by Pam Godwin
I swallow and look at Trace. “I’m still wearing your ring. Do you—?”
“I’ll marry you today. Right now.” Trace licks his lips, his eyes wide and unblinking. “My path has never been this clear, my future never so beautiful.”
“Thank you.” My stomach flutters. “I’m just going to talk through this, because I really don’t know what I’m going to say.” I flex and relax my hands. “Just…let me speak without interrupting me, okay?”
They’re both perched on the edge of their cushions. Cole shifts first, seemingly forcing himself to recline and loosen up. A heartbeat later, Trace follows suit.
“The way I see it, I have three options.” I stare down at my hand. “Option one. I return one of these rings and end that relationship. Then I plan a wedding with the one I keep.”
A wave of tension ripples through the room, and my pulse goes erratic. I breathe through it and continue.
“Option two. I return both rings and start over. Without you.” I glance between them, meeting their hardening gazes. “We go our separate ways, or at least, I do. I like to think you two could resolve your differences in that scenario.”
Cole works his jaw, and Trace’s mouth forms a flat line. I can tell they’re chomping at the bit to speak up, but they respect my wishes and remain silent.
“Option three.” I twist the bands on my finger, my throat scratchy. “I return both rings and start over. With you. Both of you.”
Cole adjusts his position, leaning forward then back while rubbing a hand over his mouth. Trace is still—calmly, eerily frozen.
I don’t want their reactions to influence me, because Bree’s right. Whatever choice I make should reflect who I am, not who they are.
“Part of me wants to put these options up for a vote.” I draw in a steeling breath and strengthen my backbone. “But I’m not going to do that. I’m going to put on my big girl pants and tell you how it’s going to be. Can you live with that?”
Their nods are stiff, but what shines from their eyes threatens to knock my feet out from under me. Pride, respect, loyalty—it’s all there in bright sheens of love. There’s a chance I’m about to destroy one or both of their worlds, and they still have it in them to look at me with admiration.
I grip the engagement rings, eyes on my trembling fingers as I rotate the bands around and around, aching to keep them right where they are.
Love has been good to me. It’s also been vicious and cruel. I don’t know what it plans to do to my heart next, but there’s a blessed kind of comfort in knowing it isn’t finished with me. I have to give up one of the men I love, but I don’t have to give up on love altogether.
I remove the first ring from my finger and hold it out to Cole. He sucks in a breath, and another, refusing to take it. His face turns stark white, and a horrified look seeps into his eyes.
I set it on the coffee table before him and slide off the second ring, offering it to Trace.
Trace’s throat bobs, and a tremor races through his fingers as he reaches for the band.
“I choose option three.” Nervousness crops up in my voice. “I want to start over. I want to date both of you.”
Tension visibly loosens from Cole’s shoulders, and he exhales softly.
Trace is harder to read. He closes his hand around the ring, and an indiscernible quietness falls over him. If he’s upset, I don’t blame him. He went from blissfully happy and engaged to this frightening place of uncertainty. In a way, it feels like I’m breaking up with him, and it makes my stomach erupt with dread.
“What’s the living arrangement?” Trace asks, low and hushed. “If you’re dating both of us.”
In my mind, dating two men requires separation. I need to be with them individually, not crammed together under the same roof.
“You’re moving back to the penthouse.” I lift my chin, bracing for an argument.
“And him?” Trace scowls at Cole and turns his glare back to me.
“Cole can get his own place or stay in the basement—”
“He’s not staying here!” Trace leaps to his feet, hands on his hips. “You’re not going to shack up with him while I—”
“Sit down and let me finish.” My shoulders tense as I wait for him to lower onto the couch. “I spend half of my waking hours at the casino, where you live. We’ve been going back and forth between here and your penthouse for months. I’m okay with continuing doing that for a while. But…” I narrow my eyes at both of them. “I’m not sleeping with you. Dating two men is complicated. Adding sex to this would be a disaster.”
As my words sink in, silence creeps through the living room, heavy with apprehension and maybe a little bit of relief. I’m doing this to give myself time, but it gives them time, too.
“For how long?” Cole lifts his head and meets my eyes. “How long will you date us?”
“Until I know.”
My chest feels like a lead balloon as I stand on the front porch, watching Trace put the last of his belongings in the trunk of the sedan.
I keep telling myself this isn’t the end. It’s the beginning of a new chapter. But if that’s true, why does it hurt so much?
Cole made himself scarce while Trace and his driver cleared his clothes out of my closet. I think it’s the first time any of Trace’s employees have been inside my house. It’s weird. Hell, this entire situation is dicked in the head. We love each other, and I’m kicking him out of my house, like we’re going backward.
Not backward. We’re starting over.
I clutch my throat, swallowing around a painful lump.
Trace shuts the trunk and opens the rear passenger door. I told him he had to leave, that he needed to go work and I would see him when I return to the restaurant tomorrow.
Today’s my day off, and I want to visit the homeless shelter. I haven’t been there since Cole came back.
Across the front yard, Trace lingers beside the open door of the sedan. The dark suit makes his blond hair look paler than normal, and his eyes are so light they shimmer in the sunlight.
I can’t see the emotion there, but I don’t have to. Every inch of his rigid posture vibrates with devastation. It’s killing him to leave me. To leave me here with Cole.
But I made these rules. Now I have to own them.
He flattens a hand over his necktie, as if to keep it from lifting in the chilly breeze. Then he turns and lowers into the backseat, making that hand on his chest look more like he’s holding a breaking heart.
My own heart gives a painful thump, and it pounds harder as he closes the door and disappears behind tinted glass.
He didn’t say goodbye, and now the car is rolling into motion, carrying him away from me.
Even though I made this happen, I can’t handle it. The sight of him leaving without giving me something to cling to—a whisper of hope, a tender touch—rises panic through me.
What if he’s in a car accident? What if he dies and I never see him again?
I fly off the porch, my bare feet racing through the cold grass and onto the quiet street. But I’m too late. He’s already a block away.
I keep running, chasing, aching for the confident strength of his arms around me.
The brake lights illuminate, and the sedan slows to a stop. My breath rushes out, my legs burning with exertion as I close the distance.
Then the sedan reverses, shrinking the gap, until the rear door opens. Trace’s long leg slides out before the car stops moving. But I’m already there, tumbling into the backseat and onto his lap.
“Danni.” His timbre is breathy and deep, fanning across my face.
I shut the door and straddle his thighs, panting, with my arms enfolding his neck and my forehead resting against his.
He combs his fingers through my hair, runs his hands up and down my back, and lifts them to frame my face.
I get a glimpse of sad blue eyes a millisecond before his mouth covers mine. My pulse skitters at the warm, soft, delicious feel of his lips.
His fingers drift into my hair and tighten as his tongue traces the seam of my mouth. I open for him, inviting him with hungry licks and whimpers.
He takes over, angling my head and plunging deeper, faster, his urgency apparent in the clench of his hands and the flexing muscle beneath his suit.
And just like that, I’m wildly aroused, like he injected lighter fluid in my veins. One touch below my neck and I’ll catch fire. It’s all I can do to keep from wriggling on his thickening cock.
He delves inside my mouth, sweeping with expert strokes, controlling the pace and depth, and demanding I meet the frantic rub of his tongue. A groan reverberates from his lips, and I devour it, unable to catch my breath or control the beat of my heart.
My chest swells with peace and happiness, but it’s also filled with fear. I don’t know what will become of us. I only know that what we have doesn’t come around very often, and by some miracle, I managed to capture this rare, wonderful thing with two men. I can’t let go.
“I didn’t mean to get you worked up.” I trail a path of kisses over his smooth cheek. “I just wanted…I needed to make sure you know I love you.”
“I know, Danni.” He nibbles on my ear lobe. “But I never tire of hearing it.” His embrace constricts, pressing me impossibly tighter against his chest. “All I can think about is you kissing him like that.”
“Think of it this way. We just shared the last kiss of our first relationship. Cole got one of those four years ago.” I push back until his arms loosen. “We’re starting over. Right now.” I slide off his lap and kneel on the seat beside him. “This is ground zero.”
The muscles in his face tense.
“I’m going to go slow.” I touch his jaw. “With both of you. It’s a new beginning and…” A smile pulls at my lips. “I have a feeling this beginning will be a thousand times better than our last one.”
He closes his eyes, but I don’t miss the shadow of guilt in the depths.
“I love you, Trace Savoy.” I open the door and back out of the car. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Not nearly as much as I love you.” He reaches out and grazes a knuckle beneath my chin. “And I’m counting down the minutes.”
With a nod, I close the door.
This time, when the car motors away, I don’t feel as panicky. The sensation is still present, gnawing inside my stomach, but he knows I love him. He knows this isn’t over.
I hurry back to the front yard, my toes turning purple in the nippy air. But instead of heading toward the front door, I veer down the driveway alongside my house, expecting to find Cole outside.
Sure enough, he crouches beside his motorcycle, surrounded by a clutter of tools.
He looks up at my approach, his face lined with unbridled interest as he scans me from feet to tits, making a slow study of my skinny jeans and off-the-shoulder sweatshirt. When he finally lifts his eyes to mine, I’m standing a few feet away with my eyebrows arched.
“When do you start your new job?” I ask.
“In a couple days.” He rises to his full height and wipes his hands on a rag.
He’s not as tall as Trace, but he’s still almost a head taller than me.
I angle my neck to hold his warm gaze. “Got any plans today?”
The shake of his head is slow and somewhat absent, like he’s not really paying attention to my words. It’s the flirty smile that makes me suspicious. Whatever he’s thinking is private in nature and probably dirty as hell.
I’m reminded that he hasn’t had sex in over four years. Without Trace here, it’s going to be a harrowing test of will to keep all that pent-up hunger out of my bed.
A sigh ripples past my lips. “There’s somewhere I need to be. Do you want to see what I’ve been up to while you’ve been gone?”
“I’d love to.” His smile explodes in shards of light, popping his dimples and vanishing the shadows between us. “Where are we going?”
“Anticipation—”
“Heightens the pleasure.” He winks, making me melt. “We’ll take the bike.”
“I hoped you’d say that.”
“Let me clean up, and I’ll be ready to go.”
Fifteen minutes later, I wait for him in the driveway, huddling against the chill in the faux-leather jacket, gloves, and boots he gave me shortly after we met. Black leggings, made to look like leather, complete my outfit.
I’m not a biker chick, but I always felt kind of badass when I rode behind him dressed like this. I’m giddy with excitement to experience that nostalgic rumble between my legs. God, it’s been so long.
He steps out, carrying our helmets, and covered neck to toe in faded denim and leather. With an animal of prey in his movements and a glowing fire in his eyes, this is the man I met on the street all those years ago. I’m as lost in his potency now as I was then, shivering against a frenzy of surreal emotions. I never thought I’d see him again, let alone ride on the back of his bike.
Setting his half-helmet on the seat, he lifts mine and adjusts it on my head. He takes care to gather my hair down my back, his fingers tenderly gliding across my face and along my neck, prickling my skin with goosebumps.
The gentle touches are so chaste for Cole, a sign that he’s capable of behaving himself. But for how long? He’s never had to restrain himself with me, and I wonder if this celibacy rule will eventually break him.
“Did you encounter beautiful women while you were away from me?” I chew on the corner of my lip.
His hands still on the straps that dangle beside my face, his expression perplexed.
“Yes,” he says cautiously. “Why do you ask?”
My mouth has no filter. That’s why. “I’m not trying to be accusatory. I’m just curious about the time you spent away from me.”
He has an insatiable sex drive. How has he gone so damn long without? Surely, he was tempted.
“I already told you, Danni. There’s been no one else.” His tone resonates with all the nuances of we’re done talking about this.
“I’m sure there was someone—”
“No.” He buckles the strap under my chin, yanking harder than necessary. “I love you. I want you and only you. The idea of touching another woman makes me sick.”
Yet I did more than touch someone else. I fell terribly in love with another man.
My chest aches, but I remind myself that our situations were different. I thought he was dead.
“You’re stunning.” He steps back and looks me over. “This was one of the fantasies I jacked off to.”
I glance down the length of my body, taking in my curvy shape in skin-tight black pleather. “This?”
“Yes, this. You bring a man to his knees.” He steps into my space, hands curling around my hips and his nose sliding along mine. “Do you still have your piercing?”
“That question might be too personal for a first date.”
“Is that what this is?” His fingers press hard against my butt. “A date?”
“If you want it to be.” I blink up at him.
“So submissive.” His voice is smoke and whiskey, his breath a mint-scented drug. “Fucking love that about you.”
He releases me, leaving me swaying in the wake of his rumbling timbre, as he puts on his half-helmet and swings a leg over the bike.
“Hop on, baby.” He angles his neck to watch me over the sloping ledge of his shoulder.
I place a hand on that thick muscle and slide up behind him, squeezing my thighs around his narrow hips.
I’m not an advocate for the leather industry—it’s unnecessary and inhumane—but I don’t mind smelling that wild distinct scent on him. It brings back so many wonderful memories of my nose buried in his jacket and my arms hugging his waist as he opens the throttle and arrows us through the wind.
He slides his hands back, molding his fingers around my thighs and yanking me closer to his back. “Where are we going?”
<
br /> “You need to eat.” I grip his legs, squeezing the lean muscle.
I’m worried about his weight loss. He’s still defined and hard as stone, but nowhere near as bulky as he was when I met him.
“I’d like to eat you.” He glances over his shoulder, brown eyes full of naughty intentions. “Is that on the menu?”
With a groan, I snuggle against his back and rest my helmet on his shoulder. “You’re not making this easy.”
“Loving you is easy. Everything else… Well, if it gets too hard…” He turns over the engine and raises his voice. “I’ll just love you harder.”
The cold wind whips through my hair and stings my cheeks as Cole zooms out of the neighborhood. He takes a corner, and I lean with him, plastered to his back and relishing the feel of gravity pressing the motorcycle toward the ground. There’s nothing in the world like the feeling of being wrapped up in Cole and putting my life in his very capable hands.
I’ve never been nervous or frightened riding on his bike. He’s proven his ability to maneuver through the physics of friction. And my God, he looks so damn sexy with all that raw power between his legs.
The way his strong fingers make quick twists of the throttle, the constriction of his muscles as he leans heavily into turns, and the heat of his body snug against mine on a cold day—it reminds me what it felt like to ride him.
As he shifts gears, the purr of the engine revs my excitement and fuels my senses. From the vivid green landscaping and the blinding blue sky to the architecture of old homes and the oily asphalt, the view from the bike gives me a renewed appreciation of the world around me.
It also puts me more in tune with him. I feel every twitch in his body, the tempo of his breaths, and play of his sculpted abs against my palms. I probably shouldn’t have slipped my hands beneath his jacket. But it feels so natural, so right, being with him in his element, on a bike, taking risks.
The smell of fresh bread tickles my nose as we approach Miller’s bakery. Can there be anything better? Only perhaps the scent of Cole’s skin after he’s made love to me for hours. But for now, I’m content with the bakery, and he seems to agree as he pulls into the parking lot.
