THE RULE OF THREE: A.C.H.E., MOTO, and TRINITY

by Never , M.

  “You have an imagination. Use it,” she returns curtly.

  What the fuck? She’s rude as hell, and all it does is turn me the fuck on. “I have. Baby, I think the only thing hotter than you straddling me is you straddling my bike.”

  Kayla pauses all movements. I press my head into my pillow because I’m pretty sure she’s going to slap me.

  To my surprise, she just shakes her head and laughs. “You’re as bad as your brother.”

  “Because we’re both compulsive flirts?”

  “Flirts? Try compulsive players.”

  “We do share the exact same DNA.”

  Kayla just huffs. “Is there anything you need before I go? I have seven other patients I need to see.”

  I have a laundry list of things I need from Kayla. I wasn’t kidding about her straddling me.

  “I’m good for now,” I lie.

  “If you need anything, you know what to do.”

  “Yup. Ring, ring.” I watch her strut out of the room, her slim hips and tight ass on full display.

  * * *

  It’s three a.m. and I’ve done nothing but toss and turn. My mind won’t turn off. I just keep thinking and thinking and thinking. About the accident, about racing, about my career, about my life, and surprisingly, about Kayla.

  Three months out of commission. That means three missed races, a shit ton of lost points, and a wasted chance at defending my title. I’ll be thirty in February. Young by society’s standards, ancient in the racing world. I think that’s what kills me the most—not knowing if I have another championship year left in me. Being forced to watch some young hotshot take it all because I’ve burned out. I left home when I was eighteen years old and never looked back. My first year going pro, I placed in almost every race, catapulting my career. The past three years I’ve come into my own, becoming world champion two times over. This year, I was defending my title for the third time--a formidable feat.

  Lying here in the dark thinking about it makes me goddamn crazy.

  I ring compulsively for a nurse.

  “Yes, Mr. Dane?” Kayla’s voice comes over the speaker.

  “I need to pee.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  I click on the light and start to shift on the mattress. I have a fucking cast swallowing one leg and a bandage around the other. I’m a damn mess, and I fucking hate it.

  “Where are you trying to go, moto?” Kayla grabs one of my arms before I fall right on my face.

  “To take a piss before I have an accident. I didn’t know how long you were going to take.”

  “Apparently not very long since I’m here.” She helps me to stand and hands me my crutches.

  “The other nurses take forever.”

  “I’m not the other nurses.” We walk slowly across the room.

  “I’ve noticed.” I slip through the bathroom door.

  “Do you need me come in with you?”

  “No, I’m good.” I position myself in front the john.

  “I’ll be right here if you need me.” She closes the door, leaving it open just a crack.

  I juggle the hospital gown and crutches, trying to find a steady position. Once I’m wrapped like a friggin’ mummy and balancing on one crutch, I relieve myself.

  Ugh, I groan. The only thing that would be better right now is a shower and a blowjob.

  Once I’m done, I shake my dick and attempt to put myself back together, but the crappy robe gets tangled with the crutch, and I end up smashing into the wall. “Goddammit!” The impact rattles all the way to my ankles, and I nearly fall over from the pain.

  “Reese?” Kayla rushes in just in time to keep me on my feet.

  “You okay?” She steadies me.

  “No, I’m not fucking okay!” I explode, slamming my fist into the tile. “I can’t even take a leak without help!”

  “You’re hurt. It’s normal.”

  “I hate it! I hate all this shit!” I try to push away from her, but she surprises me and holds on steadfastly.

  “It won’t be like this forever. Every day you heal a little more and get stronger.”

  Stronger, right.

  “I feel useless.” I look down into her compassionate brown eyes. They’re so sincere. I’m not used to people looking at me like that. Like they can actually see the person behind the star.

  “What would make you feel better? What would help right this second?” she asks.

  My lip twitches. “A shower?” I go with the safe answer because I’m sure blowjob would get me knocked out.

  “Well, that’s sort of out of the question with the cast. But I think we can improvise.”

  “Improvise?” She has my full attention.

  “Mmm hmm. Let’s get you back to bed, and then I’ll take care of you.”

  I raise my eyebrows, my tongue wagging to say something completely inappropriate. But I don’t want to ruin whatever she has planned.

  Once back on my medieval death board, I watch Kayla move around the room gathering multiple items: towels, a sponge, and a pink bucket. My excitement mounts.

  “How do you like your water?” Kayla pokes her head out of the bathroom, some dark hair falling over her eye.

  “Hotter the better.”

  “Got it.” A few minutes later, she appears with a full bucket of water.

  On some level, this feels like the making of a porno. Hot nurse, dimly lit room, and me.

  “Strip, moto.” She’s playful and I love it. I don’t hesitate, ripping the flimsy robe from my chest.

  “Here.” She hands me a small cloth before the robe is completely gone. “Cover yourself.”

  “You don’t want to see the full package?”

  “We’ll get there.” She dunks the sponge into the water. I haven’t been so excited about anything in days. Not that I’m expecting a happy ending, but just the thought of warm water and a beautiful woman touching me makes my insides buzz.

  As soon as the sponge touches my skin, I break out in goosebumps, my muscles tightening in a gratifying way. Without even realizing it, I close my eyes and relax into the mattress as Kayla moves across my chest and down one of my arms. After a few more strokes, I find myself moaning softly, the casual caress of the sponge working like magic to destress my body and calm my mind. I hear Kayla giggle sweetly, and I pop my eyes open.

  “Am I entertaining you, Nurse Kincade?”

  “Not as much as I’m entertaining you, apparently.”

  “You have good hands.”

  “Did you actually just pay me a compliment?”

  “I did. Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “I promise I won’t,” she says as she brushes the sponge underneath the cloth covering my pelvis. My abdomen quivers as she does it again, our eyes locking in a heated stare.

  I test the waters, pulling the towel off so she can continue without any obstructions. I don’t know the protocol for sponge baths, but butt naked is fine with me. The only thing that would make this better is if Kayla was naked right along with me.

  Carefully, almost clinically, she rubs me clean, but I can hear the uptick in her breathing and see the points of her nipples under her scrubs. It excites me to know I’m affecting her as much as she’s affecting me. I moan a little louder as she strokes over my cock. It hardening and thickening unapologetically as she works me up. We never take our eyes off each other as the tension mounts in the room. After another minute of spine-tingling petting, I grab her wrist and squeeze, causing her to drop the sponge. My breathing is choppy, and my hormones are teeming. I need more. So much fucking more I may explode.

  “Put your mouth on me,” I order.

  Kayla hesitates for a beat before leaning down and kissing me. I jolt with surprise before succumbing to the connection. Not exactly what I meant, but I’ll take it. I shove my fingers in her dark hair and fuse our mouths as she wraps her hand around my shaft and jerks hard. Sternly, commandingly. Her authority takes me by surprise, but it shouldn’t. Kayla
has a presence even when she isn’t trying to convey one.

  I moan and lick and nip at her lips as she brings me higher and higher--so high I’m writhing and pumping my cock fitfully through her tight grip.

  “Fucking Christ, baby.” I grunt as I come, shoving my tongue as deeply into her mouth as I can. The tumultuous sensations tear my insides apart. Once the exhilarating tremors pass, and my stomach is coated with jizz, Kayla lets go of my cock like she just snapped out of a trance. She stares down at me with wide, startled eyes.

  “Fucking Christ is right.”

  9

  Kayla

  I suck in air as I hit the ten-mile mark on the treadmill. I punish my body as I play over and over what happened with Reese the other night. After I came to my fucking senses, I bolted out of his room like it was on fire.

  Stupid. Stupid. Not to mention completely unethical.

  I lost my fucking mind.

  That’s exactly what I’ll plead when I face the hospital administration. Temporary insanity mixed with sleep deprivation. I can’t be held responsible for my actions. Even though I enjoyed them. Immensely. That’s the worst part. I wanted it to go further. I wanted to straddle him just like an idling street bike.

  The only other person I’ve ever had feelings as strong for is Dev.

  What a complete fucking mess I am.

  My tendons scream and sweat pours down my neck as my feet pound on the revolving belt.

  “Morning.” Sam hops on the treadmill next to me, glancing at my display.

  “Honey, you’re pushing eleven miles. Are you doing penance for something?”

  “Huh?” I break concentration and trip over my feet. Sam acts fast, pulling the emergency shut off before I go down and break my neck.

  “Kayla!” She hauls me up and shoves a bottle of water in my face. “What’s going on with you?” Her voice elevates, highly concerned.

  “Nothing.” Everything. “I’ve just missed a bunch of workouts and was trying to catch up,” I lie between heaving gulps.

  She shoots me a doubtful look.

  “I swear,” I huff.

  “If you say so.” She turns on her machine once I’m steady and begins a brisk walk. I do the same, but at a much slower pace to cool down. I think I’ve punished my body enough for one day.

  One phrase keeps playing through my mind as I walk next to my intuitive aunt. Crystal clear.

  “How’s your man dilemma?” she asks casually.

  It just got a whole lot more complicated.

  “The same,” I fib again.

  I haven’t spoken to Dev for a few days, and after the other night with Reese, I would like to avoid any man with the last name Dane. How am I supposed to look Dev in the eye after giving his twin a hand job?

  At work, of all places.

  “How’s your drug situation?” I redirect the conversation, wanting to talk about anything besides my disastrous love life.

  “The same.” She shakes her head frustrated. “There was another OD last night. Fifteen years old.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “It’s needless. And doesn’t have to be happening.” She increases the speed of her machine until she’s jogging. Sam and I are one and the same when it comes to dealing with stress. There’s one bona fide way to relieve it. Run it out of you. She taught me that a long time ago when my life hit a monumental rough patch. When I thought I could never come back from the darkness, the black feelings, and the despair. I was a stone’s throw away from being put on medication, but Sam refused to let me become some strung-out, pill popping, anxiety freak. Her words. So every morning she woke me up at the crack of dawn to go running with her. Rain, shine, or snow. I cried for the first few weeks, but she wouldn’t give up on me. She was determined to make me stronger, and she did. Soon, running became my go-to every time those feelings threatened to bring me down. I still battle with anxiety and depression, but a good, long run in the fresh morning air always helps me fight through it. Conquer it. It’s my medicinal marijuana, so to speak.

  I hit stop on the treadmill and stretch my legs. I need to retain some energy for work.

  Work. Blah. I really don’t want to go. I don’t want to face Reese or Dev. Or be constantly reminded that I’m a complete hypocrite. Not only is Reese a patient, but he’s also a motorcycle racer. Talk about breaking moral code, both personal and professional. He’s the friggin’ alpha and omega of the bike world, and I rode right over the line with him. Actually, it was like the line wasn’t even fucking there. It was just him and me and electricity crackling through the air.

  I wipe the sweat from my brow and neck before I step off the machine.

  “I’ve got to get to work,” I inform Sam.

  “Have a great day,” she pants as she hits her stride, fully engaged in her run.

  I shower quickly and head in. I find myself applying extra lip gloss before my shift, and I have to stop and wonder if it’s for Reese, Dev, or myself. I’m turning into a damn ping-pong ball.

  I love them; I love them not.

  I love them; I love them not.

  I shove the pink tube in my pocket and resign just to concentrate on work and not the two undeniably sexy bikers who seem to have taken up permanent residence in my mind.

  Not like it would ever come down to it, but what if I was forced to choose? That question has been plaguing me. I can’t stop wondering if Dev kisses like Reese. Is he as aggressive and demanding? As well-endowed?

  “Morning.” Dev’s velvety timbre pulls me from my gyrating thoughts.

  “Morning.” I try to smile and totally not stare at his enticing mouth. Which I’m failing at miserably, by the way.

  “Been dodging me? I haven’t seen you for a few days.” He crowds me in the blind corner of the hallway.

  “No.” My focus darts between his eyes and mouth. Stop that! “Just been busy.”

  Dev sucks on his bottom lip seductively, and I nearly pass out. He’s fucking with me, and he knows it. Knows I’m crumbling.

  “Tonight.” He leans in close to my face. So close, I can feel his warm breath tickle my neck. “You are all mine. No arguments, no excuses. Just you and me in the dark.”

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I press my back against the wall and dig my nails into the plaster to keep from pouncing on him. I don’t know what the fuck’s come over me, but I want him. Badly. I want him as much as I want Reese, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.

  “Kayla, say yes,” Dev urges. His dark hair is styled back, and he has a hint of a five o’clock shadow. And the way he smells . . . So. Fucking. Good. Just like a man should smell. Don’t ask me to explain it. It’s like some kind of ambrosial aftershave or something.

  “Kayla?” He fucks my name with his voice.

  “Yes,” I force out, clenching my thighs. I want to slap my hand over my mouth, but it’s too late. I just sold my soul to the Dane brothers.

  The victory in Dev’s blue eyes is burning so bright, it could block out the sun.

  I’m so screwed. So goddamn screwed, and I don’t even care. I’m tired of resisting. Tired of getting off only in my dreams, while my conscious self is continuously deprived.

  “I’m going to make sure you scream that word twenty times over tonight.” He skims his nose up my neck until his lips are brushing against my ear. “I hope you’re ready,” he whispers almost tauntingly.

  I look up into his alight eyes. “I’m so fucking ready.”

  “Damn, baby.” He blows into my ear right before he pushes off the wall, checking the hallway as he adjusts himself. “Let’s go do some work before I say fuck it all and lock us up in the storage closet.”

  “I’m surprised you aren’t.”

  “Not with you. I have something special planned for you.” The wicked implication laced in his tone actually makes me shiver. I’ve heard things about Dev. Whispers about dominance and submission and kinky inclinations. It makes a woman curious. Dangerously curious.

  Dev takes my arm a
nd leads me away, releasing his grasp as we make it closer to the nurses’ station. I know they’re all talking. Gossiping about Dev and me. We’re always a hot topic, especially when we’re seen together. Funny thing is, there was nothing to gossip about up until five minutes ago.

  Now me and Reese? That’s a whole other story. One I have to figure out, fast.

  “Come with me?” He continues down the hallway toward Reese’s room. No delaying the inevitable.

  “Good news, bro,” Dev announces as we walk in. “You’re out of here. I’ve hired a nurse, and a bed is being set up as we speak.”

  Reese doesn’t look as happy as I thought he would be.

  “What nurse?”

  “From an agency. She seems nice.”

  “I want Kayla,” he declares. I think I turn white. Dev glances over at me with a questioning look, and all I can do is return the expression.

  Fuck.

  “Um, that’s not an option. Kayla already has a job.”

  Reese pins me with a hard stare. “I’ll pay you double whatever this craphole does. I want you.”

  Oh. My. God. This can’t be happening.

  “Reese . . .” I stumble over my words.

  “Triple.” He ups the ante.

  “Ahhh . . .” I’m frozen in place as I glance frantically back and forth between the two ruggedly, white trash beautiful men who are a carbon copy of each other.

  “I guess I can rework my schedule temporarily,” I inform them tentatively, before even considering the consequences.

  There goes my runaway mouth again. Fuck.

  Reese beams. “It’s settled then.”

  Dev protests. “Kayla, are you sure about this?”

  “I . . .” My eyes continue to dart between them, but I can’t say no. “I’m sure.”

  Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.

  Dev crosses his arms, and I find him hard to read. He’s silent for a few beats before he nods in agreement. When he looks at me, the heat that was so unbearably apparent in the hallway has returned full force.

  Oh shit. Holy shit. What did I just agree to?

  Two Dane men under one roof and my wavering self-control. That’s nothing but a recipe for disaster.