Filthy Scrooge

by Quinn, Taryn

It didn’t take much effort to glance down and see he wasn’t lying. As far as the rest of their conversation? She wasn’t going there. “So why won’t you just finish the job?”

  “And people accuse me of being unromantic. Shit.”

  “Is it loyalty to Tris? Did what you—what we did last night count as cheating or something? Are you a couple now?” The questions spilled out of her, stopping only when he eased back and tucked her hair behind her ears.

  “We’re not a couple. What we do is just about letting off steam.”

  “That’s not true. That’s not what I saw.”

  For the first time, he looked away. “It is what it is. We’re not committed to each other, Cait.”

  “What do you call it?”

  “We still sleep with women, still have girlfriends. And when we do, we’re not together. Neither of us are cheaters.”

  “And neither of you want to make what you have permanent.”

  His silence gnawed at her, making her jerk away from him and to her feet. “Think I’ll go get some work done.”

  He nodded. “I think that’s a good idea.”

  She’d taken a few steps when he spoke again, his voice soft and raw. “Cait.”

  Trepidation iced her spine. “What?”

  “What about both of us?”

  “What about both of you what?” She knew she sounded impatient, but she’d grown tired of this conversation. A full day of work waited for her, and she didn’t want to think about any of this anymore.

  Not right now. She was getting a headache.

  Matt rose fluidly, not the least bit ill at ease about his nudity. Why should he be? The guy was sexy as hell.

  She swallowed hard when he strolled over and tipped up her chin. “You said you wanted it to be one of us who took your virginity. So what if it were both of us?”

  “Uh, you can’t lose your virginity twice.”

  “You think?” He licked the inside of his lower lip, and her nipples pushed against her bra. “I think you should let us prove otherwise. Let both of us make love to you. Together.”

  Cait opened her mouth to answer. She really did. But no words came.

  How could he ask that of her? That kind of thing was fine for others, but not for her. She wasn’t the threesome type.

  She was almost sure.

  Especially not the first time she had sex.

  They were her best friends. She wasn’t a juicy piece of chicken they could split up at dinner. It was flat-out wrong.

  More wrong than asking them which wanted to be the one to take your virginity?

  Her belly quivered, everything south heating so fast that she feared embarrassing herself if she didn’t get out of there. She might just agree to anything he asked.

  Especially since she’d already considered it, throughout the long night when she’d twisted and turned in her bed and remembered Matt and Tris together. She’d tried to stop picturing herself with them, but it was impossible. Her mind insisted on inserting her into every explicit scene she conjured up, each more torrid than the last.

  Matt leaned in and kissed her lightly. Though his lips scarcely brushed hers, her core contracted as if he’d sucked her nipple into his mouth. “Think about it.”

  Then he turned around, whistling, and headed off to the shower.

  Before she chased after him, she hurried downstairs to her desk. Music. She needed music. Anything to drown out the voice in her head.

  She brought up a Christmas music station online and turned up the volume. Carols would put her in the right frame of mind.

  Focus on something else.

  Christmas. That worked.

  They still needed to get a tree for the office. They’d been so incredibly busy for the last few months that none of them had even had a chance to think of decorating, though that was usually Matt’s job anyway. He got a kick out of stringing garland all over the place and putting up gel clings of angels and snowflakes in the windows. She and Tris always teased him it was obvious he’d missed out on the design gene completely, because anyone with an artistic eye would reject that stuff on sight.

  Last Christmas she’d been seeing Gary. So that was around when this had started between them.

  Deep in the heart of winter, they’d turned to each other. One night Matt had just reached for Tristan’s zipper and said what the hell and gone to town.

  Here, probably. In this very office.

  Which of them had taken the other’s cock in his mouth that first night? All that hard, needy flesh, just begging to be licked and stroked. Deep throated. Swallowed.

  She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against her monitor, unable to erase the pictures forming behind her eyes. God, she was losing it. In a minute, she’d spontaneously orgasm, and then she’d be incapable of denying the truth.

  Tristan and Matt being lovers fascinated her.

  She wanted to watch them. Wanted to be a part of them.

  “Normally you leave fingerprints on the monitor. Now forehead prints? Cripes, Caity, that machine cost over two grand.”

  She jolted backward at Tristan’s irritated voice. He stood in the kitchenette, wearing a crisp white Oxford shirt and black dress pants. Though it was still a little wet, his dark hair skimmed his shoulders in perfect waves. As rugged as Matt’s looks were, Tristan’s were classic. He looked like a movie star between takes, with just enough edge to make things interesting. More edge than she’d ever guessed. She wouldn’t have pegged him as a rough lover, but last night had proven her wrong on a lot of scores.

  Forest green eyes met hers, then glanced pointedly at the floor. “Who broke your mug?” he asked, his tone immediately softening. “Aww, honey, I’m sorry.”

  All at once, the previous evening rushed back, and she hurried into the kitchen.

  Wile E. Coyote’s head lay in fat pieces on the hardwood floor. She stared as Tris cleaned up the mess. He swore colorfully while he did it, but he didn’t hesitate.

  Her sweet, unselfish friend.

  Okay, that wasn’t true. He could often be selfish. But he wasn’t with her.

  Never with her.

  “Tris,” she whispered, crouching to brush her hand over his hair. Just one quick, illicit touch.

  He turned his head, his gorgeous eyes radiating compassion. “I know that was your favorite. I’ll buy you a new one. Where’d you get it again?”

  “A shop in California.”

  “Oh. Well, they must have a website, right?”

  She didn’t think. Her brain threw up a “currently on vacation” sign, and she was left with pure instinct. That instinct made her slide her palm over Tristan’s jaw, still damp from his morning shave, and pull him closer until his eyes were level with hers.

  “I want to kiss you,” she murmured, shocked to hear the truth fall from her lips.

  Surprise registered on his face, but not only surprise. Anticipation. Desire. Another amazing trio.

  “Do you usually ask?”

  She stroked his cheek, her gaze darting between the path of her fingers and his soft, expectant mouth. “When it’s you, yeah,” she said, drawing her hand away when all she wanted to do was hold on.

  He dropped the paper towels on the floor and shifted to frame her face in his hands. Hands she’d envisioned on her body so many times.

  “So do it,” he murmured, leaning in and doing it for her.

  At first it was the complete antithesis of the kiss she’d shared with Matthew. That one had been crazy, emotional. Uncontrolled. This was a gentle mating of lips. Soft, sweet, and easy. He didn’t press for her to grant him access, but she gave it, opening for him with a low moan.

  When his tongue curled around hers, she shivered. She was already so aroused from the direction of her thoughts that his drugging kisses short-circuited her senses. She slid her hands up his chest to his broad, corded shoulders, digging her nails into his skin as she angled her mouth over his and took the control she knew he was waiting to give.

  He sw
ooped in, enfolding her in his strong, steady arms. He tasted so good, like toothpaste and sex. Her mouth explored every nuance of his while the pressure in her belly built. Lazy explorations turned to a mad duel of tongues and lips. She panted, dizzy from lack of oxygen, but she couldn’t have torn herself away from him if her life had been at stake.

  As frantic as his mouth was, every bit as wild as hers, his hands didn’t roam her body. They stayed securely on her back while she tried to feel as much of him through his clothes as possible.

  More. Just more. It was the only thought she had left.

  The noises coming from the coffee machine made them jerk apart. Breath heaving, she dropped her forehead to his and closed her eyes.

  What the hell had she just done?

  “Morning, kids,” Matt said, his cheerful hello nearly sending her stumbling backward onto the floor. Though her muscles protested from crouching for so long, she still didn’t move. She felt frozen in place. “Sleep well?”

  She shot Matt a hateful glance and said nothing. Tristan’s arms held fast around her, keeping her in place. “Guess you didn’t have a chance to start the coffee,” she said to Tristan.

  Tristan shook his head. “Hadn’t gotten that far.”

  “Figures.”

  He ran a hand down her hair as he spoke to Matt. “Finesse, pal. Learn it.”

  Cait stared hard at Matt, mentally willing him to remember what she’d said last night.

  Don’t say a word.

  Matt shrugged and turned away, reaching into an overhead cabinet for a cup. “Sorry. You want privacy, you know where the bedrooms are.”

  That got her moving. “I have work to do,” she said stiffly, pushing at Tristan’s biceps.

  “Now that’s what I like to hear. Which one of us should drop his pants first?”

  “Jesus, Matt. Shut the hell up.” Tris brushed his fingertip over her swollen lower lip, his gaze searching hers. “You okay?” he asked in an undertone. “I’ll get you another mug.”

  In spite of the tears one blink away from filling her eyes, she managed to smile. “Sure. Fine. Can I get up now?”

  He released her, and she rose unsteadily. “How’d the mug get broken anyway?” he asked, grabbing the dustpan.

  Cait glanced at Matt and caught his smug little smile. “I can’t remember.”

  Before Matt could make another smart comment, she headed back to her desk. She dropped into her chair and swiveled to face her computer, then clicked open her latest design project.

  One stilted attempt at normalcy coming right up.

  Tristan immediately engaged Matt in some inane banter about Abe Donnelly’s latest over-the-top demands. She didn’t listen.

  Now that she’d made an impossible situation even worse, she was going back to work.

  * * *

  “She’s a good kisser, huh?”

  “What?” His mind on his current crisis—what to order for lunch from the takeout menu in his hand—Tristan almost didn’t hear Matt.

  Then his brain clicked into gear, and he turned to glare at his best friend. “What did you just say?”

  “Cait. She’s a good kisser. But then we always knew she would be. Don’t think you got past her mouth, but believe you me, the rest of her is just as responsive.”

  Before Matt’s words fully pierced the haze in his brain, Tris noted his best friend’s smirk. He’d seen that smirk before. That was the expression Matt wore when he’d set his sights on a new conquest.

  Or had already enjoyed one.

  In an instant, Tris hurtled out of his chair and pushed Matt against the wall. He lifted his knee, fully intent on shoving it into Matt’s groin. “What did you do to her?” he demanded.

  “Not nearly enough. And you might want to mind the knee. You’ll regret it later.”

  “I asked you a goddamned question. How do you know what kind of kisser she is?”

  “Sit down. You’re hungry and you’re tired, and as usual your testosterone’s doing the talking.” Matt’s jaw popped as he yawned. “We’re both tired. So ease off and I’ll tell you.”

  Tris stepped back a fraction. “This is as far as I’m going. Start talking.”

  “You’re getting the abridged version. There’s a couple of reasons for that, mainly that she doesn’t want you to know.”

  Now he sat. “Why?”

  Matt rolled back up to his desk. He resumed whatever he’d been doing, moving his hand in wide swings on the mouse. “You know Cait,” he said dismissively. “Always has her reasons. But in this case, I don’t think she’s altogether wrong. You’re both impossible to deal with. Which is why from here on out, we’re doing this my way.”

  Tristan reached for the laminated menu, then let it drop forgotten in his lap. Who was he kidding? He couldn’t concentrate on food at the moment, roaring stomach be damned.

  He’d been having enough trouble all morning, between trying to forget the feeling of Caity’s mouth on his and his futile efforts to decipher the thick-as-mud tension between his two partners. Maybe he’d finally figure out just what the hell was going on in his own damn house.

  Because something clearly was. Sometime between when Matt had gone downstairs to supposedly call his mother last night and this morning, something had transpired between Caity and Matt.

  Whatever it was, that had to be the explanation for Caity kissing him this morning. He’d been turning it over all day, wondering why the hell she’d made a move on him. Why now? He certainly hadn’t minded. In fact, he was already counting the minutes until it happened again.

  But still. Something had to have given her a push.

  And he had a feeling he was looking at him.

  “You kissed her,” Tris stated. “When?”

  “Last night.”

  “When last night? You were with me last night, if you’ve forgotten.” Even Tristan could hear the undercurrent in his tone. Hell if he could decipher if he was jealous about Matt getting with Cait—or vice versa.

  Either way they hadn’t been with him.

  “Yeah, I remember.” Matt banged his mouse. “I also remember looking at the doorway while you were cleaning up and realizing we had an observer.”

  Tristan fisted his hands on the arms of his chair. “You’re not serious.”

  “Deadly.”

  “Jesus.” Tris closed his eyes and tried not to imagine what Caity had witnessed. “Did she—is she—”

  “She’s all right. Now. She was shocked, but she got over it fast.” Again the smirk, and Tris’s stomach tightened. “I distracted her.”

  “How?”

  Matt arched a brow and shifted to face him, hands sprawled on his stomach. “Sure you want the gory details?”

  “The details of how you clearly left my bed and went to hers? Why not?”

  Though he wasn’t altogether sure he did. But he’d be damned if they left him out of the loop any longer.

  But instead of Matt spilling, he reached for his soda and tipped it back to his mouth for a long swallow. Then he sighed. “She was pretty pissed and just as much hurt. I came down here to try to explain, but we started baiting each other and things went from there.”

  Tris rolled his eyes. As if Matt and Caity sniping at each other was anything new. “Baiting each other about what?”

  Matt lifted his head and stared him straight in the eye. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah. We made it into a competition about which of us wanted you more. And then we circled around wanting each other. I’m still not really sure where we stand on that score. I mean, I know where I stand, and I know she wants use of my dick, but as for more than that, no clue.”

  Tristan shook his head, trying to comprehend what Matt was telling him. “You fought over me. Then you fought over each other. And she wants use of your dick?”

  “Yours too.” Matt saluted him with his soda. “Our little Cait has her share of needs, it seems.”

  Tris picked up his own bottle of soda and rolled
it between his palms. “You’re not telling me everything,” he said softly. “And I’m guessing what you’re leaving out involves sex.”

  “Things escalated. But no, we didn’t have sex. She wanted to, though, as part of her big master plan.” Matt shrugged. “Let’s just say she had plans for both of us that went beyond quick kisses and fumbling clutches. And before you ask what kind of plans, use your damn imagination.”

  “Already doing that,” Tris replied, his stomach roiling with the pictures his mind insisted on forming.

  What exactly had happened? More to the point, what experiences had they shared without him?

  He released a long breath. No wonder Caity had been so shocked and hurt. She’d been the one left out of things going on right under her nose, and now he was in that role. And he didn’t like it one bit.

  “Anyway, the point is this. She’s ready for us, Tris. We just need to do this the right way. My way.”

  “You kissed her. What else?”

  “Man, you’re fixated, aren’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t you be?”

  Matt nodded and sipped more soda. “Hell yeah. Let’s just say other parts of her taste as good as her mouth.”

  “Not surprised.” With effort, Tristan tried to focus on the conversation and not what parts of Caity Matt had gotten to sample. Lost cause. “You didn’t get her naked.”

  “No. But if I could’ve, I would have. And I wouldn’t have felt guilty. She’s been the goal all along. We ended up being a pleasant side trip, but we weren’t planned. Doesn’t mean we can’t alter the plan a bit now, though.”

  “Seriously, Matt, I’m way too freaking hungry to try to make sense of what you’re saying. Get to the point, would you?”

  And leave me in peace to try to figure out why the hell Caity kissed me.

  Beyond the obvious, of course. She was clearly stretching their boundaries, between what had happened with him and from what had occurred with Matt. Whatever the hell that was.

  But there was more to it. The kiss this morning had almost felt like a test. He still didn’t know if he’d passed or failed.

  Caity had taken off early a short while ago, but she hadn’t said a word about anything but work to either him or Matt all morning. Nor had she flirted or teased or even flipped her hair.