by Mia Moon
“Oh, god. Andrew. I loved it.”
“Good,” he leaned up to look down at me. Moonlight cast a dim blue glow over his golden face. “That’s a safe place I can send you to. Whenever you want. I want to protect you and make you feel safe, Bree.”
“You do,” I said, pushing back the shaggier tips of his hair. “I always feel safe when I’m with you.”
The smile that lit his face brought the angel out in full force. But I’d never underestimate the sex appeal of the devil lurking just beneath his surface.
Chapter Eight
The next week was almost enough to take back all the good things I’d been feeling about myself. Work overwhelmed me, and I procrastinated, letting it pile up. By Friday, I couldn't justify my morning run with all I had left to do. I beat myself up for that—work should never get in the way of my sanity.
That was the moment I realized work was no longer the thing keeping me sane.
Despite that glowing realization and the much-needed boost of confidence that came with it, I still had to get the damn work done.
So, I isolated myself. It felt strange, after weeks of interaction with the guys. Luckily, they didn’t take offense. They explained it was a hectic week at the station with tornado season coming up. We texted when we could, but it wasn’t the same.
I bought enough wine, cheese, and crackers to get me through two tornado seasons. The TV ran for background noise while I pounded away at my keyboard, aching to finish it all so I could have some fun.
Me! Fun! Who would have thought?!
When I finally wrapped work up and turned my phone back on to check my messages, I had so many from the guys I couldn't keep up. They were worried—they hadn’t seen or heard from me.
I sent out a group message. Hey guys. I’m okay, just had a million words to write and edit.
I’d hardly hit send before my doorbell rang.
I blinked at it, excitement drawing me out of my work stupor as I crossed the floor and peeked through the peephole. Eric stood outside, his vintage muscle car visible under the streetlight behind him. I opened the door, casting the dim light of the TV over his dark complexion and darker eyes.
His grinned and tucked me into a hug. “Hey, you!”
“What are you doing here? I thought you had a rigorous schedule this week!”
“I freed it up.” That adorable shyness that was his and his alone crept into his response. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Okay,” I said, moving to close the door behind him.
He caught it with one hand, his other hand coming up to cup the side of my neck. His long, strong fingers stroked my skin. “Come home with me tonight. I’m the only one you haven’t…I mean…would you want to? I’d really like it.”
I swallowed hard. I’d been dreaming about him—literally. My male deprivation had sent me spiraling through a week of fucking fantastic sex dreams.
“How far?” I bit out. Why did I get the feeling he might not give me what I wanted if I wouldn’t creep outside my safe space?
“It’s on the edge,” he told me, understanding in his eyes and tone. “I get it if you can’t. But, I’d love it if you’d trust me enough to go that far with me.”
I drew in a shaky breath. “A mile?”
“Right at,” he said. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while. You look like you could use some coffee. Or vodka. Maybe a burger or milkshake? Or it doesn’t have to be any of that. It could just be us. Whatever you want.”
Panic welled up, clawing at my chest, but I forced it down. No. I could do this. It might be all I could give, but I’d give it.
That was how I found myself on the verge of a panic attack in the passenger seat of Eric’s car. Trembling as we got farther from my home. Away from safety and into the almost unknown.
“Are you okay?” he asked, letting me clutch his hand so hard he would probably have bruises.
I shook and practiced breathing like Jonathan had taught me. “No, but I will be,” I gritted out through clenched teeth.
He pulled his car into a sloped drive next to a small one-story home. “We’re here,” he said, squeezing back gently on the fingers that dug into his flesh. “That’s it.”
I grounded myself, focusing on the things I could see. The garden flag in front of the house. It had the same seal on it the bigger version at the fire station bore. I felt the contact of the car seat beneath me. My hand—the one that wasn’t clinging to Eric as my only lifeline—had a death grip on my seatbelt.
I was there. I was safe. No bad had befallen me or anyone else around me.
“I’m okay,” I whispered, for both of our benefits.
Eric smoothed the hair back from my sweaty brow, and I made a face.
“What was that?” he asked, tipping his head down to catch my gaze. His worried brows caught me off-guard. It dawned on me that behind that bravado he talked about, there really was a shy, tiny little boy in there, still fearful of rejection.
I definitely wasn’t rejecting him. I was sure it was more likely he’d reject me after seeing me break down like that.
“I’m sweaty and kind of nuts,” I told him. “You can’t find either of those things attractive.”
His thumb traced the slope of my jaw. “Baby, I never see crazy when I look at you. And we all get sweaty sometimes—though I’d like it better if you were sweaty for different reasons,” he said with a teasing wink. “You’re going to have to do a whole hell of a lot better than that if you want to chase me away.”
I caught it. That second whisper masked behind his playful words.
He was begging me to care—asking me not to turn away from him.
I gave him the biggest, surest smile I could muster. “You’d better take me inside then. The longer I sit out here, the sweatier I’ll get for all the wrong reasons.”
He laughed out loud and unfurled himself from the low car. He was on me before I could get the door all the way open, pulling me out and leading me with so much excitement to his front door.
In a flurry of movement, he opened the door, hooked my waist, spun me into the room, and kicked the door closed behind us.
“Hot damn, baby. It’s so nice to see you here,” he said, taking in the view of me standing, still dizzy from that spin, in the center of his front hall.
It was a quaint little place—white shiplap walls, rustic wood accessories, and brushed bronze fixtures. It looked as adventurous as Eric always seemed, but had that quiet calm he brought with him, too.
He slipped his shoes off and put them on a little mat inside the door, so I did the same. Then I followed him, barefoot, as he toured me around the house. It wasn’t fancy. One bedroom, one bath. A couple of closets. Kitchen and living room. The backyard was decked out, though, with two hammocks, a circle of chairs around a firepit, and a huge grill. A kayak rested in a wall rack. A bike hung from the ceiling, within Eric’s reach I guessed—it was certainly over my head. I wondered how on Earth he transported either, realizing he must have a second vehicle—or maybe he got help from Andrew or Jonathan.
“How about a drink?” he asked.
He was tardy with that offer—I was already drinking him in.
Something about his bare feet, low-slung jeans, and the loose button-down he’d put on before he’d left the station had me itching for a taste, too.
“I’m good,” I said, following him as he stepped back into his cool, dark kitchen.
He flicked the light on over the sink. It bathed the room in a circle of pale gold, dancing with the shadows from the darkness outside its reaches. “I’m sorry this week took us away from you,” he said, leaning his elbows on the counter. “It’s been so busy.”
“You don't have to explain,” I said, standing across from him, my back to his tiny kitchen table. “I totally get it.”
“Do you?” He smiled with genuine relief. “I’ve found it’s tough to stay connected with people outside my line of work. They feel like I’m snubbing them when things
are busy. I get regular calls from my mother asking if I’ve forgotten about her. I always have to remind her there’s no way I could forget about her.”
I nodded. “My parents practically live on a cruise ship right now, but I know what you mean. When I still lived downtown, I could easily go two or three days without calling them.” I shrugged. “Not that it’s comparable to what you do. But still.”
“No, I can see the parallels.” He winked, a playful bat of his black eyelash. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m a jerk.”
I shook my head. “I could never think that.”
He pushed off from the counter and swaggered over to me. His face was hesitant, though his moves were bold. “Thank you for taking the chance and coming all this way,” he said when he stopped in front of me. “The guys haven’t, you know, bragged or talked about being with you or anything. But we’re too close for me to miss the fact that they’re both a whole hell of a lot happier since they spent some alone time with you.”
“Are you jealous?” I asked, half teasing, half not.
“No,” he said, sincerity ringing in the word. “We share. It’s what we do.”
“And you still want to share me?” I asked, taking a chance and twining my fingers between his.
“God, yes,” he choked out, eyes wide at the contact between us.
I knew he had experience. Probably a whole hell of a lot more than I did. But he looked at me like I was the one who knew what she was doing. That sweet look of trust and hope broke me. I stepped closer, right against him and cupped his face with my hands.
He tilted his chin down, surprised when I rose on tiptoes to press a kiss over his soft lips. He hesitated only for a breath before opening his mouth, and I smiled against him, flicking my tongue against his.
He groaned and curved his hands over my back, pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. Delighted, I stroked his face with my thumbs, tracing them over his clean-shaven, sculpted cheeks.
“You’re beautiful,” he said, pulling away to catch his breath. His soulful eyes captured mine. “You’re perfect. Do you have any idea how much I’ve thought about you? How hard it’s been to keep my hands to myself? To wait my turn? But, fuck, baby. I’m so glad I waited. They tease me about being better with competition. Better under pressure, but they’re right. I feel like I’ve got something to prove, and goddamn if I don’t want to prove it to you.
“You’re sweet,” I blushed with the compliment. “I’ve thought about you too. So much. In ways I probably shouldn’t have”
“Oh yeah?” he asked, that adventurous tease creeping back in. His curiosity almost matched my own in intensity. “Tell me,” he whispered against my lips, his hands resting on my waist, thumbs playing with the band of the stretchy running pants I’d lived in all day.
“That picture you guys sent me,” I said. “That was your idea, wasn’t it?”
He laughed. “Yeah, I’m guilty as charged on that one.”
“Let’s just say it gave me plenty to fantasize about when I crawled into bed with my private box of toys.”
He growled, long and low. Guttural and needy. “Did you play with yourself while you thought about me?” he demanded, kissing and nipping my neck, focusing on the sensitive spot below my ear. “Did you touch that sweet pussy with those dainty fucking fingers of yours? Did you come for me? Wet and hot and needy down those tight little thighs?”
I gasped and cried out “Mmmhmm” as he slid his fingers into the band of my pants, stretching them out and sliding them down, taking my panties with them.
Those dark eyes stayed locked on me, searching for a sign that I wanted him to stop. He wouldn’t see that on my face. I wanted him to keep going. I wanted more of him.
“Is this okay?” he whispered, need causing his hands to tremble as he traced them down my thighs and calves. Making a slow descent to his knees before me and staring up at me, begging me to answer.
“Yes!” I said, gripping a hand in his hair to hold myself steady, pants pooled around my ankles.
He slid one hot hand back up to cup between my thighs, and I braced my other hand on his shoulder. He grasped my thighs and pulled them apart. I spread my legs as far as I could, but my pants got in the way.
Eric chuckled and steadied me, helping me lift first one foot and then the other before he dragged the pants and panties away. He spread warmth over my legs as he kissed and licked his way back up. “Damn, baby. So hot and sweet and I haven’t even gotten a taste yet. What are you doing to me, Bree? I’ll never be the same.”
He pushed his face between my thighs, all hot breath when he nuzzled my clit. He moaned. “Sweeter than I imagined. How the hell—” It was as if he couldn’t hold himself back long enough to finish the sentence. He dragged his tongue over the entire length of my entrance before kissing it like he would my mouth. He held himself closer, those big, strong hands clutching my ass. He tilted his head to tease his tongue inside me, prodding deeper and licking my clit with consuming precision. He was so good at it. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had made me feel this way with only their mouth. I wasn’t used to being able to orgasm without the aid of fingers or a cock.
“Holy hell, Eric. That feels amazing,” I whispered.
Encouraged, he pressed his tongue deeper, teasing the rim of my pussy with the tip. Then he closed his lips over my clit and flattened his tongue against me.
I yelped, my free hand springing up to clasp over my mouth before going back to his hair. I hadn’t expected this to feel so good.
A shockwave of electricity struck me the with realization that I was already on the edge. Everything tightened as Eric kept up the relentless, glorious assault within the tight vacuum of his lips. The rush of my own arousal hit me, dripping down my legs when he pulled his mouth away.
He lowered his mouth to my hot folds again, worshipping me in long, smooth strokes. My thighs shook, and I clenched them around his face. Trembling need spread down to my knees. I was in danger of losing my balance, but fuck, I loved how slick his face was from being pressed so tight against me.
He grazed his hand up my leg, fingers brushing the outside of my entrance.
“No, please,” I moaned, clutching his hair. “I’ve never been able to—I want to come like this—from your mouth!” I gasped out in short pants brimming with desire.
He released a laugh against my entrance—his breath soft and warm—before renewing his strokes, stronger and faster. I moved my hips, grinding down on his face and tongue, itching for more. I was so close, and the racing of my heart pounded all the way down in my core. Tighter…tighter…ready to snap.
When the tension broke, I came in waves, drenching his face in my satisfaction. He moaned against my sensitive skin and lapped at my entrance, drinking in all the salt, wetness, musk, and need.
“That was amazing,” I whispered, catching my breath in gasps. I trembled too hard to stand on my own, and I didn’t want this contact to end, so I clung to Eric, reveling in the moment. I was so worked up I was sure any brush against my body would send me over the edge again. “I never…”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, a caveman-like gesture I’d never have guessed I was into until that exact moment. “You taste fantastic.”
No one had ever told me that before. But goddammit, the compliment thrilled me.
“You know, though,” he said, holding my hip to steady me while he rose back to his full, towering height. “I’m not sure I got it quite right. Maybe we should try again in my bed. The angle might be better.”
“Oh!” I gasped out a giggle. “Do you really think so?” I teased.
“Only one way to find out,” he said. Without warning, he ducked down and tucked his shoulder into my stomach, lifting me off the ground with ease.
“What the heck are you doing?!” I shrieked with excited laughter.
“This here’s the fireman’s carry, baby. It’s what a big, manly dude like me does when he wants to claim a woman and take her
back to his cave, so he can ravish her worries away.”
I laughed all the way down the hall, not arguing, because that whole ravishing the worries away thing sounded pretty damned good to me.
Chapter Nine
It had been six weeks since I’d seen the guys in person, outside of my morning runs. Even that contact had slowed to a trickle. I guess they didn’t think they had as much to look forward to these days when I ran by. I felt awful, but I couldn’t blame them.
After my night in Eric’s bed, my emotions and issues had snapped back hard like a rubber band at full tension. Maybe toeing the edge of my safe perimeter had been too much. Or perhaps it was the weather, which grew worse as tornado season peaked. All I knew was that next Monday when I woke up in my own bed, I didn’t think I could make it to the grocery store again. Like, ever.
That safe zone had vacuumed sealed around the edges of my yard. My sofa-dwelling nightmares were next.
I’d used the last little bit of sense I had to tug the cream-colored card Jonathan had given me from the depths of my purse. The counseling group had six different providers. My only hope was that one of them had room in their caseload for someone who needed help.
I was desperate when I made the call. But it was one of the best calls I'd ever made. Therapy was turning out to be a lifesaver.
I was so glad I’d taken steps to get help as I stared in shock at my computer screen. Terry the Editor had sent me my latest column question. I read it again and again.
We’re three best friends who share everything. Our love for your column (though we can’t agree on which one is best) our job, our lives, our jokes, everything. Even women.
For a long time, we’ve been searching for the right woman. The kind of woman who might want to be with us. We’re all different. One shy. One troubled. One control freak. But we’re pretty sure we’ve found the woman who understands all of us, and we want to ask her to be ours. Officially and exclusively.
The thing is, we think we might have scared her away and we want her to know she doesn’t have to be afraid. We’ll meet her on her level—right where she’s most comfortable. If she’ll accept us, we’ll do anything it takes to make her happy, every single day.