by Maya Banks
The waves reached for her toes, and she playfully dodged the foamy water before finally allowing it to wash over her ankles.
When she’d walked far enough that the sound of the waves drowned out the distant music, she stopped and stared at the horizon. A blanket of stars draped itself over the water, brilliant diamonds twinkling against the black.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it.”
She spun around, shocked to see Logan standing there, hands shoved into his pockets. He looked as though he hadn’t showered, shaved or changed in a week.
Rumpled pants, disheveled shirt. Work clothes.
She finally closed her mouth and tried to control the tremble of her muscles.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He moved closer until she could see the anger outlined on his face. The moon cast a pale glow over both of them, and she backed hesitantly away until she was ankle-deep in the surf.
His fingers closed around her upper arm, and he pulled her forward until she was clear of the water.
“I came to find you,” he said simply.
“But how did you know where I was?” she asked, still numb with the shock of seeing him. He was here. Not at work.
His expression darkened. “It wasn’t easy. I had no idea where you’d gone. You left no note. Made no call. Just disappeared. I had to assume you’d gone on the trip you’d planned, but even then, I had no idea what arrangements you’d made. Jamaica isn’t such a small place when you have no idea where to begin looking.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and stared defiantly at him. Did the arrogant bastard actually expect her to feel badly after he’d stood her up on their anniversary then cancelled the trip he’d promised he’d take with her?
“Come here,” he said quietly, pulling her into his strong arms.
She was a mass of conflicting emotions as she pressed against his chest. God, it had been so long since he’d held her, touched her. In the past, all it had taken was a simple caress, a few soft words, and she’d forget and forgive.
Not this time.
She started to pull away, but his hold on her tightened.
“Let’s go back to the hotel room. I’m tired. I stink. I’m dirty. I’ve been in these clothes for three days. We can talk after I’ve had a shower.”
“Where is Rhys?” she asked, afraid that maybe he hadn’t come.
“Looking for you,” he said darkly. “Now come on. Let’s go back to the room.”
“You should get your own,” she said quietly.
He stared at her, his eyes blazing, and she looked away, swallowing the urge to run. He reached out, his fingers stroking over her wrist before curling around her palm.
“Come back to our room, Catherine. We’ve come a long way to find you. The least you can do is talk to us.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her nose burned from the effort of holding them back. “Talk? Now you want to talk? After months—years—of ignoring me, now you want to talk?”
She shook from head to toe, and she was fast losing the tenuous grip she had on her emotions.
“Come back with me.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a command. To her dismay, she started forward, allowing him to lead her down the beach toward the hotel.
His fingers remained tightly wrapped around her hand as if he feared she’d flee.
Through the crowd of dancers, up the steps to the veranda and past the live band. Into the cool interior of the hotel, down the hallway to the elevator. They walked, silently.
He pulled her into the elevator, pushed the button for the top floor then curled his arms around her, molding her back to his chest.
She closed her eyes, trembling in his arms. How long had it been since he’d held her? Touched her intimately? Looked at her like he’d done on the beach, like she was the only woman in the world, a woman he wanted badly.
His lips burrowed into her hair, nuzzling the back of her neck. A prickle of desire skittered down her spine. She craved him, needed him. God, she needed him.
She leaned back into him, cursing her weakness but loving the solid security she felt in his arms.
“Where did you get this outfit?” he murmured against her ear.
The elevator opened, and he curled a hand around her wrist once more, tugging her into the hallway.
“I bought it for our vacation,” she said through tight lips.
He fumbled in his pocket as they neared the suite and pulled out the room card. He jammed the card into the slot and shoved the door open.
A blast of cool air raised goose bumps on her exposed skin, and she rubbed her arms as they walked further into the room.
His and Rhys’ luggage was thrown carelessly on the floor as if they’d dumped it and left just as quickly. In their search for her? Her gaze slid sideways, gauging his mood.
He was looking intently at her even as he loosened his shirt and began pulling at his pants.
“What are you doing?” she asked faintly, heat surging to her cheeks.
The door opened and Rhys swept in, looking as haggard as Logan did. When his gaze alighted on her, relief poured over his face, lightening his green eyes.
“Cat, thank God,” he whispered as he walked toward her.
He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly, his chest heaving against her. She tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let go. When he did finally relinquish her, it was only to tilt her head back and capture her lips in a demanding kiss.
Anger, need, sadness, passion. Love. It was too much. She yanked away, emotion nearly choking her. She turned, not wanting either man to see how upset, how indecisive, she was.
“Cat,” Rhys said in his husky voice. “Look at me.”
She shook her head and focused her watery stare at the opposite wall.
Logan reached out and touched her cheek, brushing at the trail of moisture. “Don’t cry, Catherine. Please don’t cry. Let us love you. Give us tonight. We’ll talk tomorrow—I swear it.”
She shook off his touch, immediately feeling bereft of the warmth of his fingers. She backed away, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.
“I don’t want you here,” she said in a shaky voice.
As she spoke, she lifted her chin and stared first at Rhys and then over at Logan. Hurt briefly flickered across Rhys’ face, but Logan’s dark eyes were unreadable.
“You don’t want to be here, so why are you?” she challenged as anger bubbled free. She had to swallow and breathe deeply through her nose. The urge to scream at them, to make them bleed as she’d bled, was strong.
“Because you’re here,” Logan said quietly. “And you belong with us.”
She couldn’t control the flood of hurt as she yanked her gaze up to his. He actually flinched, and guilt crept into his expression.
Strong hands curled over her bare shoulders. Rhys moved in from behind, his lips pressing against the curve of her neck. Logan reached for her hand, and she pulled it away.
He ignored her rejection and closed the distance between them, reaching around to retrieve the hand she’d hidden behind her back.
Without saying another word, he tugged her away from Rhys and led her into the bedroom. His finger slid up her spine, eliciting a delicate shiver. He stopped when he reached the thin tie of her top. With a tug, the scrap of material fell away, baring her breasts.
The finger wandered back down her spine until it reached the small of her back. Then his hand caressed the bare skin of her bottom, cupping and kneading one cheek, then the other. He pulled the G-string from the cleft of her ass, running his finger down the length.
With a quick yank, he broke the strap and let the material fall down her legs.
“Logan, I don’t think—”
He put a finger to her lips. “Shhhh.”
She stared at him, praying she didn’t look as vulnerable as she felt. With one hand splayed over her ass, he moved the other hand from her lips down to cup her breast in his p
alm. His thumb rubbed lightly over the nipple, causing it to tighten and pucker.
“Don’t move,” he commanded as he turned and walked out of the room.
He was back in seconds, one of her scarves in his hand. Her eyes widened as he quickly wrapped it around her wrists.
“Logan—”
“Shhhh,” he said again. He finished restraining her wrists then nudged her toward the bed. The back of her knees met the mattress, and he pressed until she was forced to lie back. He raised her hands and secured them to the bedpost.
She stared at him with wide eyes, nervous as Rhys came to stand beside the bed. It had been so long. And she was weak. How could she welcome them back into her bed when they’d ignored her for so long? She closed her eyes, refusing to allow them to see the need and the longing.
“We both need a shower,” Logan said in a low voice. “We’ve been traveling forever, haven’t changed our clothes. And I want you to be here when we get back.”
Beside her Rhys ran a finger over her shoulder, around the sensitive skin of her neck, into the hollow of her throat and then lower to her breast. He circled her nipple until it puckered and stood taut.
Need burned between her legs, tightening her pussy until she fidgeted and twisted restlessly. When was the last time either of them had touched her? Looked at her with lust in their eyes?
They’d sworn never to take advantage of her and that they’d always take care of her. Love her. Give her what she needed. Only they’d lied.
She turned her face away, not wanting them to see her pain. Rhys bent and kissed her softly on the temple. The simple gesture was nearly her undoing.
“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. “And then I’m going to love every inch of you.”
She looked up to see them walk away, one into the bathroom adjoining the bedroom and the other back toward the living room and the other bathroom.
She tugged at the scarf binding her wrists, but it held firm. Closing her eyes, she heaved a heavy sigh. This is what she wanted. Had wanted, she corrected herself. It was what she’d spent the last months longing for.
It was too little, too late. Would they be here if she hadn’t left them without a word? If they didn’t fear she’d walked out on them?
It was a question she wasn’t sure she was ready to hear the answer to. She still hadn’t decided what exactly she wanted to do. She’d taken the trip to give her time to think about what her next step would be. She hadn’t counted on them showing up. At least not so soon.
CHAPTER FOUR
Rhys leaned his forehead against the shower wall as water pelted his back. He’d seen something in Cat’s eyes he never wanted to see again. Had never imagined seeing.
Pain. Pain that he’d caused. And worse, a loss of hope. As if she’d given up on him and their marriage.
He clenched his fist and pushed himself off the wall. How could he undo several years in a matter of a few days? How could he make her see that he loved her and didn’t want to lose her? It wasn’t as simple as apologizing. He could sense the difference in her. The resolve.
In a hurry to return to her, he washed and stepped out, dragging a towel over his body to dry it. His balls ached, and his cock was stiff as a board.
Naked, he walked back into the bedroom where Catherine still lay, her blond hair spread over the pillow. She looked at him as he approached, her expression wary, a mixture of sadness and desire in her eyes.
He sat down on the bed beside her and reached out a hand to touch her cheek.
“I know we need to talk,” he said quietly. “But I’m no good with words. Let me show you, Cat. Let me love you. Then we’ll talk. I promise.”
Her eyes were shiny, brimming with moisture.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
The softly spoken words signaled her surrender, and he closed his eyes in relief. Then he reached up to untie her hands.
She turned fully on her back, watching him beneath her lashes. He could see her indecision, and he didn’t want to give her a chance to change her mind.
He stood beside the bed and trailed his fingers over her breasts, stroked her puckered nipples then caressed his way over her soft belly.
“Spread your legs,” he said.
She hesitated just a moment before relaxing her legs, allowing her thighs to part, giving him a tantalizing view of her pussy.
Silky blond curls guarded her tender pink flesh.
“Touch yourself,” he said huskily. “Open yourself for me.”
Her right hand glided slowly down her stomach until it hovered over the soft mound. After a brief pause, her fingers slid into the folds, spreading until he could see the opening to her pussy and her swollen clit.
Her middle finger stroked once then twice over the quivering bud. She moaned softly and closed her eyes. God, she was sexy. Head thrown back, hair streaming over the sheets, her lips parted as a sigh escaped them.
He crawled onto the bed, positioning himself at her feet. He bent down and pressed his lips to the inside of her ankle. Gently grasping her slender leg in his hand, he kissed a path upward, licking and nibbling.
When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he scooted down to her other foot and began again, giving this leg the same tender treatment.
Her breath caught when he nipped the inside of her thigh. His lips hovered over her pussy, and he smiled as he felt her hold herself in anticipation.
He moved instead to her belly and blazed a wet trail up her taut abdomen to the swells of her breasts.
“Oh...” The gasp escaped her lips as he sucked her nipple between his teeth.
Her hand left her pussy, and she dug her fingers into his hair, holding him to her breast.
He tugged himself away and moved his body up until his face hovered over hers. He kissed her, wanting to taste her, wanting to capture her sweet sounds into his mouth. He wanted to absorb every inch of her, make her forget everything but the fact that he was here with her.
Catherine broke away with a ragged breath. She sucked in mouthfuls of air before Rhys captured her mouth once again. He moved with urgency. He touched her, kissed her like he hadn’t since they’d first been married.
Hot, wild, she wanted to crawl right out of her skin. Restless and aching, she could no longer remain still, no longer allow him control.
She pushed at him, rolling him off her. He looked at her with bewildered eyes as she rose over him, letting her hair spill onto his chest.
Placing both her hands on his shoulders, she lowered her head and consumed his lips in a hungry, carnal kiss. Too long had she gone without the close physical intimacy she craved, and now she wasn’t content to lie back and allow him to call the shots.
When she pulled away to gasp for breath, she saw the surprise in his eyes, but she also saw something else. Want. Need. Curiosity. Desire.
A smile curved her lips. A wicked smile she hoped.
She straddled his body, shoving his arms upward. He arched one brow but allowed her to dictate his movements. When his hands were above his head, she trailed her fingers down the undersides of his arms until she reached his broad chest.
She shifted her body until she cradled his cock between her legs. Hard, thick, it brushed against her wetness, and she rubbed up and down, loving the electric currents that raced through her body every time her clit nudged the head of his penis.
“Tease,” he gasped out.
“This is my show,” she murmured as she continued to rock back and forth.
She leaned forward and nipped at his neck. Lightly at first, then she sank her teeth into the corded muscle behind his ear. He groaned and shifted underneath her. He started to lower his arms, but she sat up and put both hands on his chest in protest.
“Don’t move.”
He grinned and slowly let his hands fall back to the pillow. “I think I like you this way.”
“Maybe I should have done it sooner, then,” she whispered. “Maybe you’d want to spend more time with me if
I had.”
His eyes darkened into what looked like regret. “Cat—” he began.
She put a finger over his lips as he had done hers earlier. She reached between them with her other hand and grasped his swollen cock. With a twist of her hips, she positioned him at her entrance and slid down, engulfing him.
His entire body tensed and he moved his hands up, paused then let them fall back to the bed as if remembering her earlier dictate.
“Oh God,” he groaned. “You feel so good.”
“Tell me what you want,” she said breathlessly. She stared down at him, stilling her movements. Then she arched, sliding nearly off of him.
“Cat...”
“Tell me,” she commanded.
“I want you to fuck me,” he growled. “I want your hands and lips on me. I want my dick so far in your pussy that I’m drowning.”
She slid her palms over the hard muscles of his chest and slowly lowered her hips until he was fully within her again.
“Harder,” he said.
“I want you to beg,” she countered, her eyes locked with his once more.
A sound had her turning her head to see Logan standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Naked, his cock stiff and distended, his hand curled around it as he stroked back and forth.
He watched silently as she stared at him, her body still, Rhys buried deeply within her.
His fingers rolled over his engorged penis, coaxing the foreskin toward the head, pausing, then pulling downward again.
She knew he liked to watch. It aroused her too. There was something primal, forbidden, about belonging to two men, having one watch while the other pleasured her.
Slowly, she turned her attention back to Rhys. His hands were still above his head, and she leaned forward, gripping his shoulders as she lifted her hips, sliding up his cock with a leisure that contradicted the edgy need boiling just under the surface of her skin.
She trembled, shaking with the force of her desire. It had been too long, and she craved him. Craved them both with a desperation that frightened her. How was she supposed to survive the decision she must make? How was she supposed to exist away from them?