by Vivian Arend
She licked him clean. Caressed his strong leg muscles as she leaned her cheek against the band of muscle above where his thigh and torso met. Her heart pounded, and his touch on her head made her heart leap. It was a caress, a fleeting stroke with his fingers, soft as anything, followed by a delicate brush of his knuckles over her cheek.
How many more times would she have before this weekend was over? How many times to try and tell them without words how much they meant to her? Because falling in love had never been a part of their agreement.
Tears rushed to her eyes and she blinked them away. When he reached down and assisted her to her feet, she twisted to hide under the shower, letting the droplets of water camouflage her sadness.
Mason nestled their bodies together, his semi-hard cock tucked against her.
“That was bloody fine.” He kissed her, slow and easy, one hand cupping her face to keep her in position. She wondered if he tasted his seed. The evidence of how much she wanted all of him?
And all of Trent—and that was where she was damned. Because there was no way to possibly choose one of them and say goodbye to the other. Not only because they were “best mates”, but because…
She couldn’t choose.
“I love doing it. And more.” Paige stared into his eyes, enjoying the way they twinkled at her as he leaned in for another round.
Mason kissed her, drawing a moan of satisfaction from her in the way he made love to her mouth. He really was the most fantastic kisser. Plus all the other things he did with that mouth—sinfully good. Both the guys went down on her without any provocation.
She’d never had a boyfriend like that back home in Canada. Hopefully it wasn’t a genetic trait only built into Aussie men, because it was another thing she was going to really miss.
Like I need another reason to miss them other than I’ve fallen in love, two times over…
A soft chuckle interrupted her thoughts. “What’s that sigh for?”
Oops—as if she was about to tell him the truth. “You make me happy, Mason.”
“And that makes you sigh? Damn. I was going for screaming meant happy.”
Paige turned in his arms. “We’ll do the screaming bit later. How about we go and take a peek around the resort? Trent can catch up with us once he’s done visiting with his sister.”
Mason nodded. “She’s done alright for herself, hasn’t she?”
He reached past Paige and twisted off the water. The towels were fluffy, enormous and heated to perfection on the radiant towel bar.
“This place is incredible. I’m sure Kylie worked hard to make it as manager.”
Mason scooped her into his arms and carried her to the main room, ignoring the king-sized bed. She stared longingly after it. Even though she did want to see more of the resort and give Kylie proper congratulations, there was so little time. And while sex wasn’t the only thing she enjoyed with the boys, it was definitely one thing she couldn’t do over IM or Skype once she was gone.
He lowered her carefully, nuzzling her cheek with his own. “We’ve all been working hard. Trent, me. You.”
“I don’t—” The words choked off. She didn’t want to tell him about the farewell party her coworkers had given her. Yesterday had been her final day on the job—and while she could bake pastries anywhere, it was another indicator of the countdown clock marking off her final hours.
Mason snagged her chin in his fingers firmly, refusing to let her avoid his gaze. “I swear you spend more time baking than some CEOs of major corps spend in the office.”
Because when I’m not with you or Trent, work is all I’ve got. “That wasn’t what I was going to say. We all have to earn a living. I bake—and pastry chefs work strange hours—you should know that by now.”
His hands hadn’t stopped the entire time since he’d set her on her feet. Every inch he dried not only steamed from the heat of the towel, but the sheer eroticism of his fingers.
His very thorough fingers.
“Well, I think you need to consider taking it easy for a little while. Between all the work and the adventuring you’ve dragged us on, Trent and I, I don’t think you’ve stopped once over the past year.”
Her throat closed tight. She’d take it easy when she left Aussie soil. “I just want to be with you guys.”
He slid a hand down her torso, admiration in his face. “I’m looking forward to this weekend. I’m going to do everything in my power to ensure you enjoy yourself, more than you ever have before.” His lips met hers, a soft, brief caress.
“I always enjoy my time with you.”
Mason’s grin flashed past sinful as he ogled her body, but his expression as he settled on her face was less lecherous, more caring. “Grab your swimmers, and we’ll hit the surf before stuffing our faces with grub. The waves look fun.”
Paige retreated to the back bedroom where she’d stashed her suitcase. As she pulled on her swimsuit, her thoughts whirled.
Was she going to enjoy the weekend? Physically, she had no doubts that she’d be sated and completely satisfied long before their time together ended. Emotionally? She needed to brace her few remaining walls, or the coming heartache was going to kill her.
Chapter Three
Trent drummed his fingers on the railing as he leaned over and examined the swimming pool spread below him like a shimmering jewel. “Are you sure she’s not there?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Sullivan, but she’s not in the office, and while she’s got a mobile phone, it’s strictly for emergencies during the soft opening.” The woman on the other end of the phone sounded professional, tactful—and controlling as hell. Trent made a mental note to let Kylie know her assistant was certainly on the money for keeping the wolves at bay.
Although as her bro, he wasn’t sure he counted as a wolf.
“Fine, leave a message confirming her brother Trent is here, and if she’s got a minute, call.”
“Very good, sir. Enjoy your stay.”
Trent strolled along the smooth walkway, the rich greenery on either side of him lush and full. A deluge of bright red and pink tropical flowers flooded the trails between the resort buildings with their perfume. Combined with the cloudless sky and the distant roar of the ocean, all the elements formed a perfect picture of paradise.
Now if only he had a few reassurances he wasn’t going to be kicked out of the Garden of Eden prematurely. Their time with Paige hadn’t been nearly long enough. Was suggesting they veer from their original “nothing but fun” commitment going to ruin everything?
A bench tucked into the foliage beside the path attracted him and he paused, sprawling on the curved wood seating. He hadn’t left the room that long ago—Mason and Paige were probably still fucking each other’s brains out. His dick stirred at the thought of going and watching them, but fair was fair. He’d had some time alone with her. Now he’d be a sport and let Mason have the same.
Funny how the three of them just…fit. They’d never had a major issue, nothing more than a few squabbles, ever since they met. Of course, neither he nor Mason had ever broken the rules with her, certainly not like they’d been discussing privately for the past two months.
Since high school he and Mason had dreamed about taking an extended sailing trip along the Australian coastline. When the perfect yacht had shown up for sale at the harbor, they’d jumped at the chance to buy her. Paradise was exactly what they needed for the trip—trim and yet spacious enough for comfort. The timing was right for him to take a sabbatical from his job at customs, and Mason could write anywhere. All their harebrained plans were falling into place but for one major obstacle.
Paige.
They’d never imagined having someone like her in their life back in their original brainstorming days. Leaving her behind as they headed off? Impossible. Not because they wanted her along for sex, but because she would totally get the advent
ure. The whole trip was something she would appreciate—a way to experience more of the world. Leaving Canada in the first place to come to Australia had proven she had the drive.
But would she be willing to give up her job as a pastry chef to set out into the wild for half a year with them? Part of him said yes—she’d been open and game for so much in the past. Part of him thought he was nuts.
He tilted his head back to stare into the blue sky. A couple of birds warbled at him from an overhead branch and he laughed. It wasn’t the idea of inviting her to join them on the ship that freaked him out. It was asking her to change their casual rules to something more intimate. How would she take the news that both he and Mason had fallen in love with her? Most women would run screaming.
Paige wasn’t most women—and she’d been happily involved sexually with two men for a year now, but there was a wide gap between casual and permanent. Permanent implied words like family and marriage and all the things not usually associated with fucking-flings.
His mobile phone rang, and when he checked the number he frowned in confusion. Work? What the hell do they want?
“Sullivan here.” God, don’t let it be work calling him in for another emergency at the docks. There was no way he wanted to leave Bandicoot Cove before they’d told Paige what he and Mason hoped for. They had to muddle their way forward, and soon.
“Hey, Trent. Bad news. Your leave has been approved. I’ve got the papers here, awaiting your signature.”
Relief shot through Trent like an electric zap. “Fuck it—you nearly gave me a heart attack, you bastard. How did you do that so fast? And what do I owe you?”
Charles’s deep laugh carried over the line. “It’s not rocket science, mate. Admit it, you hate paperwork. Good thing you’ve got a friend in the government form department. I can get you anything you need, right?”
Trent’s head spun. Another step forward to making the trip a reality. “Can you email the form to me? Fax—courier? Whatever the hell you need.”
“No worries. You’ll have it in the morning. I have one question, though.”
“What?”
“When’s the wedding?”
Trent choked, snapping upright. “What?”
Silence screamed at him from the other end of the line for a second. “Good one. You had me going for a minute. Mason Wood called and asked me to grab a Notice of Intended Marriage form for you as well. If that’s not right, I’ll leave it out of the package.”
His brain had gone numb. With one fell swoop all his grey matter had ceased to function. Why had—? No, don’t ask, just accept it and kill Mason later. “No, no, that’s fine. Sorry, I…misheard you. There’s—” Trent glanced around frantically, looking for an excuse. He whipped off his shoe and dragged it against the slats on the back of the bench. The heel made a thump, thump noise that echoed nicely. “There’s someone working on the fence—it was a little loud for a minute. Distracting. Send everything over, with instructions, and we’ll take care of the rest.”
“You got it. Catch you for a beer next weekend? Last one before you take off?”
“You bet.” Trent gave the shoe another couple of dedicated drags to ensure the staccato noise registered louder in the phone than his heart, its violent pounding ringing audibly in his ears. “My shout. You’re a lifesaver.”
Charles hung up and Trent’s shoe fell unminded from his fingers as he slammed in the speed dial for Mason’s phone. Screw it if he was interrupting anything. The bloke had a lot to answer for.
An Intent of Marriage form? What the hell was Mason doing?
Trent fidgeted, slipping his shoe back on and stomping the path toward the beach area. The phone rang four times before flipping to Mason’s voice message and Trent growled, snapping his phone off and shoving it in his pocket.
Marriage. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought of the institute. Had no issues with it. His parents were still rock solid, and somewhere down the road he always figured he’d get hitched.
He pictured getting to wake up next to Paige every morning for the rest of his life. Experiencing her enthusiasm, not only for a weekend at a time, but daily. Hourly.
Nightly.
Hell yeah.
But the plan he thought he and Mason had agreed on was to convince Paige to travel with them, then slowly let her know they wanted more than a casual situation. Allow her to switch gears from this being a fling to something they were serious about. Let her make up her mind about marriage and everything else in her own time.
He reached the end of the path, the greenery giving way to the white sand beach, recliners and sun umbrellas in pristine rows waiting for resort-goers. Trent ditched his shoes and socks, and an attendant appeared out of nowhere to whisk them away to individual cubbies tucked discreetly behind an unobtrusive mesh screen. The man raced back with a chilled water bottle and a towel before offering to assist in finding a chair. Trent waved him off.
The sand warmed the soles of his feet, the midday sun heating the beach and his body nicely. Now if he could find a way to settle the flipping firecrackers going off in his brain.
He grabbed a chair and dragged it partway down the beach. There were only a handful of people around—Kylie had mentioned that Friday morning was going to be slower for the trial run at the resort, with most of the practice guests arriving for the big party in the evening. He’d deliberately brought the yacht in on the morning tide to make the most of every available minute, and while he didn’t regret it…fuck. How were they going to tell Paige what he and Mason had planned? And what was the bloody plan?
The sand flew from under his toes as he aligned his chair with the sun. One leg straddling each side, he sat, the thick cushion under his hips cradling him softly. Here he was in the lap of luxury and he was…
Miserable. Bloody, whacked-out fool.
Two silhouettes darted from the greenery and raced for the ocean, and he watched distractedly, mind racing. If Paige were willing to marry him, he’d have no objections.
Mason—fuckit. He’d been the bloke who told Charles to organize a marriage form in the first place. Was there something his best mate and his woman weren’t telling him? Shit.
The last time they’d made a rendezvous for a weekend get together, he’d had to cancel. He’d been called in to do an emergency job for the customs crew. Normally his position as a customs inspector—scuba diving to examine the hulls of visiting vessels—was a entertaining way to make a living, and rarely did it interfere with his private life, but what if this time something had happened?
He growled at himself, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and yanking it off. Now he was acting like a teenager and imaging all sorts of plots and problems where there was nothing that couldn’t be solved with a little conversation.
Trent leaned back and opened the water bottle, chugging thirstily. Images of Paige greeting him in her sexy outfit flitted past and he had to adjust his dick, wiggling in the chair in a losing battle to find a comfortable position.
A rolling line of white broke smoothly along the crest of the wave the swimmers played in. Trent’s trained eye measured the speed of the curl—there wasn’t enough of a current off Bilby Island to surf, or even body surf. The couple didn’t seem to mind. Their bodies glistened in the sunlight, water splashing everywhere as they stood and let the waves knock them over.
Images flashed, a memory of the sun flashing bright against surging water. The day they’d met Paige…
“Done making a fool of yourself, mate?”
Trent raised his middle finger and held it firmly in Mason’s direction, smirking as laughter bounced back at him. He gripped the skimboard resolutely, timing his approach. He took a run at the surf, dropped the flat wooden board and stepped on top. The thin layer of water between the board and the sand allowed him to spin lightly in a half circle as he shifted his body weight.
Then
he hit something and flipped arse-first to the sand. Again.
This time it wasn’t only the sound of Mason’s amusement that rang in his ears. There were a couple of long-legged women sunning nearby on the white sands of Bondi Beach. One blonde, one brunette—both smiling admiringly his direction. He pulled himself out of his awkward sprawl and tossed them a wink, rising to dust off the sand.
The women were still watching, and his interest rose. Two of them—that worked, since both he and Mason were without any female companionship at the moment.
“Well done. Still no broken bones.” Mason slapped him on the shoulder. “You ready for me to show you how it’s really done?”
Trent rolled his eyes and passed over the board. “Drinks on you when you fuck up.”
“Deal.”
Mason didn’t take more than five seconds to eyeball the water before he shouted and raced forward, dancing over the surface as if he had wings on his heels.
Bastard.
After a final flamboyant twirl, Mason snatched up the board and cockily strolled back to Trent’s side. “Lessons anytime, mate.”
“That offer open to anyone?”
The lightly accented question came from the beachside. The brunette Trent had admired rose to her feet and joined them. Her one-piece suit wasn’t the most revealing on the beach, but she had curves in all the right places, and Trent’s appreciation was reflected on Mason’s face.
Mason made a mock bow. “You brave enough to try?”
Light shrug. “Doesn’t look too dangerous. If I fall I’ll just get back up.” She held out her hand. “Paige Kingston.”
“Trent Sullivan.” He pointed at his mate. “Mason Wood.”
She nodded at Mason, then glanced over her shoulder. “Meg, you want to try?”
The blonde grimaced. “Gad no. You’re mad.”
Paige turned back to them, muttering “stick in the mud” under her breath.
“Where you from, love?” Mason asked with a grin.
“Canada.” She faced him square on. “You going to teach me? I like your technique better than Trent’s.”