by JA Huss
Contents
In To Her
DESCRIPTION
Chapter One - YVETTE
Chapter Two - AJ
Chapter Three - LOGAN
Chapter Four - YVETTE
Chapter Five - AJ
Chapter Six - LOGAN
Chapter Seven - AJ
Chapter Eight - YVETTE
Chapter Nine - LOGAN
Chapter Ten - AJ
Chapter Eleven - YVETTE
Chapter Twelve - LOGAN
Chapter Thirteen - AJ
Chapter Fourteen - YVETTE
Chapter Fifteen - LOGAN
Chapter Sixteen - AJ
Chapter Seventeen - YVETTE
Chapter Eighteen - LOGAN
Chapter Nineteen - AJ
Chapter Twenty - YVETTE
Chapter Twenty-One - LOGAN
Chapter Twenty-Two - AJ
Chapter Twenty-Three - YVETTE
Chapter Twenty-Four - LOGAN
Chapter Twenty-Five - AJ
Chapter Twenty-Six - YVETTE
Chapter Twenty-Seven - LOGAN
Chapter Twenty-Eight - AJ
Chapter Twenty-Nine - YVETTE
Chapter Thirty - LOGAN
Chapter Thirty-One - AJ
Chapter Thirty-Two - LOGAN
Chapter Thirty-Three - YVETTE
Chapter Thirty-Four - LOGAN
Chapter Thirty-Five - AJ
Chapter Thirty-Six - YVETTE
Chapter Thirty-Seven - AJ
Chapter Thirty-Eight - LOGAN
Chapter Thirty-Nine - YVETTE
Chapter Forty - AJ
Chapter Forty-One - YVETTE
Chapter Forty-Two - AJ
EPILOGUE - LOGAN
END OF BOOK SHIT
About the Author
Edited by RJ Locksley
Cover Photo: Sara Eirew
Cover Design: JA Huss
Copyright © 2019 by J. A. Huss
All rights reserved.
ISBN-978-1-944475-65-9
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
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DESCRIPTION
When AJ and Logan walked into Yvette Nightingale’s bar they didn’t expect to be there long. They certainly didn’t expect to be dancing with her, or having sex with her, or spending the night with her.
Because they were sent there to kill her.
Not fall for her.
Not feel sorry for her.
Not want to take care of her, or protect her, or be in to her.
But sometimes people enter your life for a reason. Sometimes they even enter at the very moment you need them most. And Yvette Nightingale needs AJ and Logan.
She needs them even more than they need her.
CAUTION: In To Her is 320 pages of dirty smut, fantasy scenes with erotic toys, MFM and MMF ménage, and an angst-y HEA that will leave you guessing until the very last page. (This is not a love triangle).
Chapter One - YVETTE
The bell above the door jingles and a rush of wind blows the snow in. Two men come with it.
“Shit.” I sigh under my breath. I was just getting ready to close. All the tourists from the nearby ski resort went home early this morning to beat the storm and the bar has been dead since lunch.
Apparently these two didn’t get the memo.
“I’m just saying,” the tall, rough one with the blond hair says. “It’s just a fantasy.”
The other one looks right at me and growls, “Would you shut the fuck up?” in a very low, very threatening whisper that makes my stomach clench for some reason.
He’s talking to his friend, not me. So I don’t know why I have that reaction.
But then again, I know why.
It irritates me though.
They both take a seat at the bar while I glance at my phone so I can pretend I’ve got some very important text conversation going. I even pretend to type.
Normally I’d be hospitable and welcoming but I’m not feeling very normal today. I’ve had too much to drink, too much time to think, and I’m tired.
The storm has been brewing just down the mountain for most of the day so I’ve got no cell service and no internet, but I’m nothing if not a pretender. My lies have been such a part of me for so long, this comes second nature.
I’m also pretty good at improvising.
My bar—the Snowbunny—is the only stop on the western side of the mountain until you get all the way down into Pagosa Springs. In the winter we are super busy Thursday afternoon through Sunday afternoon, especially when the snowpack at Wolf Creek Ski Area is this awesome.
Lots of locals come in during the week too. Plow guys, truckers, local cops, mail people—or mail person, since we only have one up here.
But it’s Sunday evening now, the snow has been falling steadily for almost four straight days, and it’s supposed to pick up as the final front comes through overnight. Anyone with sense has probably decided enough is enough and gone home.
So I’ve been bored, just counting down the minutes until I can close, and now I’m annoyed with the two strangers who just walked into my bar and ruined my plans.
At just under twelve thousand feet in elevation, people who live and work up here pretty much do whatever the fuck they want, whenever the fuck they want to do it, and I count myself one of them. That’s the perk of living on the top of a mountain in the middle of a dangerous switchback pass.
There’s no other reason why anyone would bother with all the inconveniences of living in such an isolated place.
Well, there are two other reasons, really.
One. They are ski bums. They live, breathe, and eat skiing. That’s mostly who lives up here in the winter.
But the locals aren’t ski bums. We’re here for reason number two. We want to be left alone.
These two who just walked in are not locals. I know that for sure because I know everyone around here and they know me.
When I look up at them again they’re having a tense, whispered conversation. I decide to move things along and say, “Can I get you something?”
The rough one drags his eyes off his friend to stare at me. His blue eyes are too blue. The kind of blue you see in photographs when someone’s gone a little crazy with the Photoshop. The kind of blue that draws you in and makes you speechless. The kind of blue that puts you under a spell so you can’t look away—and warns you not to look, all in the same moment.
“What?” I say. Because I don’t fall for spells, I don’t get lost in the eyes of strange men, and I take looks of warning very seriously.
He smiles and the spell evaporates.
Thought so, motherfucker.
He holds up two fingers in a v-sign and says, “Two Jacks, no ice.”
I nod and turn away to grab glasses, put them on the bar, and pour them each two fingers of Jack.
Then I look at the other one—the suit guy—and slide the glasses over to them, keeping my distance. “Thirty bucks.”
The suit guy glances up at the chalkboard above my head with the drink prices, then lifts an eyebrow at me. Like… really?
But I don’t care. If I overcharge them, they’ll get their shit together and leave. Get off this damn mountain while they still can and leave me alone.
B
lue Eyes pulls a fifty out his wallet and throws it down. “Keep it all,” he says, then tucks his wallet into his pants and turns away to whisper at his friend so I can’t hear.
Whatever. I grab the fifty, shove it in my apron pocket, and walk around the other side of the bar so I can start stacking chairs on tables, dropping a not-so-subtle hint that they should drink their Jack and get the fuck out.
“We’ve done it before,” I catch Blue Eyes saying. “What’s the big deal?”
I glance over as I stack my chairs and find Suit Guy looking right at me. He says, “This is different. This is fucking business.” And then, as he continues to stare at me, he downs his drink in one gulp and says, “Another.”
I already don’t like him and this is starting to piss me off.
But I have found that when people put on a power display like he’s doing now, it’s much easier to go along amicably. It gives people the opportunity to forget you. To move on. To take that attention you didn’t mean to draw and focus it somewhere else.
So I smile. Nod. And walk behind the bar, grab the bottle, and meet his expectations.
“You as well?” I ask Blue Eyes.
He hasn’t touched his drink. But he lifts it to his lips now, shoots me a wink, and then downs it like his friend. “Sure,” he says, sliding his glass towards me.
I pour and slide it back.
“Just… come on, man,” he says, looking at me. “It’ll be fun."
And I’m thinking, What?
But he’s not talking to me. He’s talking to Suit Guy. “Not. Tonight,” his friend growls.
Again, I get that feeling in my stomach that something is off. Something is happening here and I’m about to miss it.
That will not happen.
I don’t miss anything.
So I say, “Listen, guys,” in my most fake, most pleasant voice. “I’m about to close up and the snow’s coming down pretty good now. You might want to get where you’re going while you still can.”
“The hours on the door say you close at nine,” Suit Guy says.
“Well,” I say, trying to keep that fake easiness going, “I’ve changed my mind about the hours on the door. And since I own this place, I can do that whenever I want.”
Blue Eyes ignores this whole confrontation and says, “Come on, Logan. Relax.” And then he gets up, walks over to the jukebox, slides in a bill, and starts picking songs.
I force myself to take a deep breath. Because this situation could go bad fast. I’m alone here. There’s a blizzard brewing outside. No one is even out on the highway just past my parking lot, because for sure, it’s been closed down for the storm by now. You can still travel on it if you have to. But go far enough down the mountain on either side and you’re gonna end up at a road block. Which means there’s no chance some random trucker will drop by and the locals aren’t stupid enough to get stuck in this shit weather, so no one’s coming through my door to break this little party up.
I look over at the bar where I have a gun stashed and wonder if I should just overreact and put an end to this now, or take the wait-and-see approach.
But just as I wonder that, Ladies Love Country Boys comes blaring through the speakers and Blue Eyes takes off his coat, throws it across a bar stool, and starts shuffling his way across the floor, thumbs hooked in the front pockets of his jeans.
Suit Guy groans loudly.
Logan, I correct myself, recalling his name.
“Come on,” Blue Eyes says. “Have a little fun with it.”
Is that what they were arguing about? Line dancing?
Logan shakes his head and looks back at his drink.
Blue Eyes says, “How about you?”
I look at him, find him grinning, and realize… he’s handsome. And now that I take a moment to really study him, he does have that rough, cowboy look going. Maybe he is local and this other guy is just a visiting friend. He doesn’t have a cowboy hat or anything like that. But he’s got a barely-there shadow on his angular square jaw, dark-blond scruffy hair, and the body of a man who works for a living. He’s wearing faded blue jeans, a tight, long-sleeved white thermal that shows all the muscles it’s trying to hide underneath, and well-worn cowboy boots on his feet.
“Take a spin with me?” he asks, shooting me with his fingers and spinning in the middle of the dance floor. “Since my friend here is shy?”
I relax a little.
Dancing. They were arguing about dancing.
I allow myself a smile and decide, Fuck it. Why not? and walk out from behind the bar, shuffling my way towards him.
As soon as I’m within arm’s reach he grabs my hand and pulls me into a country version of the West Coast swing.
I laugh, unexpectedly, and forget about the warning bells in my stomach. Forget all about my plans for tonight and just… have a little fun for once.
And he’s good at this. Like really good at this. He leads me like a pro. Twirling me and spinning me back to him with grace and confidence.
We break apart for a second, shuffling and stepping. I start doing a few of my favorite moves—because I am also one hell of a line dancer. Country night on Fridays has always been my favorite thing about this bar.
So I do something I don’t normally do. Especially in the company of strangers.
I let go.
I forget who I am and why I’m here.
I erase my past and live in the present.
I let this man take me away from all that.
And then, just as we’re really finding our rhythm and getting into it, he twirls me away from him, lets his fingertips slide past mine, and I bump into the chest of Logan.
I look up at him and find him frowning down at me. He took off his coat too and underneath he’s wearing a charcoal-gray suit that matches his dark gray eyes. No cowboy boots on his feet. No shadow on his jaw. No blond hair. He is as different from Blue Eyes as you can get.
How did they become friends? I wonder.
He takes my hand, leading me—just as well as his blue-eyed friend—and takes over.
And just like that we become a trio.
The song ends, but another one begins immediately. And we don’t break the beat or stop. They pass me back and forth like we’ve done this millions of times. Pulling me into their chest, then pushing me away so the other can claim me and do the same.
It’s sexy, I realize.
Maybe too sexy.
I find myself thinking about them. Who they are and why there’re here. But mostly, I find myself wondering how many times they’ve done this together? How many girls have they seduced in an empty bar this way? Because some of this feels very planned.
“What’s your name?” Blue Eyes asks in a low, rough voice just loud enough to be heard over the music.
“Yvette,” I say.
He tips an imaginary hat and says, “I’m AJ,” he says. “And this is Logan. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” But he doesn’t have that Southern boy drawl. If anything he comes off like a wolf. A predator. One of those guys who will do unspeakable things to men and unforgettable things to women.
I should put a stop to this. But just as I think that, Logan twirls me into his chest and the song changes, turning slow.
Logan holds me close, one hand firmly gripping mine as he rests it between our shoulders while his arm circles my waist. We dance like that, no space between us, and I hold my breath, waiting for—no, anticipating—what might happen next.
I find out soon enough. Because AJ has come up behind me. He places his hands on my hips. Low on my hips. And then reaches around my body, caressing my lower belly as he bends his knees and grinds against my ass. Slow-dancing with us as his cock becomes hard and lets me know what’s really happening here.
I don’t want to look up into Logan’s eyes. I really don’t. Because I know what I’ll see there. I know all the silent questions he’s gonna ask. And I don’t have an answer ready.
But I can’t help myself. I can’t stop myself from
looking. I tilt my head up, find his eyes, see his question, and then…
He kisses me and I give him my answer.
“Yes,” I whisper into his mouth. “Yes.”
Why not, that inner voice says. Let’s put this day to rest with a bang.
Chapter Two - AJ
We didn’t plan this.
It’s a moment you can’t plan. There’s no way to line up all the variables and come out the other end with this.
Believe me, we’ve tried.
I lean my head to the side so I can watch them kiss. Logan’s mouth meets hers like he’s hungry for her, even though five minutes ago he was the one who wanted to skip the dance.
Logan opens his mouth, and Yvette opens her mouth, whispering something to him. And then I catch a glimpse of tongues touching.
I’m already hard and I don’t even bother trying to pretend what’s coming next isn’t coming.
We’ve done this before. Couple dozen times probably. But all those times feel different. They never felt like a sure thing and there was always the possibility that wires would get crossed or minds would think twice.
It doesn’t feel like that with Yvette.
Everything about tonight feels different. Everything about her is different.
She’s wearing tight jeans tucked into high boots. The jeans are dark and the boots are brown suede with laces that start at her toes and go all the way up to her knees. Her top is covered by a black apron that has the name Snowbunny embroidered just under her left shoulder.
I have an urge to see her top so I drag my hands around to her hips with fingers splayed so I can touch as much of her as possible, and untie the apron string around her middle.
She sucks in a breath.
Now would the time to stop me. Right now. Before I go any further.
But she just leans into Logan and kisses him harder as he threads his hands into her long, blonde hair and picks it up, exposing her neck and the hidden strap of fabric that’s holding her apron on.
I slip it over her head and they break apart just long enough for me to remove the apron and throw it on the floor.
