Kiss Me Crazy

by Vanessa Vale

  “I think the term is dirty.” He grinned. “And yeah, with you? Definitely.”

  “You like role play then?”

  He leaned down, kissed me gently as his hands went to my hips. “I’m into everything with you.”

  Oh.

  Dash took a step away and Jackson moved to stand by his side so they faced me.

  “Show us your gorgeous breasts,” Dash said.

  No, he ordered as he stared at my pale pink bra. I sent up a little thanks to the bra gods that I hadn’t put on a plain one when I got up this morning. The way he was eyeing me, as if he couldn’t wait to get his hands—and mouth—on them only confirmed he really was a breast man.

  I sucked in a quick breath. I didn’t want to be turned on by that commanding tone, but it did something to me. It was like his voice had a direct link to my clit.

  I lowered one strap and then the other, reveling in the way their eyes darkened at the sight of my breasts being exposed one inch at a time. Reaching back, I unfastened the clasp, dropping the bra on the floor. When they didn’t move, didn’t do anything but stare, I took a step toward them.

  “Not so fast,” Jackson said. Shit, even sweet, loveable Jackson sounded bossy. He came to me, his fingers running over the exposed skin, so gently I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. My hands itched to touch him, too, but I knew I’d be scolded again if I tried.

  Knowing that made my pussy throb painfully and I pressed my thighs together.

  Dash turned me so I faced the mirror over the desk, watched as his hands traced over the tan lines from my shoulder and lower to where they formed small, white triangles on my breasts, then down to circle my nipples. I could see Jackson behind us, watching with that intense look of his.

  “Where’d you wear such a teensy tiny bikini, baby doll?” Dash asked.

  He didn’t have to see the hot pink two-piece in my suitcase to know it was tiny.

  My mouth was dry. I was so focused on the sight of his large, calloused hands cupping my breasts that I couldn’t respond. The feel of it made me shiver and my nipples tightened even further.

  When I didn’t answer, he pinched the tight tips as Jackson took a step closer. “He asked you a question.”

  Oh God, that voice was delicious. “Um, Mexico,” I managed. “I was in Tulum on assignment. That’s where I came from this morning.”

  I could feel Dash’s smile against my neck. “You were at a beach in Mexico in December but you decided to come back to Montana for the holidays? You must love the snow.”

  Hardly. “Sister’s wedding,” I said between pants for air. Jesus, they decided now was the time to play catch up? Talking about my sister, my family in general, was the biggest turn-off ever. I just hoped they didn’t ask any questions about the wedding. The last thing I wanted was to talk about any of that while I was mostly naked and Dash McPherson was feeling me up.

  He frowned at me in the mirror and his hands stilled. “Tulum? Wasn’t there a shooting there the other day?”

  I nodded and thrust my chest out, hoping he’d get the hint and start playing again. I didn’t want to talk about that either. Not ever, but especially not now when I was so thoroughly focused on those hands and the way he touched me. The shooting had nothing to do with my assignment and while I hadn’t been in the direct line of fire…it had been close enough. I’d heard the shots and the ensuing chaos. I shook my head to make that memory go away.

  Dash’s gaze was filled with concern and I was terrified he was going to ask more questions. This wasn’t supposed to be a therapy session, for Christ’s sake. This was a one-night-stand. There had to be a rule that said there was no heavy conversation.

  When Dash dropped to his knees and said, “Spread your legs,” it seemed small talk was over. Those were the words I liked to hear.

  I responded to the gruff command quickly. Too quickly, stepping wide once again. Shit, I hated being ordered around. “When’s it my turn to call the shots?” I asked.

  Dash grinned up at me but instead of answering, he leaned forward and buried his face between my thighs, his wet, hot mouth closing over my panties. That thin silk was the only thing keeping his tongue from my pussy and the hot friction was excruciating. I cried out and Jackson stepped right behind me, keeping me upright. He reached around, teased my nipples, pinching and rolling the sensitive peaks as I arched my back for more.

  I could feel a familiar tension building inside me. Well, hell. An orgasm had never come on so quickly for me before. I typically needed some assistance from a vibrator but my body had gone from zero to sixty at the feel of two men teasing me. Just seeing them seemed to be foreplay.

  “So close,” I breathed, my hands grasped Dash’s head to keep him right…there…between my thighs. “Don’t stop.”

  But as soon as I said the words, Dash pulled back and gave me that lazy grin. “Not so fast, baby doll. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

  I gaped down at him, ready to beg for release, but before I could, he spun me around so my breasts were crushed against Jackson’s chest. Jackson kissed me as Dash’s hand slapped my ass.

  “What—?”

  I jerked at the unexpected sting, but then moaned into Jackson’s mouth as my pussy clenched, begging for more. I’d never been spanked before and while it hadn’t been that hard, it had been… Holy fuck. Hot.

  Dash’s hands came up, fingers curling into the elastic of my panties and tugged them down. His lips pressed into the heated flesh where he had spanked.

  Once my ruined panties were down around my ankles, he gave me another playful swat. “Get on the bed.”

  Oh shit, when did Dash’s voice get so stern? I stared over at him in stunned silence for a minute as Jackson stepped to the side, giving me room, letting me decide what happened next.

  “Be a good girl and lie down on the bed,” Dash said, his voice a touch softer. “Spread those legs for us and let us see that wet pussy of yours.”

  Softer, but still dirty. I wanted this. I wanted them. I did as he said and went over to the bed.

  Laid back.

  Parted my legs.

  Showed them my wet pussy.

  And then they showed me the wild night I’d imagined.

  3

  DASH

  * * *

  The heat in my truck chugged away, but I still had to blow on my hands to keep them from freezing. I peered out the side window at Jackson’s parents’ picture-perfect house, with its smoking chimney and picket fence. White holiday lights dangled from the eaves and looked like icicles. A large wreath with a big red bow hung on the front door. Holly fell in swags along the front porch railing.

  They always got into the holiday spirit. Normally, I’d have been happy to head in there and let Jackson’s mom shove food in front of me while I waited for him, but we had somewhere to be and it couldn’t wait. Their annual holiday party was about to start and there was no doubt I’d be sucked into whatever preparations I knew Jackson was currently wrangled into doing. It was hard—no, impossible—to say no to his mom. And that was why I was out here. I was his excuse to leave.

  From the moment we’d woken yesterday morning in the Minneapolis hotel room to find Avery gone, I’d been grumpy. I should have spent the time since then with a crooked smile of a well-fucked guy, but no. That had lasted all of ten seconds when I’d rolled over and found her spot cold. I had no interest in cozying up to Jackson and without her between us, we’d felt like idiots.

  We felt like idiots also because she’d slipped out. She’d gone stealth mode on us, even though we’d went at it with her for most of the night. We just couldn’t get enough. And neither could she, at least until dawn when we finally passed out. And when she wasn’t at the gate when our flight was ready to take off, we had to assume she’d gotten a different way home, or she was on a sultry beach in Mexico working on those sexy-as-fuck tan lines.

  That didn’t mean we weren’t going to track her ass down and spank it.

  After we
did that, we’d have to win her over. Shit, we’d known we were going to have to win her over the moment we laid eyes on her at the airport gate. She was clearly a little prickly about her independence. But we obviously didn’t realize how tough it might be to convince her to spend more time with us—in and out of bed—until we woke to find her gone. She’d slipped away like a fucking ninja, never giving us the chance to tell her just how much the wild night meant to us. We weren’t monks, but we didn’t sleep around either. To us, she wasn’t a one-night-stand.

  My gut was telling me the more time and distance she got from us, the more our girl was going to downplay the connection we’d shared. She’d probably chalk it up to coincidence that we were all on the same cancelled flight and we had amazing chemistry—which there was plenty of—and leave it at that. But it was more than that. So much more.

  I knew it. Jackson knew it, but we’d have to convince Avery of it.

  But then, we were coming from very different backgrounds so we couldn’t expect her to have that same understanding. While she’d grown up in Bridgewater, her family hadn’t had a traditional Bridgewater marriage. She’d only had one father where Jackson and I each had two. Two dads and one mom apiece.

  But Avery’s parents? Judging by the town gossip, they didn’t have much of a marriage, traditional or otherwise. We had no way of knowing how Avery felt about being in a committed relationship at all, let alone one with two men.

  A bad song came on the radio and I changed stations, pushing the button with more effort than necessary.

  Yeah, committed relationship. We wanted her and for more than for a wild night in Minneapolis. We wanted everything with her. Her job took her all over the world—I’d searched online and found a bunch of her well-written travel articles—but as long as she came home to us, we could make it work. At least, we were willing to try.

  We’d hoped to fly back to Montana with her, take her out to breakfast. Go on dates while she was in town. From what she’d said, she hadn’t been too eager to be in her sister’s wedding, but perhaps having two guys to dance with her, to see that she had some fun, might make it better. To make her happy.

  That’s all we wanted to do, make her fucking happy. It was slightly insane, yes, but Bridgewater men knew their brides pretty much immediately. While we’d known Avery most of our lives, we’d been too young before. Having a crush on her in high school was fine and all, but we’d had college and another four years of vet school to get through. Now? With our practice established, we had everything we wanted. Except her.

  It’s just one night, right? Why not have a little fun while we’re stranded? she’d said.

  By the way she’d fucked and fled, she was only interested in us making her happy temporarily, at least until the orgasms faded. We were flings for her. The longer Avery spent away from us, the more she’d be able to convince herself of that.

  Fuck that.

  I’d done flings. So had Jackson. Not happening. At least, that was the last fling we were going to have and it was going to last the rest of our lives. Oh, we were going to pin her down, lick her pussy until she came. Every night. We’d fuck, fill her with our cum, prove to her she was ours. Every night. Fuck her together, one of us in her ass, the other in her pussy. We’d bend her over the kitchen table and give her a spanking, leaving her with our pink handprints on her ass to remind her how much we wanted her. Every fucking night. Hell, morning, noon and night. My balls ached at the thought. My sense of urgency at seeing her again, of telling her our intentions, only increased with every minute away from her.

  Tapping my freezing fingers against the steering wheel, I mentally urged Jackson to hurry the hell up. We’d already wasted enough time waiting for the next flight to Bozeman and then driving back to Bridgewater. It had been too late last night to show up on Avery’s doorstep, even if we’d known where her parents lived.

  This morning we stopped by our clinic to handle a tooth extraction on a beagle and an emergency surgery for a cat, but as soon as we’d finished up we headed out with one goal in mind. To convince Avery to give us a chance. It wasn’t going to be easy, but it was our destiny. There were no two ways about it.

  Finally, Jackson appeared in the doorway of his parents’ house.

  “About fucking time,” I muttered.

  Jackson gave me a quick wave of acknowledgement before turning to say something to whoever was behind him, then pulled the door shut. He headed down the shoveled front path, his lower legs hidden by the deep snow on either side.

  When he slid into the passenger seat, a burst of cold air followed. He gave me a grin and held up a slip of paper. “Sorry. My mother wrangled me into bringing the keg in from the fridge in the shop. And the only way I was going to get this—” he held up a slip of paper, “—was for me to explain our interest in Avery.”

  Jackson’s job had been to sweet talk his momma into giving us Avery’s parents’ address. Beverly Wray was friends with just about everyone in town. If there was anyone who knew where the Lanes lived, it would be her. And it looked like we’d been right. The price to pay was some heavy lifting and some heavier grilling. And patience.

  I took the paper from his gloved hand, read the address and was familiar with the street.

  “Took you long enough,” I grumbled. I stepped on the gas and headed west, just outside town limits. The distance wasn’t far but with the icy roads, it seemed to take forever.

  “Should we come up with a game plan?” Jackson asked.

  It was clear he was nervous. Hell, I was nervous too, but I’d developed a better game face over the years. He might have been the star athlete between the two of us, but I’d been the one who was always in the spotlight after my parents died eight years earlier. For far too long, I’d been subjected to pitiful stares and concerned whispers.

  Tragedy didn’t strike often in Bridgewater, so when my young, kind parents lost their lives to a drunk driver, it was big news. I’d lost my momma and both fathers on one snowy winter day just like this one. But at least I’d had a happy childhood first, filled with more love than most people could imagine.

  With role models like that, I supposed it was no wonder that I’d always wanted the same type of family of my own one day. Jackson’s family was the same way—minus the tragedy, of course. As lifelong best friends, we’d always known we’d take a wife together. I didn’t even think we’d ever talked about it, it was just understood.

  “I figured your mom was going to make us bring her to the party.”

  He looked to me, grinned. “She did.”

  But that didn’t mean we were going to. If Avery wasn’t up for it, or worse, if we couldn’t get her to agree, then we’d do something else. Anything she wanted. While we’d spent the night with her, we didn’t know much about her or her family and we planned on changing that.

  I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. I hated gossiping, even if it was all in the interest of winning our girl. “Did you ask your mom about her parents?”

  Jackson nodded, fiddling with the heat since it was finally warm in the truck. “I did, and she confirmed the rumors. Their marriage has been on the rocks since the very beginning, apparently. There’s been talk of cheating, separations, family counseling, the works. Why they married in the first place is beyond me.”

  I focused on keeping us on the road as I let that digest. Was Avery skittish about any kind of relationship because she had no example of what it could really be like, or was it us she avoided? Did we mean so little to her?

  I frowned at the stark, white landscape. The snowy vista was beautiful, even as it covered the craggy mountains in the distance.

  We’d known it would be an uphill battle to convince her to give us a chance, but this news didn’t help my optimism any. “Are you sure it’s not just gossip?”

  “My mom’s best friends with her aunt, Louise—you remember her, don’t you? She used to work as a nurse at the doc’s office.”

  I nodded. I remembered her. When I was a
kid, she handed out lollipops after I got my shots.

  “What did she have to say?”

  Jackson turned to give me a wry smile. “That they’re crazy.”

  I raised one brow. “Crazy? That was her word, huh? Was that her professional medical opinion?”

  Jackson laughed and shrugged in that easy way of his that had always put women at ease. “I’m just the messenger. Momma said that Louise told her that family is toxic. The parents aren’t happy and they take it out on the kids. I don’t think they ever hit Avery or her younger sister. Nothing like that, but it sounds like they grew up in the middle of a battlefield.” Jackson stared out the window for a bit, his expression unusually grim. “Hard to believe Avery turned out so sane and…and…”

  “Passionate?” I suggested.

  My mind wandered back to our epic night of lovemaking—yes, oral sex and fucking and anal play would all be considered lovemaking with the right woman—and I still marveled at how responsive she’d been. How eager. Good Lord, that girl was meant to be in our bed.

  “I was going to say kind,” Jackson replied, rubbing his hand over his beard. “If that’s the way she was raised, it’s a wonder she’s so sweet.” I could all but hear the grin in his voice as he added, “And yeah, passionate as fuck, too. Our girl is definitely uninhibited.”

  Hot. Wild. Sensitive. Easily aroused. Bold.

  We were both grinning like idiots as we reached the turn for her parents’ place. She was everything we wanted in a woman, and we hadn’t needed years to figure that out. We’d just…known. It might have sounded strange to outsiders, but for Bridgewater men, it was just our way. We’d been raised to listen to our instincts and trust our gut when it came to finding our lifelong love.

  Just like with our tacit agreement to share a wife, Jackson and I hadn’t even had to talk about going after her. We’d taken one look at Avery at the gate in the Minneapolis airport, curled up with her overnight bag leaning against the airport wall, and we’d known.

  She was ours.