Edwards, Willa - Midnight Mirage (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour)

by Willa Edwards

  Mallory paused for a moment, unsure how much she wanted to say. How much could Krista accept of her New Year’s Eve activities? It was hard for Mallory to even remember how she’d ended up in such a position, but from the first touch, it had been so damn good, she’d never considered fighting it.

  “Yeah, kinda,” Mallory responded, concluding evasive truth the best way to go. If she lied, Krista would know and drag the details out of her. She wasn’t sure she was ready to admit the truth to herself, let alone her best friend.

  “He’s a musician, isn’t he?” Krista grabbed the pillar jar of sugar and poured a liberal amount into her coffee, stirring vigorously to dissolve the thick grains.

  Mallory nodded. Even if her men had never been on a stage, they were musicians. They’d definitely played her like a sax.

  “He has to be talented, or you wouldn’t give him the time of day. And gorgeous, I’m sure of that. Definitely sweet and loyal. Probably foreign, with dark eyes and light hair.”

  Mallory listened as Krista listed all the qualities of her dream man, the same ones written on her holiday wish list, and let out a sigh. What did it matter if Lincoln and Gabe had all the qualities on her stupid list? There wasn’t any future between them. There couldn’t be.

  “When are you going to see him again?”

  Mallory picked her head up. She’d almost blocked out Krista’s ramblings, but her question jolted her back into reality faster than her steaming black coffee. Across the table Krista sipped from her mug, her hazel eyes alight with curious interest. Like most women in a long-term relationship, she relished hearing her single girlfriend’s adventures finding the love she already had.

  “I don’t know. I don’t—”

  Krista slammed her mug to the tabletop with a clatter, halting Mallory’s words. The coffee splashed over the sides, onto the vinyl, dripping onto her laminated menu, but Krista paid no attention to the mess. “You’re not going to see him again?”

  Mallory dropped her eyes, sure her friend could read the sign in her gaze as much as the gesture. “I didn’t say that,” Mallory defended, though she’d thought it.

  It had been the most gratifying night she’d ever had. Maybe they could have made a weekend of hot, steamy sex, but regardless of how great they were together, it could never last. Why not just cut it off now and save them all the trouble?

  “Mal, aren’t you through with this yet?”

  Through with what? Falling for unattainable men? Having affairs with rock-and-roll gods? Ringing in the New Year with multiple orgasms?

  “I know it’s been hard for you since your mom died, but she wouldn’t want you to live your life alone. Never opening up to anyone.”

  Mallory took a deep breath, Krista’s words hitting her like a punch to the stomach. She couldn’t breathe—her chest felt too tight. “My mother has nothing to do with this, Kris.”

  Krista reached across the table, pushing aside her coffee to clasp Mallory’s hand with a reassuring grasp.

  “It’s not that I don’t understand, Mal. I do. Your mother’s loss was devastating, but you can’t keep pulling away from anyone who gets close to you. You have to let someone in.”

  Mallory pulled back her hand, wrenching it from Krista’s iron sympathy. “This wasn’t the time, believe me.”

  “How do you know, Mal? Did he ask you to leave? Did he tell you he never wanted to see you again?”

  Lincoln and Gabe had never said anything like that, but they hadn’t said anything about her staying past sunrise, either. They must have assumed she knew it was only for one night. That’s the only way it could be. They couldn’t share her indefinitely. That’s not how relationships worked. And she wouldn’t choose between them.

  “You didn’t even give him a chance,” Krista responded, taking Mallory’s expression as confirmation.

  “At least I don’t give too many chances,” Mallory sneered under her breath. Looking up, she met the pain and anger in Krista’s eyes and realized she hadn’t said it low enough.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Krista spit out through her tightly clenched jaw.

  “That’s great advice, Kris. Are you planning on taking it yourself?” Mallory’s snide tone echoed through the almost-empty diner. It was five thirty in the morning on New Year’s Day. Everyone else was asleep, exactly where she should be so she wasn’t spouting hurtful words she couldn’t take back because of her own throbbing wounds. But she couldn’t stop herself either, her misery loving the possibility of company.

  “Ever planning on telling James you want more, or how unhappy you’ve been?”

  Krista turned in her seat, planting her feet on the ground and grabbing her bubblegum leather purse. “You’re right. Maybe I should go do that right now.”

  Krista shifted on her bench, sliding down the remaining distance to the edge, her bright pink sneakers flashing beyond the table ledge. Mallory reached out, grabbing her arm and pinning it to the laminate countertop.

  “I’m sorry,” Mallory whispered, her voice shaky with emotion. Her heart thudded in her chest, capable of cracking into a thousand pieces like a dropped champagne flute with just the right push. “I didn’t mean it. It’s just that you—”

  “Mentioned your mom,” Krista finished, sympathy returning to her voice. She swung back into the bench, gripping Mallory’s arm within her own, somehow understanding she needed the continued supportive contact.

  Mallory nodded. Her mind slipped back to that November over a year ago when she’d buried her mother. The smell of that fall day surrounded her in the January diner. Her scratchy, raw throat a diminished version of what she’d felt that night, from crying for far too long.

  Hardly aware of it, Mallory gripped her upper arm through the leather of her jacket, covering the sentimental tattoo she’d gotten to remember her mother after the funeral. The following month she’d quit her job, setting out on a new career.

  “Maybe you’re right, Mal. Maybe this guy isn’t the one. Maybe he’s not the guy to let into your heart.”

  Mallory took a deep breath. Why did Krista’s words, the ones she’d thought herself, feel so devastating? Her stomach lurched at the idea of being with someone other than Lincoln and Gabe. A cold sweat trickled down her neck as she considered being with someone else, even if they could offer her more than amazing sex, more than a threesome that was guaranteed to end and crush her heart in the process.

  “But you need to find someone you want to let in. Someone you can open up to, someone you’re willing to let love you. You deserve that much.”

  “You’re starting to sound like Giselle.” Mallory chuckled, a smile playing upon her friend’s pink painted lips.

  “Maybe Giselle’s right every once in a while.” Krista laughed with her.

  Mallory might mock her uptight friend, she might cringe at some of the conservative notions Giselle spouted, but she was certainly right about a few things. Starting with those stupid lists.

  Chapter Eight

  Mallory pulled into the parking area, dialing up the volume on the radio. She danced in her seat, slamming her decade-old Golf into park as the engine groaned in return. She hadn’t heard the song on the stereo before, but it was good. She’d have to figure out who sang it. Maybe she could convince her editor to do a feature on them for the next issue.

  Beneath the pound of the bass, Mallory heard a vibration rattling against her tape recorder and keys. Digging through her purse, she pulled out her cell, where it was singing out the newest Mirage single. She peered at the LCD screen on the front before flipping open the phone and pressing it to her ear.

  “I told you I’d get here just fine, Kris. There’s no reason to be worried.”

  “Who’s Kris?” A rough, dark voice rumbled in her ear. Mallory turned, staring out the rolled-down window, making contact with Lincoln’s dark gaze. Even the cool January air keeping her awake through her trek couldn’t damper the missile of his gaze.

  “I just got here. I’ll give
you a call when I know what’s going on,” Mallory mumbled into the phone before slamming the lid shut. That wouldn’t be enough for Krista, not for long, especially if she’d heard Lincoln’s voice in the phone, but it would buy Mallory a little time.

  Mallory opened the door and eased out of the car to the paved ground, never taking her eyes off Lincoln. She slammed the car door behind her, the entire vehicle shaking from the force.

  Behind Lincoln the bus door opened, and Gabe stepped down the stairs. His guitar slung over his shoulder. His golden eyes, which had turned dull and stormy since she’d last seen him, glowed brighter as he looked over to her. A smile turned up the corners of his mouth. At least there was some hope.

  “Who’s Kris?” Lincoln repeated. “Is he who you left us for?”

  “Krista is my best friend. And I did go and have coffee with her, if that’s all right with you?” Mallory made no effort to disguise the bite in her words. Regardless of how vulnerable she felt, how painful it would be if they sent her away forever, never to feel the heat and comfort of two warm male bodies surrounding her again, she wouldn’t let them treat her like property. They didn’t own her. She could go anywhere and see anyone she wanted to.

  “Calm down, Linc,” Gabe, the voice of reason, called from behind him. He advanced toward where Lincoln and Mallory stood on the concrete, staring each other down. For a moment the two men shared a terse stare, the tension emanating from their interaction and a newfound worry coiled in Mallory stomach. Had her leaving had some kind of effect on their relationship? Was she the new Yoko?

  Gabe came to stand before her, placing himself an inch closer to her than Lincoln. “He gets like this when people run out on us without even a good-bye.”

  Her shoulders slumped, guilt flooding her system as the two sets of eyes, one dark and challenging, one warm and sweet, stared her down.

  Mallory opened her mouth, unsure what to say. She wanted to tell them the truth, to open her heart to them as Kris had suggested, but the words clumped into a hard ball in her throat.

  “Can I come in?” She motioned toward the bus as their twin stares pinned her to the asphalt.

  “Can she, Lincoln?” There was no mistaking the hostility in Gabe’s voice and Mallory stomach twisted tighter.

  “Of course,” Lincoln responded, his words croaked, filled with strain.

  Gabe marched the remaining foot between them, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and ushering her toward the scene of their life-changing night together.

  Just like the last time she’d entered this bus, Lincoln trailed behind her, his sight a brand upon her body. As they approached the entrance, a warm hand trailed down her back, cupped her ass, and hoisted her into the bus on suddenly wobbly feet.

  Her two men pounded up the stairs behind her. At least she hoped they’d be her men.

  Her heart pounded, filling her ears with its irregular beat at the sensation of Lincoln and Gabe’s fingers on her body. Their slight caress was conquering, revived images of last night strong and hot in her mind.

  Neither Lincoln nor Gabe had made any amorous suggestions, their voices filled with more anger and hurt than desire. But her body didn’t seem to understand the difference. Heat coiled her blood, wetness dripping between her legs.

  Once inside the bus, the hand dropped from her body, the sudden lack of sensation chilling her. A shiver raced down her spine as she turned to them. Anger flamed in both their eyes, their jaws set. Her chest dropped, regardless of the lust this location and these men created within her. This wouldn’t be easy. There was too much pain between them. But that wouldn’t deter her. This time she wasn’t going anywhere until they asked her to.

  “Why did you leave?” Gabe asked, jumping to the point before Lincoln had even made it all the way up the stairs behind them. He slid the guitar off his back, leaning it against the opposite wall as his gaze pinned her down.

  Mallory’s stomach twisted as she looked up at the two sets of eyes staring her down, undressing her emotionally and physically.

  “I…” She stammered. How was she supposed to tell them she’d wanted to stay but had been too scared to? That she’d feared they weren’t interested in any more of her than one night of scorching-hot sex?

  Lincoln stepped forward until his body was almost pressed up against hers. He tilted his head and pushed close enough his nose brushed her hair, his breath a warm breeze on her ear that made her shudder. “We weren’t through with you yet.”

  Mallory took a deep breath, her head swimming. She wanted to explain, but was unsure what to say. They hadn’t made any mention of wanting any more of her, anything beyond one night, but even in her mind, the notion hit a false note.

  She hadn’t run because she thought they were through with her. She’d left because they weren’t. It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone who was interested in more than a night with her.

  She tried to step away, but Lincoln’s hard body stopped her process, trapping her effectively beneath his iron gaze. Across the bus Gabe’s eyes met Lincoln’s, and he dipped his head slightly to the side, giving Lincoln some signal Mallory didn’t understand. He crossed his arms over his chest like a bouncer at a nightclub, blocking her path. Not allowing her entrance without the cover. The price of the truth was steep, but fair.

  “New Year’s was over.” Mallory shook her head, her long ebony, emerald, and violet hair slapping against her. She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her dark jeans, looking down. “I thought we were, too.”

  “Did we say anything to make you think that?” Concern filled Gabe’s words, the resigned withdrawal evaporating his expression.

  “You didn’t say anything otherwise,” Mallory lashed out, feeling their concern cut too close.

  Neither Lincoln nor Gabe said a word, instead sitting down on the lumpy charcoal bus couch before her, patiently waiting for her to continue. They were the picture of contradiction, one dark with piercing midnight eyes, one light and blond, one rough and dominant, one caring and funny, yet exactly what she needed. They were exactly what she’d always wanted. What she’d asked for on her dream list, without realizing she could ever receive her heart’s desire.

  Yet unlike all the others, if she opened herself to these men and they left, the damage would be more severe, leaving an injury so deep it might never heal.

  Mallory took a deep breath, forcing herself to a calm she didn’t really feel. She needed to know their intentions before she opened herself completely to them, before she gave them the power to wound her so deeply. “Even if you had asked me to stay, how long do you think we could continue this?”

  Mallory sniffled, her throat suddenly clogging with emotion, fighting as best she could the futile battle against her oncoming tears. If this was what opening herself up to someone meant, she understood why she’d avoided it for so long. “This would have to end eventually. And then what? I’m sick of being left. I’m sick of people leaving.”

  Mallory pushed the words out through her emotion-raw throat. The sentiment stabbed at her heart like a deep, penetrating wound to her very core. Yet she couldn’t hold back anymore. That was her real New Year’s resolution, and this year she was determined to complete it.

  “We don’t want you to leave,” Lincoln’s whiskey voice whispered from the couch. Beside him Gabe nodded. “We don’t want to leave you, either.”

  “I can’t choose.” With each new truth, the words flowed easier.

  She couldn’t imagine which of these men to pick, which one she couldn’t live without, which one she could accept never to be so close to again. How could she give up Lincoln’s dominance or Gabe’s compassion? How could she go without Lincoln’s rough, pleasant touch or Gabe’s humor at the most inappropriate time? Which man would she see every day, talk to, joke with, and at the end of the day, let him go off to find other women?

  “I won’t,” she declared, realizing the truth. She could never pick just one. She needed them both.

  “
We wouldn’t ask you to do that, love.” Gabe’s warm eyes looked up at her, understanding.

  “What are you asking, then?” Mallory fisted her hands at her hips, curling her fingers around the edge of her pockets to keep from reaching for them. All she wanted was to pull her men off the couch and wrap her body around them. To feel their arms around her again, their lips kissing her, tongues licking her.

  “We want to be with you. Both of us.”

  Mallory tossed her hair out of her eyes, using the small movement to calm her rising heart rate, the hope brimming in her chest. They didn’t want to leave her. They wanted her. Both of them.

  “We want you to stay with us. Indefinitely.” Lincoln’s words were firm and resolved.

  “Whatever that involves,” Gabe reassured from his other side.

  “You can’t possibly mean that? You can’t want to keep doing this?” Mallory’s eyes focused down to the floor, where they’d stripped her naked last night. Her body vibrated with memories of Lincoln bending her over and pounded into her from behind, of Gabe licking her to nirvana. Her mouth dried up as she remembered sucking them both last night until her checks ached, drinking down their cum, and demanding more.

  She wanted to be with both of them. It was the reason she’d come back, but it was still hard for her to believe they could want her forever.

  “Why not?” Lincoln stated matter-of-factly, as if there were happy, committed threesomes on every corner, and last night was an average Tuesday for most people.

  “What if someone found out?” Mallory continued, jumping ahead of the personal arguments streaming through her head to the insurmountable obstacle. “What would your fans think…if they found out…about us?” She looked up at them, Lincoln’s eyes intense, his full lips parted on a deep breath.

  “We’re rock stars,” Gabe’s honeyed tone answered, as if their profession answered everything, surprising her with the joy in his words. “People would be amazed if we weren’t indulging in some kind of unorthodox sex practices.”