by Stella Brie
Thinking back, I realize she had only implied they were dating without actually stating they were. “Not in so many words. I felt she meant for me to take it that way, but she didn’t say you were dating. Must be a misunderstanding,” I think he can hear the doubt in my voice.
Reading between the lines, Lev takes my other hand in his and turns me so I’m facing him directly. “Just to be very clear. I’m not dating Courtney, and I have no interest in dating Courtney. She’s the manager of The Black and Gold, that’s it,” he states adamantly. “I am only interested in dating you, not anyone else. Just thinking of you makes my day a hundred times better. When I have nightmares about the Army, I bring up your smiling face on my phone, and it soothes me. Hell, half the time I run around smiling like a goofy bastard, and the other half of the time I’m hard as a rock thinking about the next time I can be with you.”
With tears in my eyes, I realize how much this man is starting to care for me. At some point soon, I need to tell him about my past and see if he still wants to be with me, but not yet.
“I’m still confused about how this will work with you and Lowell. And why it doesn’t matter to you if I date him?”
“It’s not that it doesn’t matter. Instead of being jealous, I want you both to be happy. Lowell and I share bonds that can’t be broken. Not only do we share a similar past, and a foster home, being in the same unit of a special operations force meant we often faced down death together. Once you put your life in another man’s hands, you must trust in him, completely. That he will be there at your back, no matter what. That kind of bond changes how you view him and the world. Things like jealousy take a back seat. When you are with him, you are with him. And vice versa with me. Just be yourself, be honest with us both, and let us worry about anything else,” he tells me.
Looking into his eyes, I see his utmost belief in their bond, and his conviction that things will be fine. Still conflicted, I give him my agreement.
“I’ll be completely honest with you, both of you. If things get serious between us, there are things about my past you should know, but I’m not ready to talk about them yet.”
“I’m already starting to get serious about you, Kate.” His eyes search mine for a response. “But I can wait for you to be ready before you share things.”
Biting the inside of my cheek, I think about it before agreeing. I’m still unsure of whether dating two men will work, but I’m willing to let us all figure it out. I’m very relieved to hear he’s not dating Courtney. Even though it’s not very fair of me, I don’t want him dating anyone else.
Lev and I stay outside, kissing under the stars, until the cold drives us in. He then takes me home and promises to text me tomorrow.
CHAPTER 13
KATE
After my talk with Lev, I feel almost giddy. Seriously, on the tips of my toes, dancing around, happy. Not just because I’m excited about going out with Lowell, but that I’m dating again, living again.
“OK, what is the deal with the perpetual smiling this week? Did you and Lev finally decide going slow is for old people?” Sarah laughs as she teases me.
Looking around, I lean closer and whisper, “I have a date with Lowell tonight.” Stepping back, I wait nervously for her response.
“WHAT?! Lowell?” she screams.
My nose wrinkles, and I grin.
“Does Lev know?”
I give her an incredulous look. “Of course! We talked about it, and he’s fine with me dating Lowell, too.”
“Damn, girl. I’m so glad you decided to just go for it,” she says as she shakes her head. “Although, I’m envious. Two successful, sexy men. Almost a harem. I had a harem once. Best damn summer of my life.”
“What are you talking about?” I eye the blissful look on her face. “Isn’t a harem like a sheikh with multiple wives type of thing? You know, like in those romance books?”
“Sort of, but the opposite. I’m talking about a reverse harem. One woman and multiple partners - usually male, but not necessarily - who are dedicated to just her. She dates or loves them all, but they only want her, unless there is a bit of male action.” She taps her chin as she thinks about that scenario for a second. “I guess the more acceptable term is a polyamorous relationship, but I just love how naughty the term ‘reverse harem’ sounds.” Sarah explains that it’s more common than most people know, especially around Lockeland Valley. Although men only slightly outnumber women in Montana, it always feels like there’s a shortage of women.
“Didn’t your guys get jealous? And I’m not even talking about sex yet. Wait, are we talking group sex, too??” As I wait for her to answer, I hyperventilate as I think about all the possibilities.
“Honestly, there can be jealousy. Mainly if one of my guys felt left out or I hadn’t seen one of them in a while. They would get into it with each other. I just let them deal with all their issues and figure it out.” She shrugs as she thinks back. “Regarding sex, it was a-MA-zing. Seriously. Because there is more than one, it’s like having a man who is always happy to see you and willing to put the time and effort into putting a smile on your face. And group sex? Oh hell, yes. Yummy.”
Stunned, I stand there for a second. Pictures flash through my mind of Lev and Lowell. Lev is sunshine and passion, and Lowell is icy and controlled. I can’t picture the two of them together in my bed, but I can picture myself in each of theirs.
“So, where are you guys going?” Sarah asks, interrupting my train of lustful thought. “Do you need help finding something to wear?”
“It’s a surprise. Lowell even sent me a dress to wear.” Sarah turns to me like WTH? “I know, right? It’s a gorgeous dress. Deep red, floor length, with slits to the thighs on both sides. Spaghetti straps, with a vee in the front, and almost no back. It’s very, very sexy.”
“Wow, I’ve never had a guy buy me a dress for a date. I’m not sure whether to be excited or worried for you.”
“And I worried he didn’t like me sexually,” I muse.
Sarah smirks. “He’s definitely made his interest known loud and clear now. Have fun tonight, and I can’t wait to hear about this surprise date on Monday.”
She grabs her things and leaves so I can lock up the practice. Going upstairs, I decide I have enough time to pull together a look sexy enough to match that dress.
TUCKING ONE LAST CURL behind my shoulder, I step back and survey the results. As I’m not sure where we’re going, I decided on a blown out, sexy hairstyle. I kept my makeup minimal and neutral, except for my painted, deep red pouty lips, designed to match the dress.
After putting on the dress, I stand in front of the long mirror. Thankfully, the dress fits snug on top, or else my breasts could pop out of the dress. Just in case, I add some double-sided tape to the insides to make sure it stays in place. Plumping up my breasts, I swish from left to right and back. The bottom half of the dress follows the movement, flowing around me. The slits, while high at the very top of my thighs, are cut so well, they don’t expose me even when moving. The whole dress fits like a dream. I’m almost concerned with how well this dress fits. Lowell must have been paying way more attention to my body than I originally thought.
Hearing the door, I slip my feet into strappy gold heels and grab my matching clutch. Smiling, I open the door to a very well-dressed Lowell wearing a black suit, white shirt, and black tie, with red lines that match my dress. Seeing how he looks in that suit, I’m suddenly very thankful he sent me this dress. The man is polished perfection.
“Thank you for the dress. It fits beautifully,” I twirl slowly around so he can see it from all angles. His eyes take in every detail, from my hair to my toes, lingering a second on my breasts and the slits at the top of my thighs.
Clearing his throat, he reaches for my hand, brings it to his lips, and gives me a soft kiss on the inside of my wrist. “You make the dress look beautiful,” he says huskily. “Are you ready to go?”
I dip my head and hand him my clutch to hold as I
grab my short black faux fur cape from the closet. Draping it over my shoulders, I take the clutch back and follow him out the door.
“So, where are we going tonight?”
“The Montana Club. For dinner.” He glances over at me. “And tango dancing.”
“What if I don’t know how to tango?” I tease, lightly questioning his decision.
“They give lessons the first half-hour, and then you dance the second half. And of course, I will be there to lead you.”
“Of course.” I laugh at his arrogance.
As Lowell drives us to Helena, he asks me about my talk with Lev. As I promised, I’m entirely transparent, giving him a rundown of my conversation with Lev, even telling him about the misunderstanding with Courtney and Lev dating. He is silent, listening intently, until I get to the part about Courtney. He then frowns and reiterates what Lev told me, which is a relief.
“It sounds like you’re confused or concerned?” he questions me.
“I’m trying to let you two work things out, but it worries me I might cause conflict between you.”
“Why don’t we test it out?” he suggests.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I know Lev has been wanting to invite you out to the ranch for a while. We all eat together Sunday evenings before we visit Thayer. Why don’t you come out around noon on Sunday? You can meet Shaw, spend time with both me and Lev, and see the ranch. It’s beautiful out there.”
Thinking about it for a second, I agree. I want to see where they live and how they all live together. “OK, I think that will help to see you both together. Plus, I’ve been dying to see this ranch. Even Sarah talks about the parties they had out there in high school.”
He raises my hand to his mouth and places a kiss on it. “Good, I want you to have no doubts about either of us.”
About 10 minutes later, we pull up at a swanky wood and stone lodge. Smoke is coming out of several chimneys, and the place is enormous. As we walk in, I look around in awe at the large fireplaces, massive timber beams in the ceiling, and dance floor that spans the back of the room. A band is playing something soft and sensual in the background as everyone eats dinner. Lowell gives the hostess our name, and after finding the reservation, we’re seated immediately.
Walking through the restaurant, I see beautiful and sexy women dressed similarly to me. Dresses with slits, high-low dresses, asymmetrical hems, and more. All designed to allow movement while they entice their partners. I’m so glad Lowell sent me the dress, as I had nothing that would have been appropriate for tonight.
The server comes to take our order pretty quickly. Knowing we’re going to dance later, I order a light meal of grilled fish and a salad. Lowell chooses the filet mignon and a salad. He also adds a bottle of red wine.
“Last time, we focused on me. I’d love to hear more about you,” Lowell murmurs. “Why did you become a doctor?”
“Well, I was a serious nerd growing up. I loved school, learning anything and everything, but I really gravitated towards the STEM subjects. My grandpa was a scientist, so we would spend a lot of time together talking about various sciences, the body, the latest research, illnesses, and cures. When I was about fifteen years old, he got sick. Colon cancer, and while he fought it for a long time, he could never beat it. Going through the diagnosis and treatments with him opened my eyes to the viciousness of this disease.” Stopping, I take a drink of water to ease the knot in my throat. Thinking about my grandpa always brings tears to my eyes, along with a tinge of guilt.
Swallowing, I continue. “When he died my senior year of high school, it really put this fire into me to go to school and become a doctor. My grades earned me a place in the Stanford Pre-Med program. I finished all the prerequisites in three years, went on to Stanford Medical University to get my M.D., and the rest is history.”
He reaches out and pulls my hand into his. Rubbing his thumb over the top of my hand to soothe me, he tilts his head as he thinks about what I said. “Cancer is a devastating disease, and I’m sorry to hear about your grandpa. It sounds like he was a wonderful man, and a tremendous influence in your life. I love the fact that he encouraged you to be a nerd, too.” Pausing, he muses, “I’m surprised you didn’t become an oncologist, though.”
Taking a second before answering, I look down at our hands. Not surprisingly, Lowell’s hands are large, but his fingers are long and tapered, almost elegant. I couldn’t help envisioning them stroking my body, stroking me, as if he was playing the piano or conducting a symphony. Knowing I had stalled enough, I tell him the truth.
“I did become an oncologist, but I haven’t practiced oncology for five years.” Lowell waits for me to explain, but I just shake my head. “It’s not really a suitable conversation for a first date. Can we continue this discussion another time?”
Reading my face, he comprehends that this is something too serious for such a beautiful night. He readily agrees. “I can wait until you’re ready to trust me with more information.”
Smiling, I squeeze his hand.
Our dinner arrives, and we keep the rest of the conversation light, discussing books, movies, art, and other topics. Culturally, Lowell and I have a lot in common. And none of these are topics I ever even discuss with Lev. It’s very clear that while they might be close, they’re unique in personality and interests. Amazingly, they both fit with different pieces of me.
The restaurant announces the tango lessons will start in fifteen minutes. Finishing our wine, I excuse myself to the restroom for a minute. After using the facilities, I wash my hands and reapply my red lipstick. As I’m standing there, a tall redhead comes up beside me.
“I believe I saw with you Lowell tonight, didn’t I?” She glances at me as she swipes gloss on her lips.
“Yes, I’m here with Lowell Monroe.” Wary, I turn to her. “Do you know Lowell?”
Laughing huskily, she stares at me with envy in her eyes. “Let’s just say Lowell and I are very well-acquainted. I’d give anything to be in your shoes tonight. The man knows everything about control and pleasure. And he’s a superb dancer.” She drops the gloss in her purse and strolls out the door.
My eyebrows rise in surprise. That was illuminating. As I walk to our table, I notice the redhead leaning over Lowell, whispering in his ear.
When I get closer, I hear Lowell coldly state, “Vivienne, we’re over. Please leave the table before my date comes back.”
Silently, I walk around and sit down. Raising one eyebrow, I command Lowell to take care of this situation quickly so it doesn’t ruin our first date. His mouth quirks at my audacity, but he quickly stands up, forcing Vivienne to take a step back. Without taking his eyes off me, he comes around the table and holds out his hand.
“Please excuse us, Vivienne. I’m about to dance with the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met.”
Laughing, I put my hand in his and let him lead me to the dance floor. Vivienne stares at us for a second, her mouth open, before she turns on her heels and stalks away.
“Smooth, Mr. Monroe. And I particularly like the part about being the most intriguing woman you have ever met.”
“I’m very sorry Vivienne interrupted our date, but I didn’t lie. You are the most intriguing woman I’ve ever met,” he says seriously. His right hand reaches around to my back, while he holds up his left hand for me to clasp.
My right hand clasps his left, while my other arm lies on top of his right arm. As I get into position, I hear the instructor call out the steps, and we walk through them. Silently, I snicker. I never told Lowell I could dance the tango, but in his arrogance, he assured me his ability to lead would be enough. Let’s see if that’s true.
Frowning in concentration, I attempt the eight basic steps but “accidentally” step on his toes several times. I then purposely step forward when I should step back, causing him to pivot sharply. Looking down at my feet, instead of up at him, I slide my thigh between his.
“I think I saw this part in a movie,” I
explain.
I’m breathless from holding in my laughter as I rub my leg up the inside of Lowell’s. Watching his face, I see him swallow hard, so I lean in a bit and kick up my heel before sliding my leg back towards my own body.
Lowell frowns as he realizes I can’t dance very well. Stopping, he instructs me to follow four of the eight beginner steps first. Looking down at my feet, I follow his cue, and we smoothly but slowly step to the same four steps.
“Look at me,” he murmurs as I continue to look down.
I don’t think I can look at him without laughing. His hand reaches out and takes my chin, pulling it up to look at him. Staring into his eyes, I can’t maintain the ruse and burst out laughing.
Understanding dawns, and he glares at me. In retaliation, he moves faster. As he realizes I can easily match the faster pace, he tries to lead me in the eight basic beginner steps. Challenging him in return, I lead him into new advanced steps. I lean away; he pulls me back. I lean back; he bends over me. Taking over the lead, he challenges me to follow as he pivots and forces me to cross on the outside. I kick up my heel and pivot. He pushes me away in a twirl, then pulls me back tight.
Pivoting in the opposite direction, I realize while this has been fun, I really want him to lead. Slowing, I wait for him to direct our next move. Looking up into his eyes, I convey my willingness to let him lead us in this dance. Seeing my submission, he smiles darkly.
It releases something wild in him. Our moves become more precise and intricate, but controlled and lightning fast. He is dominant in his lead. With just the slightest pressure, he moves me in the direction he wants me. His leg slides between mine, then he pivots. He forces my body to the outside, to the inside, twirling and stepping and pushing, me to my limit. Our bodies align, we pull apart. Where we touch, fires erupt.
My heart pounds. Sensuality coats every step until suddenly the music peaks. He steps so my dress slides to the side, baring my leg in its entirety to his gaze. His hand reaches down and taps my thigh, indicating I should raise it. Once it comes off the ground, his hand glides down to my ankle, and circling it with his fingers, he pulls it around his hips. He leans back, pulling me forward, forcing me to rely solely on him to hold me up. The lines of his body are taut as they hold us in position. The music ends.