by Gemma Snow
Her nipple plumped between her fingers and she brushed across the straining bud, imagining what it might feel like to have Dec’s mouth on her, or Micah’s hard body, the one she had felt the night before when she had fallen into his lap, pressed against her back. Christ on…a something, she couldn’t even fantasize about one man at a time.
So, she slid her fingers deep inside her body, swirling her thumb in circles over her swollen clit as she gave over to the fantasy of Micah burying his cock deep inside her, of Dec pressing his full lips to hers. Then, oh, God, it was too much, way too much and she peaked too fast and too hard and too high, biting down on her lips to keep from crying out as wave after wave of pleasure shocked her body, arched her back and had her breathing coming in hard pants.
Suddenly, the water in the shower was too warm and she cranked it to a degree just above ice, trying to cool her heated skin and overheating mind. Okay, so she wanted them. Both of them. Deep in the throes of passion, she could no longer ignore the truth of that. But she certainly didn’t need to act on it. These men, the first she had thought of as men, as potential lovers, in so many years, could remain a delicious fantasy, a way to keep herself occupied on lonely nights. Of course, that didn’t mean she had to give in to her desires. She was a grown woman, for goodness’ sake. She could more than control herself around them.
Right. Right?
* * * *
“Hermione?” Lily said, looking down at the pup, who watched her patiently from just the other side of the kitchen gate, still visible from where they sat eating dinner.
“You’re not naming the dog Hermione,” Dec said, handing her a plate of roasted vegetables. “Or Harry or…I don’t know…wasn’t there a Robbie or something in those books?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Ron,” she corrected, narrowing her eyes. “Are you telling me you’ve never read Harry Potter? You’re shitting me, really?”
“Really,” Dec replied. “I’m not…the reading type.” He said it with bravado, but Lily couldn’t ignore the hint of something below those sparkling eyes and her mind flitted back to all the nights her mom and dad had read Madison and her to sleep far too late.
“You could be,” she said. “Being a reading type is just about figuring out what you like to read.” She turned to Micah. “What were you reading this morning?” He’d been silent for the last few minutes, but she found that he was always watching, always listening, never far away as he looked like he might be. The man was perceptive as hell.
He blinked, taken by surprise. “Non-fiction,” he said. “Historical.” He coughed, clearly uncomfortable, but came clean, anyway. “The History of the Battle of Belly River.” He shrugged.
She raised a brow. Stupidly, she had assumed that leaving his reservation had included some…she didn’t know, lack of connection or some such to the world behind. Of course, that didn’t make any sense and now that she thought on it, Lily felt a little ashamed. She turned back to Dec. “See? We read what interests us. So, what do you like?”
“What do I like?” He sounded a little incredulous and she didn’t like the idea that maybe he wasn’t asked that question enough. She nodded. “Well, cooking, but I’m not about to start settling down in the hammock with a cookbook.”
“Fair.” She indicated the food on the table. “Dinner is amazing, by the way.” He only preened a little. “What else? Travel? History? Adventure? There must be something that tickles your fancy.”
And there was that freaking grin. It wasn’t so much the smile on his face as it was the one in his eyes, twinkling humor across the gold, streaked with green and molten brown, like melted chocolate, and she knew what he was going to say before he even opened his mouth.
“Oh, I could think of a few things that tickle my fancy,” he said, dropping his voice an octave and in a clear charade of seduction. Yeah, right, the man could seduce a brick wall with a wink and a nod. He didn’t have to fake seduction.
“You’re incorrigible,” she replied. She glanced back at the dog. “Casanova…”
Micah laughed at her side, and Lily felt that laugh like a caress, running down her sides, making her breathing heavy and her body ache. Despite everything that had happened in the shower, both the cleaning part and after, she hadn’t been able to shake his touch from her skin, to shake the desire she felt for more than just a brush of fingers across her cheek.
“One is enough,” he said. “I don’t need a second Lothario in my life, thank you very much.”
“I am not a Lothario!” Dec lobbed a mushroom across the table and Micah ducked out of the way, so it splatted on the floor behind him. Not-Hermione-Cupcake-or-Casanova barked from her spot in the kitchen. Rosie and Axel didn’t even raise their heads, still asleep on the couch.
“You’re right,” Micah said, his voice apologetic. “Lotharios are usually more successful.”
Lily just watched them, the comfortable banter, the easy camaraderie of brotherhood, because whatever had brought these two men together, and whatever kept them so close, even now, was clearly a bond as strong as any brotherly ties. She’d been lucky, growing up with Maddy and their loving mom and dad, though it hadn’t always been easy, as Maddy had dealt with the loss of her parents and the uprooting of her life through the adoption. But they would always have a home, her and Mads, a place to return to when the going got a little tough. Lily couldn’t deny the sensation she felt that neither Dec nor Micah shared that same comfortable hearth.
Out of the buried and locked corners of her mind, an image floated. It was such an aged memory, not just by time but by abuse and neglect, and the corners were faded and a little out of focus, but oh, God, she felt the truth of it right down to her bones, and all of a sudden it felt like she was all bones, a rattling skeleton of the woman who might have lived in that little house with the man she loved, if life hadn’t all gone so terribly wrong.
“Lily?” Dec cocked his head into her line of sight and she blinked, confused to find that she was just a little watery, and no, God no, she was not going to cry, not here and not ever again. Coming out to the ranch to finish her fieldwork was a step forward, several steps forward, and she needed to hold onto the victory of healing and relief, not allow herself to fall back into the what could have beens that had haunted her for so long. “Honey, are you okay?”
Micah didn’t say a word, but he was there, closer, his presence like the warm glow of the fire on a cold night. Both their gazes were potent and concerned, and she must have looked a mess to warrant such an incredible change of atmosphere in such a short time. But their caring, both of their caring, and the power that each of these two men had over her desires, which she still hadn’t freaking figured out the why or how of, it wasn’t helping, not even a little bit.
Coming here had been a mistake. She’d been drunk on sangria and October in the mountains and the freedom of being away from the shop that ruled her entire life, and she’d been weak, so happy to find that her desire, her base carnal longings hadn’t deserted her completely, that she’d agreed to come up here, to be alone with these two men who confused the ever-loving shit out of her.
But it had been a mistake. Because, though she didn’t look at either of them, she could feel them, sense them, almost see what they were thinking, and Lily knew she wasn’t ready. Definitely not for this, probably not for being back at work or for even leaving her shop for a short time. How on earth had she thought she was ready, when the weight of her guilt and raw grief—God, weren’t wounds supposed to heal over time? —gnawed at her insides and made her suddenly feel sick to her soul?
She stood up abruptly and tossed her napkin to the chair, making for the hallway. “I need to go,” she said. “I think I’m going to call Madison, stay down there tonight.” She spoke with her back to the two men and the intensity of their gazes, their concern, only grew hotter and stronger. Neither of them made a move to stand, though, and for that she was incredibly grateful. If either man touched her right then, she wouldn’t
be able to hold back the barrage of tears just lingering right at the edge.
“Lily, what’s wrong?” Micah asked. His voice was low, barely audible over the whirling of thoughts in her head, and she clenched her fists hard to keep from spilling over, with the crying, with the everything.
“I thought I was ready,” she said. And yup, there was the sob, there was that banshee-like wail of air being sucked into her throat against the scratch of her tightening windpipe. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready…” The words caught, tangled in her mouth, in her mind, a truth so desperate and sad, so raw and painful, that she gave over to it, to the fierce sobs that caught in her chest and her throat. She didn’t cry out loud, but shook, as if her body was trying to exorcise her demons. Well, it hadn’t gotten the memo that those demons were here to stay.
“Can…can you call Madison?” she asked. “Please?”
“I already texted her,” Dec said. “She’s on her way up.”
Lily didn’t even care that he’d clearly called in the reinforcements at her moment of weakness. It was better that way, better that these men take their cues and leave her to disgusting, pitiful sobbing until Madison got there.
“Come on, Wild Flower.” But Micah was at her side, not leaving, not giving her the space to stare down the empty, dark hallway, wondering what the ever-loving fuck she had thought to accomplish by emailing her research advisor that night. She turned back away from him, but Dec was only a few feet from her, leaning against the counter as if to give her an escape route, not to crowd around her. She hated that, hated that these two strangers, barely even friends, knew what she needed, even when she couldn’t even tell up from down. Before she could muster enough extra air into her lungs to tell Micah to just leave her, to let Madison come up here and play clean-up crew, Micah slipped his arm under her waist and lifted her up from the ground, cradling her to his chest just as he had done with the still-unnamed puppy only a little while earlier.
“What kind of tea do you want?” he asked. “I know you have a stock in your bag. Dec will get you some.”
She shook her head as he carried her over to the couch and made to place her down. Without conscious thought, she clung to his arm. Desperate as she’d been for him not to touch her, she couldn’t imagine him letting go. But she didn’t need to say it for him to get the message and, instead of depositing her on the couch, he sat down and held her in his lap, stroking her hair, her back, her arms, as if she were a child.
God, she felt like a child. She’d all but been a child five years ago, seven years ago. Seven freaking years ago. And yet, some days that time felt like a blip, a mistake in the continuum that had run through in double speed, so fast she’d barely seen it.
“Lemon,” she managed under her breath. “Lemon’s my favorite…” and why on earth were those the first words out of her mouth, when this big mountain of a man was holding her so close, not showing any signs of fear or frustration at her inexplicable breakdown. Lemon. It was the only rational thing she could focus on right now.
“On it,” Dec said, and she watched him move down the hall out of her peripheral, in search of lemon tea, as if any of that would solve anything, as if lemon tea could somehow give her answers, peace. Daniel.
“God, I’m so sorry.” She had to choke out the words, her throat still so swollen from the waterworks. “This is the worst way in the world to thank you guys for letting me stay here.”
Micah pressed a chaste kiss to her hair and continued to stroke her back.
“Don’t talk, Lily. Don’t worry. It’s all okay.”
But it wasn’t okay and she had to wonder if it would ever, ever be okay.
Before she could respond, though, the door to the cabin swung open, sending a huge rush of cool air into the room and Madison came running inside, panic stretching across her beautiful face.
She sat down on the couch beside Micah, doing her damnedest to hide her concern, but Lily knew it was there, just as Maddy knew exactly what was wrong. They were too close, too connected, to ever get away with hiding things from each other.
“Oh, sweetie.” Maddy stroked her face, tears in her own eyes now. “Oh, my sweet Lily.” God, but was there anything in the world better than the touch of a sister’s comforting hand? Though Micah’s strokes up and down her arm were definitely a close contender.
“I wasn’t ready, Mads,” Lily said after a long moment had passed. “I thought I was. I really did.”
“It’s okay,” Maddy replied. “It’s all okay. You were ready the day you requested to go back into the field and now you’re feeling a little unsure. That doesn’t mean all is lost, okay?”
The kettle rang out behind them, and Lily took a deep breath, the first dry one she’d managed since this whole circus had started. She took another, then another, then Dec was there, holding a cup of lemon tea, a schooled, unreadable expression on his handsome face. He handed it to her and she took the steaming mug, sitting up a little in Micah’s arms to inhale her favorite scent.
Oh, God. Now that her little freak-fest was over, she was suddenly very aware of the mess she’d made. Her face felt tight from the tears drying on her skin and a steady, low drumming banged against her temple. Pound, pound, pound.
She’d been away from her shop for less than twenty-four hours and had completely lost her shit. Full-on panic attack meltdown. In front of Madison, who was watching her with carefully concealed panic on her pretty face and in front of Dec and Micah too, who had been fun and kind and a desperately needed reassurance that she hadn’t lost her ability to desire a man, as she had honestly started to believe.
“I owe you guys an explanation,” she said, half into her teacup.
Once, Maddy had called her brave. It had been toward the end and Lily had fallen asleep at her parents’ house, waking in the middle of the night to terrors about hospital rooms and bright lights and the low, sad line that meant a heart had stopped beating. Maddy had been home from college and she’d woken to Lily’s whimpering on the couch in the living room and she’d held her through the night, when the whimpering had turned to very awake sobbing for all that she hadn’t yet lost, but was so clearly going to.
She hadn’t cried that much in a long time, maybe even until tonight.
But Maddy had called her brave. Her big sister, once a dear cousin, who had survived losing both her parents at the same time, had called her brave. For staying. For continuing to love a man who was so close to the end.
Lily didn’t feel very brave right now. Right now, she felt bone weary, in a way that had nothing to do with the hours she’d spent in the dirt that afternoon and everything to do with the pounding rush of guilt and fear and panic that had consumed her all at once at the dinner table. In San Francisco, back at the shop, she had found a way to keep those demons at bay. But all her defenses, all her excuses, all that she had so carefully constructed around her heart to keep her safe and sound, all that had shattered into a million tiny pieces the night she had emailed Dr. Malachi and told him she was ready to go back out into the field.
“You don’t owe us anything,” Dec said. He was standing behind the sofa, just over Maddy’s shoulder, and he had a fierce, protective expression on his usually easygoing and cheerful face. An absurd thought crossed her mind in that instant, because Lily actually found herself thinking that she had never seen such an expression on Dec’s face. Never. Right, because she had known this man less than a day and whatever illusions she had about something deeper and stronger and more powerful were illusions and nothing else.
Just like the illusion of how comfortable she felt in Micah’s embrace, as if this wasn’t the second night in a row she had ended up in his lap on this couch, and a whole lot less fun for it.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” she said, looking up into his deep, mysterious face. He looked back into hers, holding her gaze, giving a taste of that same fierce protectiveness she had seen in Dec’s. It was too much. But this time, it didn’t set her off, not
like before. This time, for whatever reason, Madison’s presence or the screwdriver that had gotten Lily’s head back on straight, she was happy that Dec and Micah were here, looking for all the world as though they’d do whatever it took to never see her cry again. Head-trip alert.
“I don’t mind,” Micah said. He leaned down and brushed a strand of her hair off her face. It had adhered to her skin with all the tears, and he tugged it free, brushing it behind her ear. “And Dec’s right. You don’t have to tell us a thing. But if you want to, we’ll listen.”
Lily felt, rather than saw, Madison glancing between the three of them and Lily just knew she was about to entertain one hell of a conversation with her sister when all the drama of the night had passed. But, for now, one problem at a time.
“The abridged version,” she said, sitting up, because it was really freaking hard to concentrate on anything with Micah’s powerful, muscled back pressed against her. “I skipped a few grades.” She said this part on a laugh, as if any of it mattered. The ages and numbers and details sure as shit didn’t. “So I was a senior in college when I was nineteen. It seems so young now, but I really loved him, I did. I was young, yeah, but Daniel, God…” She cut herself off, then squared her shoulders and lifted her head. If she couldn’t even talk about this then how in the hell could she ever move past it, ever heal from it?
“He was diagnosed at the end of our last semester.” She said it all in a rush. “He was supposed to go on, you know, had nearly a full ride to Colorado for his grad program and he would have been great.” She let herself reminisce for the moment, let herself remember that day in summer when Daniel, then her lover and partner for over a year, had gotten the notice of acceptance to his top school. They’d been camping, when the email had come through, and had spent the night making love around the fire. “Hodgkin’s Lymphoma…” Deep breath out.