Hating this and hating the idea of one winning and one losing, I break the connection by clicking my fingers in front of them.
Their eyes flash to me and I snap, “Stop it. That isn’t helping.”
Zane’s mouth is grim. White lines of tension bracket his usually passionate and mobile lips. In one smooth move, he stands. It’s the first time I’ve had a chance to look at all of him and my heart goes pitter-patter in my chest at the sight of his long, lean length.
Dressed all in black, black sweater, jeans, moccasins and sports jacket, he’s like a spy. He could have been there all night dressed as he is, and we’d never have seen him.
The idea of him witnessing Jake’s attention to my ass has heat flushing through me.
And even though I’m nauseated at what’s about to happen, I can’t help but be glad to see him.
My heart is sighing at the fact we’re in the same room.
Call me soppy but I’ve learnt love isn’t the most convenient of emotions. Wanting to see the person you love, needing to have them close…and when you can’t, it just plain hurts.
Zane’s absence from my life has hurt me and that what he’s seen this morning could permanently take him away from me, when it was intended to do the opposite, has panic roaring through my brain.
But once standing, it isn’t me he looks at. It’s Jake again.
“I want to talk to you in the salon.”
Jake nods, the brisk jerk of his head is met by a narrowed stare from his husband.
And then, Zane does something that shocks the hell out of me. As he rounds the bed to get to the door, a side that happens to be the one I’m sleeping on, he swoops down and captures my mouth. His tongue pushes into the crevice. I don’t even have a chance to wince at the idea of morning breath before he’s gone.
That one kiss tells me whatever is going through his head means I haven’t done something to sever what we have together.
When the door slams behind him, I turn to Jake. My eyes feel huge from shock and unable to help it, I fling myself against him and his arms immediately open to encompass me within his embrace.
In a way, that move was rather cynical. I needed to know that in view of Zane’s kiss, Jake doesn’t resent me. This hug proves that.
Feeling relieved, I snuggle into Jake’s arms for a second, taking comfort before thoughts of last night and the ideas that had formed in my brain just before sleep pop into my head once again. Pulling out of his arms, I whisper in his ear, “Can we all be together, Jake? All of us. In Bayling Cove?”
With that one question, I’ve put myself on the line, but I don’t regret it. Even if Jake blurts out he’s been fucking me out of revenge, I can’t regret putting that query forward.
For all that, relief doesn’t describe my elation, when he nods and answers, “We just need to convince Zane.”
Biting my lip, I study him for a few seconds, then the question bursts free. I can no longer contain it. “Has this been your intention all along, Jake? Is that why you came and found me in New York?”
My eyes flutter over his face, raking over his features. The hard jaw that’s even firmer out of the morning’s mishaps, the hazel orbs that glow like amber in the early sunlight.
“Would you mind if I said yes?”
His caution is almost amusing. Like I’m a live bomb and he’s holding me in his hands. “Not at all.”
Maybe at the start of this weird vacation of mine, I would have exploded with fury and outrage at such a suggestion. But now, I’m just relieved. We both want the same thing and we’ll both work toward it.
He lets out a huge breath. “You must have questions and we’ll talk later. As it is, I’ve a bridge to build.”
That, in the face of his concerns over his marriage, he took the time to embrace me in his arms and comfort me, has me melting inside.
This is a man I could feel so much for.
I just hope Zane gives us all a chance and that he allows my relationship with Jake to realize its true potential. And even though I know I have no right to ask that, I can’t help but hope.
Bussing my forehead in an absentminded kind of way, Jake rises nude from the bed and leaves without a backward glance and enters the salon.
With Zane, he kissed me in front of his partner. Jake walks out butt naked. Talk about two different ways of throwing down the gauntlet.
Maybe he left the door open a slight nick on purpose, or by accident. For whatever reason, I scramble over the silken sheets and almost skid on the parquet floor in my haste to reach the door and to peek through the crack.
I can just see them, Jake more than Zane as the former has taken a seat and the latter is striding about the luxurious sitting room.
Every glimpse I have of them reminds me that if this ever does come off, if the three of us can live together, if we can make it work, then I’ll be the luckiest women on Earth.
Christ, they’re handsome. And that’s even when they’re tense, pissed off, and worried.
In fact, I notice it more, because of that. They’re not even talking. Zane is still striding about the room, displaying more unrest than I ever thought possible. During those two weeks I had him to myself, a pathetically small time, in truth, I never saw him this riled up. And he had meetings with agents and editors and publishers. As stressed as he was, he seemed to quieten down and grow ever more still. A bit like Jake to be honest, but more blueberry slush to Jake’s iceberg impression.
So his agitation is more than unusual. I’ve seen Zane arrogant, distressed, aroused, satiated, content, at peace… but never so fired up he can’t sit. So on edge his only comfort is to burn off some of his energy.
It’s out of character. But then, this is an out of the ordinary situation.
The strain on his face is evident. His brow is puckered, the skin around his eyes taut and tight, and I’d hazard a guess at fatigued too. He’s probably jet-lagged.
Hopping off the plane and into a taxi and straight to this hotel, which according to Jake is where they always stay if they’re in Paris, down to this very suite. So Zane would know to find him here. I’d question how he even knew Jake was in Paris, but hell, the man’s had me investigated. He even knows what’s in my checking account. Why shouldn’t he be able to access his husband’s location?
The only thing he probably never expected was to find me in bed with him. Just seeing me in Paris would be a shock, considering he thinks I’m in New York. But to find me so obviously and flagrantly intimate with Jake tops that tenfold.
At least, it does in my mind.
I’m too far gone with this plan to feel shame. I’m fighting. Fighting for what I want and in ways, I doubted I was even capable. The strength of purpose to see something through, that more than sleeping with two guys, is a character trait I’ve come to realize I have in my possession.
Some might call me a slut or a whore for this, but I say, fuck them.
It’s my life. I’ve led it the regular way. Been bored to tears, felt depressed at the status quo of mundaneness that was my existence prior to meeting Zane. I’ve worked the nine-to-five, been married and divorced…and what has it reaped? Nothing but misery.
But now, I’m alive.
If the plan crumbles about my feet, and Jake’s too, then I’ll feel like shit. Then shame and guilt will fall down on my head. But until that time, until I hear a steadfast ‘no’ uttered from Zane’s lips, anticipation simmers in my blood more than anything else.
Because call me crazy, I can’t see how he won’t come to accept this situation.
Sure, it’s unusual. But hey, no more unusual than a straight guy joining himself to a bi guy, right? No weirder than the straight guy having multiple affairs as soon as he’s out of his partner’s vicinity. Although granted, adultery isn’t uncommon, but Zane’s life is one whole heap of crazy.
Perhaps this will bring some order to his world.
Jake’s scowl is aimed at nowhere. Sitting in an armchair, as naked as the day he was born, he’s yet to l
ook at Zane but then, that’s reciprocal —Zane hasn’t looked his way once. His sole act of modesty is to cross his legs and press his ankle into his knee. Despite the gravity of the situation, my blood starts to fizz. He looks hotter than hell and as tense and out of sorts as Zane is, he does too.
A part of me wonders if I’m about to see a ‘kiss and make up’ scene and I can’t help but feel thrilled at the prospect. My illicit wanderings to gay porn sites haven’t ceased. In the bathtub, at night, I still watch in awe. My mouth dry, my pussy anything but. The only difference is I don’t rub myself into a climax. I let Jake do that for me when I get out of the water and climb into his bed.
My lips twitch at the thought, but I’m dragged away from them by Zane’s low, bitten out, “Why?”
With his back to Jake, I can just make out his slumped shoulders. I start to nibble my lip, hating myself for causing Zane such distress when my last intention was to cause the man who dragged me from obscurity and into a world of love, pain.
“Why do you need to sleep with women?” Jake counters, surprisingly cool in the face of Zane’s hurt. If Zane’s flinch is anything to go by, that coolness only adds to his distress
“Mona isn’t just any woman.”
“I know.” More cool, silken tones. They’re a stark contrast to Zane’s tortured voice.
Dueling with self-doubt, anguish, pain and torment, I know Zane is filled with the guilt I’m incapable of feeling. Because he doesn’t understand yet. I hope he does soon and that he accepts what is bound to seem like an insane ‘suggestion’.
“Then, why?”
“Why not?”
Zane spins around and in the sliver available to me, I can see the fury now written into every line of his face. “This isn’t a game, Jake. Mona’s special. She doesn’t deserve to be a party to the games you play.”
“The games I play? Zane, I’m not the one who, whenever he’s out of town, fucks anything in a skirt. I don’t play. I’ve already told you. I know Simone is special. I knew it the minute I saw your fucking faces in the goddamned newspapers. Surrogate? Christ, we can only be grateful the media took such an innocent angle on the story or both our careers would be in tatters.
“And where’s my apology? For wrecking my life? Don’t you even have the decency to say sorry or don’t I matter anymore? Because if that’s the case, then we might as well just finish it. Say goodbye and never see each other again.”
“You’d be willing to let what we have go?” In the face of Jake’s self-righteous and every-word-correct anger, Zane deflates a little. But there’s still no apology. He does however unbend enough to cease his pacing and sink onto the sofa beside Jake.
“If you want to, yes. We both know I’m not enough for you and sneaking around is no way to live your life. If you want to be free, I won’t keep you tied to me.”
Even though Jake’s calmness is ripple-free, I can sense the strain it’s taking on him to seem so relaxed. Zane is too worked up to notice the faint clench of his jaw, the tautness of the flesh about his eyes, but even at this distance, I can.
Those small ruptures in the role Jake’s portraying is the only thing stopping me from panicking. A part of me wonders what the hell he’s thinking offering a separation, when that’s something neither of us wants.
But Jake’s a manipulator. I can’t forget that and can only pray he doesn’t fuck this up.
“I love you.”
Thank God. I could have stormed out from behind my hiding place and smacked a kiss on Jake’s lips. Of course, I don’t. I continue my silent watch.
At the simple, almost little-boy-lost comment, Jake smiles. He reaches for Zane’s hand and tucks it into his own. “I love you, too. But sometimes love isn’t enough.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s the truth. If it was enough, I’d be enough. But I’m not and the woman in my bedroom is proof positive of that.” He sucks in a breath, his eyes turn into slivers, as he inserts, “Could you give her up? For me? To save our marriage?”
My gut clenches at the phrasing of Jake’s question.
What if Zane says yes, he could?
The idea of a Zane-free world is enough to make me feel ill.
And one without Jake wouldn’t be lovely either.
From sinking down into the sofa, shoulders slouched, Zane shoots to his feet with enough ferocity to have both Jake and myself jolting in shock. His pacing resumes but his silence is telling.
And God help me, but relief floods my veins like water breaking free from of a dam.
As he storms in and out of my line of sight, his head bowed and a ferocious scowl on his face, I can tell he’s silently running through the options open to him.
Before Zane can answer, Jake does. “I’ll take that as a no.”
The low, pain-filled rumble in Zane’s voice has me wincing, but his next words make my heart soar. “She’s everything I didn’t realize I needed.”
“And where do I stand?”
A strained chuckle echoes through the room. Zane turns to Jake and jerks a shoulder. “You’re everything I didn’t realize I needed.”
“So, what? You want the pair of us? And you expect us to be content with that? Having half of you and never having the whole Zane?”
“Do you think I wanted this?” Zane barks out. “Do you think I want any of it? I didn’t choose to fall in love with you and I sure as hell didn’t choose to fall in love with Mona. Christ, she’s not even my type.”
I try not to flinch at that, but it’s hard.
Eavesdroppers never hear any good of themselves. I guess there’s a reason for that old adage. But hell, he said the words. He’s fallen in love with me. Me.
I just need him to say the words to me and not in the middle of a make-or-break argument with his husband.
“But I saw her and it was like...” His hands fist at his sides until the tendons show white. “It was like...”
At his subsequent hesitation, it’s Jake’s turn to bark, “What? For Christ’s sake, what? Spit it out.”
Zane sucks in a breath and the peculiar thing is, Jake and I do too. We hold it until he says, “Meeting you again.”
* * *
As I stood behind the bedroom door, listening in on what should have been a private conversation, I felt like I was on a rollercoaster ride. Zane would whisper something that would have my stomach swooping down. Jake would make a comment that had my heart pounding so furiously I’d felt sure I’d pass out. And round about the time Zane said he loved me, angel wings had battered my flesh, forcing goosebumps to race down the length of my spine.
But while I was overwhelmed by the discussion, the part that Zane and Jake hadn’t fried with too much sex, was also impressed.
Zane, at heart, is quite a traditionalist.
Oh, it might not seem it, but he is. His roots are traditional, and he’s a southern boy, with a southern family with southern wealth.
His life had probably been paved since before his conception. And while most parents plan, the kind of family Zane comes from, it would have been more than just a vague idea, more than misty aspirations for the child they wanted.
No, it would have been military precise. Down to the last detail. The kindergarten he’d attend where he’d brush shoulders with future presidents, his name listed on to the registration of a top private school at only three months in the womb, the colleges, the wife, and then the career.
With a background like that, rigid and planned, Zane’s life had spun out of control when he’d met Jake. Then, another car crash, he’d met me. Leaving him in limbo and lost, floundering, because his heart wanted two people. An impossible situation until Jake had placed the solution on the table. He’d offered it with both hands, with no ulterior motive, proffering everything Zane could possibly need.
All it took was Zane’s acceptance… and the guts to take what he needed, regardless of the fallout.
“No. That isn’t practical, Jake. All three of us can’t be toget
her.”
“Why not, Zane?” Jake had turned his focus to the door I was hiding behind. “Mona, come out, honey.”
Every single part of me had been ready to join the battle. War was something Zane understood, but he’d never seen or been involved in this kind of fight. This wasn’t to the death, nor was it about survival. It was for his happiness. And in turn, all of our futures.
After a quick dash to the bed to retrieve a sheet to cover my own nudity I’d strode into the room, shoulders back and spine ramrod straight.
“Yes, Jake?” I could have been asking if he’d wanted a coffee.
“Zane doesn’t believe the three of us can be together.”
A slight smile had quirked my lips as I lowered myself on to the sofa. All of a sudden, I’d felt so confident in myself. How I looked, who and what I was and I’d believed that these two gorgeous men could and should be mine. My smile had broadcast that to Zane.
Not that I’d seen his reaction to that moment of self-empowerment. As soon as I’d taken my seat, Jake’s arm had come up to rest atop my shoulders and I’d pressed my face against his jaw. “You want to be with me, don’t you, Jake?”
Rubbing his lips against my temple, his answer had been a hum of agreement. “I do. And you want me, right?”
My reply had been swallowed in a kiss of Jake’s instigation. He’d taken my mouth, thrust his tongue into it in a display of dominance that had shocked the hell out of me, but had turned my belly to molten goo. A faint whimper had escaped my throat as he feasted on my lips and tongue. I’d been an inch away from grabbing his cock, when Zane had gritted out, “You’ve made your point.”
His voice hadn’t been filled with anger. Oh, no. Lust. Need. And when Jake and I had separated, our breath brushing the other’s mouth, hunger still burning in the depths of our eyes, we’d turned as one to see the lines of Zane’s face had been etched with relief. That alone gave us our answer.
Zane was for this madcap scheme of ours, even if he might have needed a tad more persuasion.
“I haven’t finished yet,” Jake had grunted.
“You sure as hell have.” Zane’s hands had fisted. The sinews and muscles in his forearms harshly delineated as he tried to control his emotions.
Sinfully Theirs: Naughty Nookie Part I Page 24
