by Amanda Boone
Jenna wasn’t sure that explained it, but she let the explanation go in favor of a different question. “You’re a photographer?”
He nodded. “It’s what I come up here to do. Barrett just tags along because he’s antisocial.”
His smirk made the teasing obvious. The dark look Barrett gave him was ruined by the barest upward twitch at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s not so much that,” Barrett said, with a conspiratorial wink that looked a lot like flirting to Jenna, “as it is that it’s impossible to get a word in edgewise around Art.”
It was Arthur’s turn to glare. He did it much more convincingly. Jenna laughed.
“So what do you come up here for, Barrett?”
Intent brown eyes settled back on her face.
“I’m a writer. I come up here for inspiration.” He grinned, shooting a look at the other man from the corner of his eye before he looked back at her, smile widening lazily. “Art relentlessly quashes it.”
Arthur reached over and slapped him lightly across the back of the head, and a minute later they were rolling around in the grass, laughing. Jenna rolled her eyes skyward. Men.
They did look good like that, though, muscles rippling under their shirts as they wrestled. She leaned back on her hands and watched them. Barrett, unsurprisingly, seemed to be having a bit of a rougher time than Arthur was, and in a few minutes he was pinned against the ground, panting. For a moment, they lingered there, staring at each other, still huffing out occasional breaths of laughter, and then Arthur rolled off and sat back down. His expression was smug.
“Never going to win, Barrett,” he said as his companion scrambled upright. “I keep telling you that.”
Barrett grinned at Jenna. “He’ll get old and slow first. I’ll have the upper hand one of these days.”
“Watch yourself,” Arthur growled. “Or you won’t live to see me get old and slow.”
“You see?” Barrett said. “He’s a tyrant.”
Arthur gave him a narrow-eyed look, but he was already sliding across the grass to sit nearer to Jenna, close enough that she could feel the warmth from his body.
“If you think she’s going to hide you, I think you’re mistaken.”
The sidelong look Barrett gave her then was definitely flirting.
“Not at all,” he told Arthur. “She’s just better looking than you are.” Another grin directed her way. “And she smells nicer.”
“Flattery,” Jenna said, “will get you everywhere.”
Arthur just stared at Barrett until he laughed—a low, surprisingly husky sound—and dipped his head, looking up through his eyelashes, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. Typical country boy, Jenna thought, hiding a smile of her own. They all did that, she’d discovered, no matter which state they were from.
“So if I flatter you,” Arthur said, turning his gaze from Barrett to Jenna. “Will you let me sit beside you too?”
Somewhere, there had been a shift in the mood. It had happened, imperceptibly, between this moment and the last, and Jenna could feel the change like static charge in the space between them.
She smiled. “The more the merrier.”
Chapter Four
“You are,” Arthur said as he settled down on her other side, “a very beautiful woman.”
Jenna crossed her legs beneath her and looked expectantly at him. “Go on…”
"And you do smell good," Barrett said, his voice closer than it had been. "Really good."
She turned and looked at him, still grinning. "You used that one already."
"He reused what I said about you being beautiful and you let him do it."
"He changed the wording enough. You said I'm better looking than Arthur. He didn't compare me to anyone."
Barrett was quiet a moment, thoughtful.
"I think you have the best legs I've ever seen," Arthur said, shifting a little nearer.
Jenna turned her head to look at him, her smile widening.
"What is this? Compliment Jenna from every side time?"
"That's exactly what it is," Barrett said behind her, and she could hear the pleased amusement in his voice this time. "Especially if flattery will get us where we want to go."
She turned and found him sitting near enough that the heat from his body radiated against her side, his arm almost touching hers.
"And where is that?" she asked, knowing already where it was and more than on board with the situation.
"Oh," Arthur said, leaning in so that she felt the warmth of his breath against the nape of her neck in a way that made her shudder, his body close against hers. "I don't think you need to be told that."
Jenna eased back against his chest, and his arm wrapped around her waist, one big hand settling on her hip.
"No," she agreed. "I guess I don't."
"We have a very large, very comfortable tent," Barrett said, laying a hand on her knee and sliding it slowly upward until Arthur's hand caught it and stilled it.
"And if you would like to go there," Arthur said, "we'll gladly take you, before this goes any further."
"Unless you'd rather stay here," Barrett said.
"You two may be impervious to cold, but there is no way I'm getting naked out here where it's fifty degrees," Jenna said.
Arthur slid away from her, and when he stood he offered her his hand. "We'll go find somewhere warmer, then."
She took the hand and let him help her up, catching her bag on the way and slinging it over her shoulder.
It would have given her mother a fit, to see her heading off with two guys she barely knew, but Jenna wasn't really concerned about her mother's opinion this far away from Seattle. She followed Arthur down the hill and into the trees, Barrett walking just a step behind and to the left of her.
"How much longer will you be here?" she asked as they walked, pitching her voice loud as they had before, to warn the animals away from their path.
"Another two weeks or so," Arthur answered, turning his head slightly so that she could see his profile. "Then we're headed south. Maybe to Yellowstone. Maybe somewhere else. You?"
"Just short of two weeks," Jenna said. "I got in last night. I wish I had longer, but I have to go to work, unfortunately, and my schedule isn't nearly as forgiving as a photographer's. Or a writer's."
"You know," Barrett said, "people think that, but unless you're writing the kind of stuff that pays thousands at a go, you're writing all the time. And it's not as forgiving as you might think."
Down on the flatland, they moved to walk a little nearer to each other, strolling through the trees more or less side by side, though Arthur still led.
"The tent isn't too much farther," Barrett said. "It's pretty roomy. Not very inconspicuous, we guess, but you can only fit two grown men in one of those little backpacker things for so long."
Jenna's tent—one of those little backpacker things—was barely large enough to fit a single person. She understood the sentiment.
"Well, you can fit two grown men and a grown woman into one of those little tents for even less time," she said. "So I promise not to report you to the ultralight outdoorsman police or anything. Anyway, I don't even think Arthur's shoulders would fit through the door of my tent."
"Arthur's shoulders barely fit through regular doorways," Barrett said, not quite managing a straight face.
Arthur shot a look back at both of them that said he'd quite clearly heard their conversation and didn't appreciate the direction it was going. Jenna looked expressionlessly back at him, but she only managed to hold the laughter until he looked away again, and then it spilled out, Barrett's following. It shouldn't have been that funny, really, she thought as she laughed, but there was a giddy sort of edge to the proceedings. She'd never just decided to have a one night stand with two hot guys before, after all. It was kind of an invigorating experience. And so maybe she was laughing a little more than she should, but she didn't think they would mind.
Barrett didn't seem to. He was smi
ling at her when the laughter died down and she turned to look at him, and the warmth in his expression made her cheeks heat a little. She looked down. His hand settled on her shoulder, drawing her in nearer, and they walked like that for a while, side by side with their hips bumping lightly against each other at each step. It was a pleasant way to walk, Jenna thought, that slight contact rekindling the anticipation that had settled a little as they left the hilltop.
The tent was not at all far, maybe even a little less than the mile they had initially suggested, though at their leisurely pace they did not reach it for nearly half an hour. As they walked, they talked, and Jenna learned that Barrett had grown up in Wyoming, which definitely explained the country boy thing he had going on. Arthur was from Alaska, near Juneau. They’d met a few years ago, in Katmai, when Barrett had visited for the first time.
“It’s actually kind of a funny story,” Barrett said, leaning in close so that Arthur wouldn’t hear him. His lips nearly brushed the curve of her ear, and a pleasant little shiver ran down her spine from the warmth of the whisper against her skin.
“If by funny story you mean he stumbled into the middle of a shot I’d been waiting to get for an hour and completely ruined it, then yes,” Arthur said from up ahead of them, “it is a funny story.”
Barrett dipped his head again, his grin a little amused behind its self-deprecation.
Through the trees, Jenna could see the curves of a tent, and she leaned a little closer against Barrett, suddenly a little nervous. She’d never done anything like this before, really. The couple of guys she’d slept with in college had already been friends, and in grad school she’d been too busy to date. She’d had a tryst or two out in the backcountry, but never with complete strangers, never with two men at once. Anticipation tangled with nerves in her stomach.
They all tugged their boots off outside the tent, and then Barrett swept the door back with one arm and waved her in. In one corner, neatly packed away, she saw their gear, including Arthur’s camera. On the other side of the tent, taking up most of the space, where two oversized sleeping backs, pushed close enough together that they almost touched. Arthur moved past her and pulled them nearer to each other, to make a space where three people could comfortably fit together, and Jenna somehow found herself kneeling in the middle of it.
She realized with a little surprise that she was trembling as a pair of muscled arms wrapped around her from behind, and Barrett’s chin settled against her shoulder.
“You okay?” he asked softly. “You know that if you want to call it off, you can.”
Jenna shook her head. “No. I mean. I am okay. I don’t want to call it off. I’ve just never done this before. It’s a little overwhelming.” She flashed a smile at Arthur that she hoped Barrett would hear in her voice.
“Don’t worry. We’ll take care of you.”
Those big, warm hands began moving over her, exploring the curves of her waist and hips, stroking her stomach. He reached up and caught the zipper pull on her jacket, drawing it down until she could let the coat fall from her shoulders. The thin, long-sleeved shirt she wore beneath followed, joining her jacket with their gear in the corner.
Barrett didn’t take her t-shirt off yet, just resumed his exploration over its worn fabric. He was shirtless, she realized, as she felt him press closer against her, and suddenly she wanted to see.
Arthur, she noted as she turned, had settled himself at the head of the makeshift bed, and was sitting with his hands on his knees, his legs crossed beneath him, watching them. He looked, she thought, like he wanted to get out his camera.
Barrett was as muscled under his shirt as she had imagined he would be, bronzed there too like he often went around without it, even this deep into fall in the far north. She ran her hands up the muscles of his abs and felt him shudder a little under the touch, heard his breath catch. On his right bicep was a tattooed band of pine silhouettes, reflecting off each other as though the top line of them stood at the edge of water. Jenna reached out and touched that too, feeling the smooth, warm skin under her hands.
Chapter Five
Barrett's hands on her hips turned her gently, and she wondered if he'd done this before, because the new position was specifically to give Arthur a better view as he laid a hand against her cheek and guided her up for a kiss that was slow and deep and a little showy. Not that she minded. She could feel Arthur's eyes on them, and it made her want to look good for him. She arched up into Barrett's chest, pressing them closer together, and then wrapped an arm around his neck on the side that wouldn't obstruct Arthur's view. When the kiss broke, they went back for more, the soft sounds of them moving together seeming loud in the quiet tent.
Barrett pulled back then, and his fingers curled around the hem of her t-shit, though he didn't lift it yet. He looked up at her, waiting for her to nod, and then he dragged it slowly upward, and Jenna lifted her arms to let him pull it over her head, her skin breaking out in goosebumps. She wasn't sure whether that was from the chill, or from the way she could feel Arthur's gaze moving up her body, lingering on newly revealed skin. Her simple white bra wasn't exactly the stuff of lingerie catalogue daydreams, but she didn't really think either of them minded, if the way Barrett's hands were running flat-palmed up her stomach to curl around her still clothed breasts were anything to go by.
He kissed her again. Heat was settling at the base of her spine. She was already wet, already wanting, and she pressed into the kiss with the same hunger that she could feel at the edge of the gentle contact from his end.
"More," she breathed against his mouth, and she heard him growl softly.
His hands reached down, fumbling for a moment with the button of her jeans, and then she was lifting up and sliding out of them, kneeling there in her underwear. She followed his example, unfastening his jeans, but he didn't take them off yet, just let them slide down low on his hips, revealing the cut of muscle that arrowed lower, and Jenna's tongue slipped out to wet her lips.
Barrett was turning her again, this time to face Arthur while he settled in behind her, his hand gently but implacably pulling her thigh open so that she knelt with her knees set wide and the support of his body at her back.
"Look at me," Arthur said.
Swallowing, Jenna raised her eyes to his face. His own dark eyes were fixed on her, and he smiled as she looked at him, settling some of the new nerves that being so blatantly on display had woken.
"You're beautiful," he said, the way he had up on the hill, his voice with a husky edge that hadn't been there then.
Hands were moving up her body, following the curve of her waist as though to emphasize it, and then Barrett was pulling back enough to unfasten her bra, and Jenna let him pull it off and toss it aside. The air of the tent was slowly warming, but was still cool enough that her nipples hardened as soon as they were exposed to the chill. She breathed out slowly, then caught it back in with a gasp when Barrett's hands cupped the weight of her breasts and his thumbs stroked across her peaked and sensitive nipples.
"You smell," he said, nose brushing against the curve where her neck met her shoulder, "like summer."
"Like summer?" she returned, teasing, if a little breathless.
She felt him nod. "Like the way the grass smells in the sun, and like ripe berries."
No one had ever told her that before, but she thought she liked it. She looked down at his hands, at the contrast between his sun-darkened skin and the paler, softer skin of her breasts. The air in the room shifted, and she looked up to find Arthur nearly close enough to touch. He grinned at her, a quick flash of white teeth.
"I was going to wait, but then I decided that waiting is entirely overrated."
His hands settled on her hips, bigger even than Barrett's, and maybe a little warmer, the calluses on his fingers rough against her skin in just the right way. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the curve of her neck, and she let her head fall back against Barrett's shoulder while Arthur mouthed his way up her throat,
occasionally biting gently. She whimpered a little when his teeth nipped at the soft spot under her jaw, arching into Barrett's hands because he'd caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger and tugged on them.
Arthur smiled against her skin. One of his hands slid down, pressed up against her through her underwear. But he didn't move, didn't give her any friction, and she rocked her hips, writhing against him, hoping for more.
"Yeah," he breathed, moving back down to lick at her collarbone. "Come on. You want it, take it, babe."
Jenna felt her cheeks heat, but she rocked down again against his hand, and he rewarded her by pressing up a little more firmly, the tips of his fingers dragging against her clit as she moved, and Jenna's hips hitched.
"You look good like this," Barrett said, lips brushing against her hair as he spoke.
His hands were moving, kneading—just enough pressure to make her want more. He occasionally stopped to flick at her nipples with the tip of his finger, or to rub his thumb over them until she writhed on Arthur's hand.
Abruptly, the touch was gone. Jenna whimpered a little with the loss, but Arthur's hands were on her hips, lifting her, and then she was in his lap. He'd unfastened his jeans, and unlike Barrett he had pulled them off, along with his underwear. And when he had he done that? She didn't really care. Her hands followed the ripple of muscle under his skin the way she had with Barrett. Like Barrett, he was tattooed, a swirl of sharp-edged tribal designs that started on his right shoulder and ran down to his forearm. On his left pec was the black mark of a bear's paw.
Jenna leaned in for a kiss and he gave it to her. His kisses weren't slow. They were hard and deep and claiming, and Jenna was really, really okay with that. She settled into his lap, arms around his neck, feeling the hard line of his erection through the thin fabric of her underwear. He groaned into her mouth when she rocked against it. Barrett, behind her, was scattering kisses across her shoulders, his hands resting with Arthur’s over the curve of her hips.
