of Abe’s stuff done. Well, I started thinking about it anyway.”
“Thinking’s a definite plus. So you’re leaving us on our own tonight?”
She glanced out the windshield as icy flakes started to drift down from the dark gray sky. Nightfall came so early this time of year, and she really wasn’t a fan of driving around in snow. But she needed just a little more time.
“Not the whole night. I’ll be around in a while. Probably by ten.” Her growling stomach provided a handy excuse. “I’m going to go grab some food, but then I’d like to talk to you. If you have time.”
“I always have time for you. Have some right now, actually.”
“Oh sure, food. Right.” Matt let out a pitiful moan. “Leave us here to starve.”
She ignored Matt. “Nah, later’s good. Anytime this weekend works. It’s not urgent.”
Her hymen might say otherwise, but she’d chosen not to heed its silent screams. Since she’d waited this long, she could wait another few hours or even a day or two to have the big talk with her boys.
“Whatever works for you. I’m ready, willing, and able.”
Just like that, her mind zoomed into the gutter. She had no doubt at all how able Tristan was. Or little, anyway, since she couldn’t know for sure until she’d gotten him naked. But if imagination counted, she’d already slept with him a dozen times. Probably more.
“Thanks. I’ll see you in a bit. You boys be good.”
“Always. See ya.”
“Bad’s better,” Matt said just before she clicked off with a smile.
They were insane, both of them. Matt more so, but Tristan had his own streak of crazy. And she loved them so damn much.
After she’d roamed around the mall and run out of ways to stall, she headed back to the loft. It was nearly nine when she walked into the big open communal office area—currently devoid of her partners—that served as the headquarters of Tristan Design.
Three big desks formed a spaced-out L, making it easy for her to toss balled-up paper at Matt across the aisle. That Tris got annoyed at the paper waste increased her enjoyment. He was militant about keeping office expenses down. Anything else, spending-wise, was fair game. His wardrobe in particular. The guy had a suit for every damn day of the week. But when it came to equipment and supplies, he watched Cait and Matt like a hawk.
Not that they took him seriously. A couple of bats of her blue eyes and he was putty in her hands.
She grinned and set down the box from her mom’s on the counter of the kitchenette in back where they ate most of their lunches and just as many of their dinners. They worked late a lot, especially at this time of year. Everyone wanted to get their spring ad campaigns finalized before the end-of-the-year holidays, so Cait and Tris were designing their asses off. Matt, as their de facto tech guy-slash-accountant-slash-web designer, kept everything running smoothly.
Tomorrow she’d start the new series of ads they were designing for one of their biggest clients, Abe Donnelly of Donnelly Clothiers. She couldn’t wait. Abe always pushed her for the most cutting-edge layouts, and she relished rising to the challenge.
She glanced at her watch. Though it was still early, her friends weren’t anywhere in sight. Weird. So much for hoping to talk to Tristan tonight. The plan had been to mention her ideas for Abe’s project; then maybe if her nerve held, she’d segue into the discussion she hoped to have with him and Matt about other, more carnal matters.
She’d told them she wouldn’t be back until closer to ten, true, but she’d overestimated her ability to waste time driving around as the snow worsened. Of course if she hadn’t rushed out of her mom’s house, she wouldn’t have had that problem.
Her chest constricted, and she frowned. Yep, right on cue. She always got a case of the guilties after escaping back to her ordered, happy life.
She should’ve stayed longer. Her family drove her wacky sometimes, but she loved them. All of them. And it was almost Christmas. The kids were bouncing off the walls over Santa. At least the ones old enough to have a clue who Santa was, anyway.
Next time she’d stick around. Better yet, maybe she’d knock off work early tomorrow night and go take the kids to the movies. Give her sisters and her mom
a night off.
She yanked open the fridge door and poked her head in. Soda? Or better yet, something with kick? She grabbed a beer and uncapped it, sighing as the cold brew slid down her throat.
While she drank, she rummaged through the packages of snacks on the counter. Pretzels, meh. No diet food near Christmas. Why bother? She grinned and eyed an unopened bright orange bag. Cheese puffs were a much better option.
Tucking them under her arm, she stepped into the back hallway that led upstairs. All quiet. Even the stray kitty Tristan liked to feed wasn’t curled up in the box he’d set up for him to stay in on cold nights. Maybe Tris hadn’t been able to round him up tonight.
She smiled. It was always so cute to hear Tristan calling, “Hey, cat!” as he walked around outside with a handful of treats.
Cait ascended the spiral staircase, then stopped at the top to listen. For what, she wasn’t sure. The guys probably weren’t home. Maybe they’d gone out to grab a pizza. Or maybe one of them had had a last-minute date. It was Friday, after all. And they were sexy single guys.
Too single. Too sexy.
She wrinkled her nose. Not that she cared that they dated eagerly and often. Their hookup with her—whichever one of them turned out to be willing to aid in her virginity search-and-destroy mission—would be a one-time thing. Then all would return to normal.
Hey, if she got an orgasm or two out of the deal, she’d consider the maneuver a rousing success.
She strolled down the hall that branched off into three sections. Matt’s was first, hers in the middle. But instead of heading straight for her set of rooms, she hesitated.
It was too quiet. Unnaturally so.
A line of sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Slowly, she unwound her scarf. She’d forgotten to take off her outer clothes. No wonder she was hot. She had no reason to be nervous in her own house.
Did she?
Then she heard a heavy scraping sound, like furniture being moved, and she pressed her back to the wall. Oh God. She’d known something was wrong. The lights were off, so who the hell would be moving furniture? Maybe someone had broken in and overpowered the guys. They could be tied up even now or worse. Maybe the serial killer was rolling their bodies up in the rug in Tristan’s living room.
