Love Under Two Mavericks

by Cara Covington

  Michaela still hadn’t moved, so he carried on with his tour. He found two more bedrooms upstairs and another bathroom. While the bedrooms were empty, the bathroom was spotlessly clean. There was some work needed up here but, from what he could see, mostly just the cosmetic kind.

  Downstairs again, he took in the setup, that the living room and the dining room were separated only by an archway and shared the whole of the front of the house. The kitchen opened off the dining room and shared a wall with the bedroom and bathroom across the hall from Michaela.

  Her laptop was on the dining room table and had gone into sleep mode. He touched the mouse pad, and when the screen came up, he saw that she’d been watching a video on how to replace a piece of doorframe. A quick look at her history told him not what sort of music she liked but rather that she’d been teaching herself, through the use of these how-to videos, to do whatever tasks had been required.

  His gaze was drawn to that one unfinished piece of doorframe. There was a tape measure along with the nail gun, a regular hammer, nails, an oscillating tool with a cutting blade—she had herself a collection, he thought.

  But no large saw and no lumber waiting to be cut.

  He took the measurement needed for the door frame, checked that she was still asleep, and headed out to where he thought her lumber and saw would be—the barn.

  A couple of minutes later, Lewis stood in awe. This had clearly been a working barn, though there was no scent of animals remaining. A tractor was parked in the back, its nose pointing out, as if awaiting use. He recognized attachments that had been stored by someone who knew what they were doing. Michaela’s father had used his equipment to plow the soil and to disc it—likely in preparation to plant feed grasses or maybe even corn. There were stalls and a tack room that had bridles and even a couple of saddles that appeared to need nothing more than cleaning—and a couple of horses to wear them.

  His fingers itched to inspect the implements, to sort out the tack, but that couldn’t be his focus right now.

  Instead, just to the left of the door he’d entered through, he found Michaela’s renovation workstation. He saw the pair of gloves he and Randy had gifted her, a set of safety glasses, and there, on the shelf, a circular saw.

  A pile of lumber, a few one-by-threes, a few one-by-sixes, and various other sizes were stacked neatly. There on top lay a piece of one-by-six that was shorter than the others.

  Lewis plugged in the saw, clamped the piece, and measured where he’d cut. It took only a moment. Then he unplugged the saw and took the time to close the barn door behind him.

  Michaela was still asleep, which Lewis counted as a bonus. He quietly closed her door, so the sound he was about to make when he turned on the compressor didn’t wake her.

  For extra measure, he set the compressor out on the porch. The cord and the hose were long enough, and he was only going to use the tool for a moment.

  It didn’t take him long to install the piece. He didn’t notice the nail gun stick, or try to jump, so it could have been a one-time thing. Still, he’d suggest getting a new one, though the one she’d bought wasn’t particularly heavy.

  Lewis heard the sound of tires on gravel, signaling Randy’s return. He set the tools aside, where she likely kept them on that little TV table, and nodded at the doorframe, ready for wood fill and then paint.

  He knew, going forward, she’d insist on doing some of the work, and that was fine. Lewis had no intention of preventing her from working on her own ranch, be it repairs or whatever else she wanted to do.

  He’d just been determined she wouldn’t have to finish the repair that had quite literally taken a bite out of her.

  Chapter Eight

  Michaela swam through the fog of sleep toward the surface. A pounding, persistent ache throbbing from her left hand and up her arm grew into a sharp pain. She moaned, trying to escape the nightmare, and the bedside light came on.

  “Shh, baby girl. It’s all right.”

  Lewis’s sleepy voice came from her right. The bed jostled a little.

  “What do you need, sweetheart?” Randy’s voice came from her left.

  She blinked her eyes and remembered everything. They’d joined her in the bed at some point, as they’d said they would. “Hurts. Not just my hand. My whole arm.” She groaned again. “Damn, and I have to pee.”

  “Okay, let’s give you a bit of help getting up.” Lewis stood, and she looked over at him. He was wearing boxers. She grinned when she saw he was hard.

  “If you ignore it, so will I,” Lewis said. He had such a cute smile. That and his erection helped her to wake right up.

  “It’s kind of hard to ignore.” She guessed things weren’t so bad with her injury if her cheeky self wanted to play. The bedroom window’s drapes were closed, allowing no daylight into the room, if there was any. There was only the soft light from the bedside lamp. Michaela felt as if she’d slept forever. “What time is it?”

  “Time for you to behave,” Randy said. “We’re determined to be proper gentlemen, here.”

  She looked to her left. Randy also sported boxers and a hard-on. Despite the pain she was in, her hormones were tossing off their sleepiness and were ready to rumba.

  “Where’s the fun in that?” She thought it was a reasonable question, under the circumstances.

  “Oh, we’re going to have fun, baby girl, don’t you worry about that.” Lewis offered her his hand, and she took it. He patiently waited for her to wiggle toward him, and then he helped her to stand up.

  “Would you like something to eat? You’ve been asleep since this afternoon, and it’s well into the night.”

  “Yeah. I’m a bit hungry, but I don’t know that I’ve got anything in the house that I feel like eating.”

  “Well, as it happens, I went out and got a few things this afternoon,” Randy said. “And then Aunt Bernice dropped off some homemade chicken soup and a loaf of fresh bread around supper time.”

  Michaela didn’t have to say a word. Her stomach growled loud enough for both men to hear it.

  “Go to the bathroom,” Lewis said. “Then meet us in the dining room.”

  “Just let me grab my jammies.” She headed to her dresser and pulled out a pair of sleep shorts and a cotton top. It wasn’t a sexy set by any means, but she really wanted to change out of her current apparel, because she’d had her panties on since morning.

  Michaela found it a bit painful tending to herself in the bathroom, until she made the effort not to use her left hand. She one-handed the soap, water, and washcloth and freshened herself up as best she could. Getting dressed one-handed worked better when she sat down on the edge of the tub.

  Her hand did hurt, not quite as badly as when she’d nailed herself—ha ha—but it was throbbing some. She’d been lucky so far in her life not to have experienced any real pain—beyond the odd headache. This was definitely different from that.

  Michaela followed her nose—that chicken soup smelled good—and found the guys, wearing their jeans but not their shirts or their socks, apparently. She looked down at their bare feet.

  “You two even have sexy feet.” How fair was that? What do you care about fair? You’re the one who gets to enjoy them. Well, at least for the moment. Right now, Michaela was fine with enjoying them for the moment.

  “I don’t know, sweetheart. I know what sexy feet look like, because I’m looking at them.”

  Randy was staring down at her toes. Feeling a bit frisky, she rested her left foot on its heel and wiggled her fuchsia-tipped digits, using them to wave at him. Both men chuckled, and then Lewis held her chair, and Randy ladled out the soup.

  “Do you want butter on your bread?” Lewis asked.

  “Yes, please.” She held up her left hand. “I wonder why Dr. Jessop bandaged my entire hand when it was only my index finger that was injured?”

  “Likely so you wouldn’t do what you would do otherwise—use the rest of your hand to do things like get dressed and butter your bread,”
Lewis said.

  “Would he be that sneaky?” Michaela had always considered Robert Jessop to be a kind and attentive gentleman.

  She spooned some soup and bit into the bread, which she realized they must have warmed in the microwave. The scent of the yeast and the melting of the bread and butter on her tongue sent her inner foodie into spasms of delight.

  The guys hadn’t answered her question, but she noticed that Randy and Lewis looked at each other for a moment. Lewis nodded to Randy, who then turned his attention to her. “Well, sweetheart, he is a Dom. I’ve heard they tend to be sneaky and bossy and always get their way.”

  Michaela felt her eyes widen. “Robert Jessop is a Dom? As in whips and chains? That kind of Dom?”

  Lewis chuckled. “I haven’t heard that he uses either, necessarily. But yes, Robert and David are both Dominants, and Jillian is their submissive as well as their wife. I think it suits all three of them.”

  “Are they the only ones in town who are—you know—like that?”

  Lewis grinned. “Nope. There are a few other triads.” Then he tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. “Interested?”

  “About Doms and subs and bondage and things? I don’t…” She huffed out a breath and realized they were about to get into a very personal discussion over excellent chicken soup and amazing freshly homemade bread. “I don’t know much about it, personally. I’ve heard a few things. Maybe I should say I’m a bit curious. But I don’t have a lot of sexual experience. I’ve had one lover—this guy who was a sort of a friend in college. We went to a party one night, and I had a bit too much to drink. But it didn’t last much longer than that one night …” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  And opened them when Lewis’s hand covered her right one. “Baby girl? A guy in college, friend or not, taking advantage of you when you’d had too much to drink? I’d call him a lot of things, but ‘lover’ sure as hell isn’t one of them.”

  “He didn’t force me, Lewis. I remember quite clearly saying yes.”

  “Maybe he didn’t force you,” Randy said. “But in our book? If you were alcohol-impaired, then he should not have touched you, period.”

  “Eat up, baby girl. I know you’ve slept a lot already, but we both really feel you need more.”

  “I can’t usually fall asleep again quite so quickly after a nap. And that was a very long nap.”

  Neither of the men had anything to say to that. So she turned her attention back to her bowl of soup and piece of still warm, perfectly buttered bread.

  After just a few more sips and bites, she felt full. Michaela frowned as she looked down at her still one-quarter full bowl of soup and half-piece of bread.

  “It’s good, and my mouth wants more.”

  “But your tummy is saying you’ve had enough?” Randy nodded. “I’m not surprised.”

  “Tomorrow you should be pretty much back to normal, appetite- wise” Lewis picked up her right hand and kissed it. “Come on, baby girl.”

  Only moments before she’d proclaimed that she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, but now she couldn’t stop the enormous yawn that fought its way out of her.

  As she walked with him back to the bedroom, she stopped. Michaela had turned her head to look at her still-in-need-of-repair front door. She blinked because she wasn’t sure if she was seeing it right.

  “You fixed it.” She looked up at Lewis.

  “I did. You’ll get back up on your horse as soon as your hand heals. I needed to finish that for you.”

  She’d looked toward the door, and she hadn’t known if looking at the still-damaged doorframe would give her the creeps, or not. She’d thought she might have trouble fixing it and had already begun to mentally prepare to face that dragon. And now, she didn’t have to.

  “Thank you.”

  Lewis lifted her chin with a finger. “You’re welcome. And I didn’t take a sledgehammer to that nail gun that bit you, so there’s that.”

  “I don’t think I have a sledgehammer.”

  “There you go.”

  In the bedroom again, Lewis lifted the sheet, and Michaela slid beneath it. She wiggled her butt until she reached the center of the bed.

  When she looked up at Lewis, he held out a bottle of water, uncapped, and a couple of white pills.

  “Thank you.” She’d thought not to bother taking any more pills, but her hand was really hurting. She’d take one more dose and see if she couldn’t get through the next day without them.

  His smile, when she took the pills, told her more than words that he cared about her.

  Randy came into the room and shucked his jeans. He raised his eyebrows at her, sent her a mock leer, then crawled into the bed on her left. His kiss was sweet and left her waiting for more.

  “I never thought we’d share a bed under these circumstances,” she said. “Where none of us is naked. I vote for naked.”

  “Not tonight, sweetheart.” Randy snuggled up close to her side.

  “Definitely not tonight. We’re making a concession being under the sheet with you for the rest of the night. Tomorrow’s soon enough for more.” Lewis got in on her right side. “Do you want a pillow for your hand?”

  “Your chest, please.” She thought if they couldn’t be naked and make love, the least they could do was cuddle her. At that moment in time, cuddling suddenly held a great deal of appeal.

  “Come here.” Lewis drew her to him, and his touch felt so reverent. He helped her get comfortable, with her sore hand on his chest. Her head settled into the curve of his shoulder.

  “This is just the right height. The throbbing is beginning to ease some.”

  “Good.” Lewis laid his hand on her left arm, and his heat—the man was nearly like a furnace—went a long way toward assuaging the ache in her hand. Or maybe that was the medication she’d so recently taken.

  Randy spooned her. He placed a kiss on her cheek. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. We’re here.”

  We’re here. Two simple words, but absolutely the two right words. She felt herself begin to slide into sleep and just let go.

  * * * *

  Michaela was having the most erotic dream, ever. Warmth and tiny sizzles of electricity spread throughout her body. Her nipples hardened, and she felt an urge… A mewl escaped as her pelvic floor muscles clenched, sending a shard of pure horniness to her clit. Dampness reminded her of the wet dreams she’d been having, and just like that, she knew that, this time, it was no dream.

  “Open your eyes, baby girl.”

  Eyes opened, she looked up into the faces of both men, on their sides, peering down at her. Randy blew out a breath, and she understood, as that heated air caressed her naked flesh, that her tank top was no longer on her body.

  “Good morning.” It was the best she could come up with. Her entire body felt as if it had begun to hum. She was horny and wanted nothing more than for these two men to be doing something about that little thing. Now.

  “It’s about to be the best morning, ever,” Randy said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Their kisses had been the best she’d ever had. She’d bet everything else would blow what she’d known as sexual satisfaction right out of the water.

  “Are you in a lot of pain?” Lewis asked.

  Pain? Oh yeah, my hand. “No, it’s not even as bad as it was when we got up earlier and ate.”

  Lewis grinned, and then he moved. Before she could blink, he was on his knees by her ankles. He reached up and began to tug her sleep shorts down. As soon as he had them off her, he put his hands on her legs. Following his unspoken command, she opened them—making a place for him, which he immediately occupied.

  “If you’re not feeling up to this, sweet thing, tell me now.”

  Not up to it? After that hot wake-up call they’d just delivered, after spending the night safe and secure between them, with their body heat warming her and their wonderful aroma permeating every cell in her body? She was way more than up to it. What she needed to do was to let them
know in real stark and earthy terms what she wanted—what she, by damn, needed.

  “Lewis? Less talk, more action. Please, put your mouth on my cunt and eat me.”

  His smile was breathtaking—but not nearly as breathtaking as the moment when he lowered his smile to her sex and granted her request.

  Chapter Nine

  Michaela’s eyes closed, and she saw stars.

  Her memory of that long-ago lover and the so-called joy of sex had dimmed. Her own hand and her B.O.B.—battery operated boyfriend—had given her more excitement than Aaron ever had. But this? This must be what inspired all those love songs and poems!

  “Oh, yes! Lewis!” She whimpered, and she clawed, mentally, for that state of rapture she knew hovered just out of reach. Enticing, alluring, the call of that orgasm filled her.

  Lewis used his tongue to brush her clit, his teeth to nip her thigh, and then closed his mouth over her slit and sucked. The draw, the pull, she didn’t know how to cope, how to react. Wild and wet, sweet and seductive, Lewis’s intimate kiss drew her higher, so much higher than she’d known she could climb.

  “I love hearing my name on your lips when I pleasure you.”

  He’d barely lifted his mouth to speak, sending his verbal vibrations across her wet, already sensitive flesh. She needed more. She needed…all.

  “Lewis, Lewis, Lewis…” Her head tossed from side to side. She tried to reach down, wanted to comb her fingers through his hair.

  Her left arm was behind Randy. As if thinking his name animated him, that man used a gentle finger on her chin, turning her face toward him.

  “Give me your mouth, sweetheart. I need to taste you as you come.”

  Her head turned, and she opened her mouth. Randy’s lips and tongue owned her. In bold, broad strokes, his tongue invaded her mouth as his lips suckled gently on hers. She took as she gave and drank in Randy’s flavor. The joy of the moment, two lovers tasting her, flooded her with a sense of rightness, of destiny.