“Two bowls, you say?”
H jerks and looks at me like I might be a mermaid, like I’m the most unusual sight he’s ever seen, although he just glanced at me two seconds ago. His gaze is so different and so odd I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Yeah,” his voice cracks. A lot.
“I could share.”
He swallows.
“You guys hungry?”
Jay scrubs a hand over his whiskered cheek. He might have moaned too, because suddenly my body’s on fire. My nipples are contracting, my thighs feel tingly, and the apex of my legs is liquid heat.
Jay takes a huge breath. “We gotta talk about it.”
“No, we don’t.” H shakes his head, but then he looks like he might eat my neck. He looks predatory and slightly crazed. God, I love that look. His gaze flicks away and a slight pink edges his neck.
“Talk about what?” I ask, not sure if I should ask. Because I’m pretty sure there’s an elephant in the room. We all know it’s there. We all see it.
Sex.
That’s the huge elephant sharing our space, making our breathing accelerated, making my heart beat loudly, making me wonder if I might just cup my own breasts because they feel so full and needy.
H continues to shake his head. “We—we don’t need to talk about anything.” He frowns at Jay. “Dee has the bed and that’s all there is to that.” He rubs his palm up the back of his head, his shiny black hair following the movement, catching the light.
“But I’d feel bad if you guys slept on the floor.” Oh god, I’m playing with fire, aren’t I? I shouldn’t say such things even if I do think them. I mean, they can’t be in bed with me. But I really, really want them in my bed.
“Eat your stew,” H says sternly.
We all turn to him. He’s wiping his face, wincing.
“Okay, Dad.” I give him my best angsty teenage impression.
“Sorry.” H smiles.
Then we finally laugh, breaking through the tension. Thank god for it, so we quit staring at the bed, paralyzed.
We call the front desk and order more stew and sweet wheat buns with sharp cheese baked in the crust. Soon, we eat and laugh and watch TV on that one bed. I’m in the middle, Jay to my left, H to my right. We’ve been feeding each other and talking, but before too long I’m exhausted and my baby takes over, making it hard to keep my lids open.
It’s the perfect antidote for sexual tension—my pregnancy. Well, it should be. I wish it would work better, actually.
“I’ll change in the bathroom,” Jay says, grabbing his empty Styrofoam containers, “get ready for the night.”
“I’ll change after you,” H looks at me, “unless, Dee, you’d like first dibs on the bathroom?”
I shake my head while my lids droop. “No, you guys go first. I just need to sit for a second.”
I hear the rustle of garbage being dumped in the rubbish bin, then a click of a door closing. My head lists toward H and bonks onto his shoulder.
He’s there, catching me, gently caressing my hair from my face. “You tired, sweetheart?”
I nod. “I wasn’t just a second ago, but Baby is exhausted, apparently.”
“How is Baby?”
God, I’m glad my eyes are closed; otherwise, I might cry. I love that H is calling my child Baby. How adorable is that? And somehow sexy too.
“I think Baby’s good. Just tired.”
“Can you feel Baby move?”
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
“But you can tell you’re pregnant?”
I nod. “Yeah, god, I feel so weird compared to when I’m not pregnant. I feel like I’m in a haze, my brain isn’t very clear sometimes, my hormones are crazy—”
“You said you cry a lot?”
I finally do have the strength to look up at him. “Yes, if you get to know me after I have Baby, you’ll find out I don’t cry nearly as much as I do now.”
His brows furrow. “Who said I’m going anywhere?”
Jay opens the bathroom door. “Next.”
H cradles my cheek, while he glances at Jay. “You gotta take my place. Dee needs a shoulder to lean on while she’s so sleepy.”
I can tell by the way Jay’s looking at H that something significant is happening. While I’m trying to riddle it out, Jay sweeps in, and I’m easily swayed to his body, his shoulder.
I watch H grab some PJs from his backpack then make his way into the bathroom, and when the door shuts, I look up at Jay.
“Did something happen?”
Jay shrugs. “I think it did.”
“What happened?”
He hugs me and kisses the top of my head. “H is right, we’ll talk about it later.”
But I don’t want to talk about it later. I want to talk about it now. Damn it.
However, my baby could care less, and somehow I drift off to sleep in my blue jeans and sweater. I think two good, wonderful men help me get more comfortable in bed, talking about calling their moms, giving them the latest update as to where they are. But suddenly they’re whispering, and, oh, how I wish I could stay awake to listen. Or eavesdrop. Semantics.
* * *
Gotta pee.
That’s my only thought first thing upon waking. So it takes a second to realize that my cheek isn’t on a pillow. It’s on something hard. And warm. And has a heartbeat.
Opening my lids, I fight to see who I’m laying on. The hotel’s drapes are closed and there’s very little light. But slowly my eyes adjust. I’m on Jay. I’m still dressed in yesterday’s clothes. And someone’s hand is on my butt. From this angle I know it’s not Jay palming me. Very carefully, I adjust my head to look over my shoulder. There’s H, sleeping on his side, so close to me that I feel his body’s warmth. They kept me warm all night, these two men. They’re under the covers, snuggled close. They didn’t sleep on the floor like I thought they would.
They slept with me.
I grin.
It’s one of those huge, I-can’t-fucking-help-it smiles.
Oh, but I have to use the bathroom.
I really don’t want to disturb them, so it takes a few circus moves for me to remove myself and crawl to the foot of the bed, then launch into the bathroom. After I’ve done what I had to, I catch a glance of myself in the mirror as I’m washing my face. It’s one of those thoughtless glances, where I’m not paying attention to anything in particular, but mainly just giddily thinking about how I slept with two men last night.
Then I stop and notice my reflection.
I turned on the fluorescent light, and usually that much brightness is disturbing, especially when viewing myself. But there’s a girl, a woman really, in the mirror and she’s pretty. I swallow as I look at her. Instead of focusing on the size of my thighs, the size of my breasts, my freckles, I take in all of me, and maybe I see things from H or Jay’s perspective, because I like what I see. I’m not nearly as bull-in-the-china-store as I think I am. I’m always thinking I’m huge, when I’m not sure I am. I have little shoulders. Dainty almost, which makes me nearly laugh.
Jay’s right, I have hair so dark and glossy it gives out a halo effect with the light. Right now it’s slightly messy from sleeping with two men. And my eyes—how I’ve always hated my muddy eyes. But I see the green in them. Gold at the center.
After years of struggling with the way I look, I see myself as…me. I can’t be my mother. I’m just me. I have dark hair and greenish eyes and freckles. But I even like my freckles. They’re golden, like the center of my eyes.
I can’t believe it, but I like me. I like me when I wake up between two men.
Feeling like a goddess, which feels odd but sexy, I strut back into the bedroom. My guys are asleep, softly snoring. Clutching over my heart for a few seconds, I stare at them. The space between them is perfect for me.
I’m not sure about the future, and since I’m carrying a baby, I sure as hell want to nail that down. But no one can, can they? Or am I being too wishy-washy about my f
uture? Maybe the women with those huge diamond rings on their third left fingers do know how to nail down future details. But I don’t.
I crawl back into bed, a little deflated thanks to thinking about my future. I’m trying to be very careful, but I know I’m wiggling the mattress. Both H and Jay’s breathing patterns change. I’m not sure if I’ve woken them until, while sliding under the covers, a huge hand wraps around my hip and pulls me to spoon against H. His soft beard brushes against my ear, and my nipples bead, a happy glow spreads from my belly down to my sex.
“Good morning,” he whispers.
“Go back to sleep.” I wrap my hand around his, but he just holds me closer, enveloping my body with his.
He’s hard, and I can’t help but want to rock and roll against it. I want to adjust my hips so his cock is against my jean-clad sex. I want that so much I can hardly think straight.
Then a hand finds my arm and caresses up to my shoulder, next my cheek.
I blink, my vision slightly hazy from the pure lust pouring through my body. That and it is dark. But I see Jay. He’s smiling, caressing my face.
“Good morning.” His voice is rough and so deep I nearly moan at the sound of it.
“No, no.” I reach out and hold his impossibly-firm shoulder. “You have to go back to sleep too. I didn’t mean to wake—”
“You…” Jay’s voice is so deep now. And there’s something about it that triggers my clit. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He takes a firmer hold of my cheek and pulls me close for a kiss. His lips just meet mine, but it’s me that’s overly eager, pushing my tongue against the seam of his mouth. He opens and moans as soon as I swish my tongue against his.
He pushes me back to say, “Did you brush your teeth? You taste so good.”
I giggle, but my face is being turned by H.
“I want to try.”
And H is kissing me. Just a second after Jay did, he’s pressing his lips against mine. I know I shouldn’t be so shocked by this. I mean, it’s not the first time they’ve both kissed me. But I’m still surprised. Happily surprised.
He presses his tongue against my lips and I open for him. But I do more than that. I turn my body, adjusting against him so I’m more on my back. Which means he’s almost on top of me. Well, his steel-like chest is angled over me, pressing against one breast that’s begging for more of an impact.
Why is it that I love men on top of me? Well, I like being on top too. Either way is great, really. I almost can’t breathe from the anticipation. I can’t wait until he’s between my legs.
But he stops kissing me, pulling away, yet rocking his even harder cock against my hip. Then Jay is kissing me again. His chest is on my other breast, his arms holding his body aloft so I don’t have all his weight on me. Oh, but I want his weight.
H clutches at my hips all the more, and I’m realizing the position I’m in is slightly awkward. My lower half is twisted, on one hip, my upper half is flat on the mattress. But I love the feel of H and now Jay slightly on me. I love the feel of them against me. And I love kissing them.
Jay’s breathing is quickening. His hand slides to my waist. But then he straightens away. I can’t catch my own breath as H is immediately there, his lips against mine, escalating the kiss as his tongue sweeps in. But just as fast, he pulls away. He does this over and over again—his body mimicking the motion of love making. I moan and clutch at his shoulders, wanting…oh, wanting so much. H is teasing me, persisting with the sex-like motions, his chest rubbing against my puckering nipple. Then Jay’s hand slides down to my hip, adjusting me so my whole body lays flat. His hand caresses my curves over my jeans, and the way he’s touching me, so languidly, so gently, makes me think he might love the indention of my waist and the flare of my hips.
Suddenly Jay is kissing me, easily catching up to the rhythm H and I started. His hand finds my belly, swooping here, caressing there. H’s hand is on my thigh, slowly finding the inside and traveling up.
That’s when I finally pull away, sucking in air, and wondering just what the hell I’m doing.
It’s H, of course, who looks at me concerned. “Too fast?”
“What are we doing?” I whisper, a tad panicked.
Jay shrugs. “Did it feel good?”
I roll my eyes and sit up, pulling away from them to the very top of the bed, where the three pillows are lined up. Tucking my legs close, I wrap my arms around my shins. “Of course it felt good. But what are we doing?”
H sits up, scooting a little closer. “I’m not sure. I just had to kiss you.”
“Me too.” Jay smiles at H. Something is communicated between them. And I want to find out what that something is.
I point at H. “You don’t think you can have sex with me and another man.”
He tilts his head to the side. Either my eyes are adjusting to the dimness or the slight crack of light through the curtains is brightening. I wonder how much it snowed last night, but before I can find out, H says slowly, “How do you know what I think?”
God, I’m going to have to admit I eavesdropped. How humiliating. But there’s a part of me that’s glad I’ve been caught, because I don’t think the guys have any clue what they’re doing. They’re kissing me. And they’re perfect men. I mean in every sense of perfect they are—great bodies, they probably both have six-pack abs, amazing shoulders, and arms that I’ve had multiple fantasies about holding onto while having sex. And they are smart, funny, sweet, kind, gentlemanlike, which I’m not sure I’ve ever been around, and so fucking perfect.
Which makes me question myself all over again, all the confidence from before waning.
Oh, and remember, there are two of these perfect men against me. Two against one. Which is never fair.
“I overheard you two talking outside the door.” I admit. “I heard the two of you talking about not wanting to have sex with me.”
H shakes his head, raking a hand through his wild black hair. “I don’t know who you think you overheard, but that wasn’t me. I want to have sex with you.”
“Me too,” Jay’s voice is still so low it makes me want to…oh god, these men are such sexual kryptonite for me. Just as I think I’m making a stand, one of them says something or just grunts and my stupid body wants to lay down and strip off my clothes to have one of them on top of me.
“But I want to wait until you—until you’re ready. I’ll wait.” H takes a big breath.
I swallow.
“Me too.” Jay smiles at H.
I shake my head. “No, you said you didn’t know if you could have sex with a woman and another man. At the same time.”
“Is that what you want?” Jay asks, shuffling closer to me. “You want us both? At the same time?”
21
I growl and get off the bed, somehow not touching one of them. But god, do I want to.
“You don’t understand.”
“Enlighten me.” H stands too, crossing his arms as he looks at me.
I glance at H then Jay, who’s also staring at me, seeming to be very interested in what I’m about to say. But my mind is in a serious fog and there’s only one thing I can think about.
I point my finger in the air. “Okay, how’s this for you two? I’m pregnant.”
“We know.” Jay nods. "We've talked about this before."
“Yeah.”
“But doesn't it bother you?” I cross my arms over my chest.
H shrugs. “I think it might if the father were in the picture. I mean, I’d want to know if he still wants you, then I’d beat the shit out of him.”
I roll my eyes at his Neanderthal answer. “No, you wouldn’t.”
“All right. I wouldn’t. But I’d want to.”
“Why?”
“Because,” Jay says, then clears his throat. “You’re not his.”
“Yeah.” H uncrosses his arms and leans forward, his finger on my chin. “You’re ours.”
I back up, running into the teeny kitchen applian
ces. “What does that mean?”
Neither of the men answers and I’m about to throw my hands up to the ceiling when H sighs. He shakes his head. “Jay’s my best friend, and I haven’t had a best friend since I was in high school.”
“You’re my best friend too, dude.”
H smiles with one side of his mouth. “I don’t think either of us knew we had the exact same taste in women. But we do.”
Jay shrugs. “Yeah, we both just fell.”
I shake my head. “You can’t. I’m not—you can’t.”
“Look, Dee.” H steps closer again. “Jay’s my best friend, but there’s things I’ve never told him that somehow, once meeting you, I’m suddenly talking about. I never thought I’d tell a soul about that dog I had shot. How I can’t get a fucking job because that’s all I think about when I’m being interviewed. And, the real hard part to wrap my head around is I don’t know if I want a job in California, or any kind of engineering job where I work in an office. I’m—shit, see, you somehow get me to talk, open up.”
He glances at Jay, waving a hand at his friend. “And before we met you, Jay hardly said a word for more than two fucking months. I love that man, but try living with someone who won’t talk. At all.”
Jay looks down. “Sorry, man. I—”
“No, I understand.” H looks at me. “This is what I think. Dee, you are what was missing. We both need you. We’re best friends who don’t talk without you. But with you—I can only speak for myself, but Dee, you—I thought I was dead. Inside. I couldn’t feel anything normal. I either felt too much at the worst of times, like when being interviewed for a prospective job, or nothing at all. What civilians say about military guys coming back is that we’re different. But that’s not true. We’re not even the same men, but we sure try to be, which makes, at least me, feel all the more fucked up for it.”
Fly (Wild Love Book 2) Page 17