by Maya Banks
The three of them had been together since their early days in college. Logan had come from a dirt-poor family and was only able to attend university via a scholarship. He’d always been the most determined to make something of himself.
Rhys’ mother had worked two jobs to make sure he could go to college. When she died during his sophomore year, he’d vowed to see her dream of him graduating and becoming successful come true. Catherine and Logan had gone with him to her funeral, and Rhys had stood there at her grave, head bowed. Catherine had held his hand as he whispered his goodbye to his mother—and his vow to make her proud.
Catherine took another sip of her juice and stared over the water, lost in her memories. Looking back, she couldn’t really pinpoint when things had changed from friendship between the three of them to something more. She’d been deeply conflicted about her feelings for both men and desperate not to lose either of them, even if it meant suppressing anything beyond friendship.
Logan, being Logan, had simply brought things to a head one night in their tiny apartment. He’d asked Rhys very bluntly if he loved Catherine. Rhys looked stunned—and guilty—as though he knew Logan loved her as well and that his admission would be a betrayal. But neither could he tell her to her face that he didn’t love her.
Logan very matter-of-factly informed Rhys and Catherine that he also loved her. Then he calmly asked her how she felt about them. It had taken several moments for her to gather her courage and lay it on the line. She loved them both.
They hadn’t immediately had all the answers. They already lived together, so embarking on a much deeper relationship had been easy. Logan and Rhys were extremely protective of her, not wanting the true nature of their relationship to become public. So outside the privacy of their apartment, they remained three best friends.
As they grew more secure in their relationship, they shed caution. Logan began to talk about a permanent arrangement. Marriage. More and more, he and Rhys didn’t care that others knew they loved the same woman. And Catherine? As long as she had their love, nothing else mattered to her.
Wanting to show a visible connection to both men, she legally changed her last name to Cullen, and then she married Logan, taking his last name as well.
A shadow fell over her, obscuring the sun from her face. Dragged from her thoughts, she glanced up to see Rhys looking much as he had the night before. Haggard and tired. Worried.
“Can I sit?” he asked hesitantly.
She shrugged and gestured to the empty chair across from her. The waiter appeared, and Rhys ordered coffee and breakfast.
“You’re not eating,” he said as he stared at her simple glass of juice.
“I wasn’t hungry.”
He looked down then lifted his gaze to the distant waves. The breeze ruffled his dark hair, and she studied the lines around his eyes and firm mouth. Those lines weren’t there five years ago. Back then he’d always had a ready smile, teasing and fun.
The light had gone out of his green eyes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen joy reflected in their depths.
She blinked when he caught her studying him.
“I was worried, Cat,” he said quietly.
She shrugged again, unsure of how else to react.
Anger fired in his eyes, surprising her. Emotion. Apparently he was still capable of it, even if it was only anger.
“You didn’t used to be so flip,” he accused. “God, Cat, I thought you’d walked out on us.”
She eyed him calmly, though beneath the surface she seethed like a cauldron. “What makes you think I haven’t walked out?”
His eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened.
“Why should I stay, Rhy?” she asked quietly. “Give me one reason I shouldn’t leave.”
“I love you,” he growled. “That should damn well be reason enough.”
She smiled sadly then sat back, bringing the glass of juice to her lips. She took a small sip then pulled it away from her mouth, letting it dangle in front of her vision, something to focus on.
She glanced up at him. “Do you remember what it was like before we got married?”
His brows drew together in confusion. She ignored him and went on.
“Us three sharing a one-bedroom apartment, eating beans and franks, stocking up on ramen noodles because it was all we could afford. The foot rubs you used to give me when I came home from a double shift at the diner.”
She stared dreamily off into the distance as those memories wrapped her in their warm embrace.
Rhys made a sound of impatience. “I try not to remember those days.”
She jerked her gaze back to him to see a deep scowl marring his features. “Why?”
“Because we had nothing,” he gritted out. “Logan and I couldn’t take care of you. You worked too damn hard to support our start-up efforts.”
She smiled gently. “And what do we have now?”
“We have money,” he said bluntly. “We have a nice place to live, the best food to eat. You don’t have to work yourself ragged.”
“I’m not happy,” she said, being equally blunt.
He looked at her in shock, his cheeks losing their color.
“I haven’t been happy in a long time. Too long,” she amended.
“Why?” he asked in a voice that cracked.
Her hand shook as she lowered the glass back to the table. “You don’t love me,” she said softly. “You don’t even know I exist half the time unless it’s to call me and say you can’t make dinner or you’re leaving on a last-minute business trip.”
“We love you, Catherine, and we’re not letting you go without a fight,” Logan said in a grim voice.
She looked up to see him standing a few feet away, partially obscured by the greenery. He stepped forward, his face creased with determination. The waiter, ever solicitous, appeared with another chair that he hastily shoved up to the table. A second waiter appeared to deliver Rhys’ food as Logan took his seat. He waved off a menu and ordered coffee.
“How much did you overhear?” she asked quietly.
“Everything,” Logan bit out. “Every single ridiculous part.”
She raised one eyebrow. “How like you to discount my feelings,” she murmured. “God knows you’ve had enough practice.”
Logan shifted impatiently. “Look, baby, I’m sorry we missed our anniversary dinner, and I’m sorry we cancelled the trip. Sorrier than you know. If there was any way I could have avoided it, believe me I would have.”
She held her hand up, refusing to be swayed by those dark eyes caressing her, his tone low and beseeching.
“Once, I could understand. Hell, a dozen even. But you’ve made it your practice to put me second.” She broke off with an indelicate snort, one that bordered precariously close to tears. “I doubt I rank anywhere as high as second. I’ve spent the last few years begging, craving your time, your love. I’ve been patient. I’ve been understanding. I’ve smiled and nodded when I was screaming on the inside. I accept that it’s my fault. I let it go on way too long, but you know what? I don’t have to do it any longer. You speak of an anniversary dinner and one cancelled trip, and God, I wish that was all it was. Would that it were that simple. You’ve made your lives without me, without regard to my feelings or my wants and needs. Well, it’s time for me to step up and be responsible for my own happiness.”
She stood, no longer able to remain still, to sit there calmly and rationally. She couldn’t pretend to have a civil breakfast conversation when her entire life was falling apart.
“Cat, wait,” Rhys called as she ducked out of the alcove and hurried down the winding paths.
“Catherine, damn it, stop.”
Logan was close. She couldn’t outrun him, but she wouldn’t go meekly to the slaughter. Her spine stiff, she continued at a fast clip until his hand snagged her elbow and pulled her up short.
He yanked her around, pulling her close until she collided with his chest. His other hand cupped her face,
and he slanted his lips over hers, drinking deep, tasting her, devouring her like a man starving.
“I won’t let you go,” he vowed. “You can say what you want. You can rail at me. You can hit me, hate me, but I’m never letting you go.”
“You don’t have a choice. You can’t make me love you, Logan.”
It was a sorry thing to say even as angry as she was. Hurt flashed in his eyes, and he looked...devastated. Her heart contracted as he stared at her.
“Are you saying you don’t love me anymore?” he asked in a tight voice.
She closed her eyes as a tear slid down her cheek. “You know I love you.”
“Prove it,” he challenged.
She yanked her arm angrily away from him. “I don’t have to prove anything to you,” she spit out.
“Come back to the room with me and Rhys and listen to what we have to say, Catherine. Give us a chance. Let us try to make you happy again.”
She glanced over his shoulder to see Rhys standing in the pathway, hands shoved into his pants pockets. He looked tired and defeated.
“Please, baby,” Logan said softly. He reached for her hand, curling her fingers into his. His thumb stroked over her palm, and he brought her hand up to his mouth to kiss her knuckles.
“No sex,” she said solemnly, knowing damn well they’d both use any means necessary to press their advantage. “Sex won’t fix what’s wrong.”
Logan scowled.
“Talk. You’re supposed to talk to me.” As much as she wanted them to touch her again, to take her, to possess her—she’d spent the last months aching for them to do just that—they had to talk about the problem, not disguise it with sex.
Rhys chuckled in the background, and Logan only scowled harder.
“Jesus Christ, Catherine, when did you become one of those let’s talk about our feelings girls?”
“When you stopped talking to me,” she replied.
Not giving him a chance to respond or protest, she walked around him and back toward the hotel. Rhys fell into step beside her, but she ignored him as she made her way to the lobby.
She punched angrily at the elevator button, impatient when it didn’t immediately respond. Rhys quietly took her hand and held it close to his body while they waited for the doors to open.
He couldn’t know how much it hurt her to be this close, to feel him touch her so lovingly. If he did, surely he wouldn’t do it.
He ushered her into the elevator, Logan crowding in behind them. She backed away as he closed in on her. His hands cupped her shoulders, and he kissed her deeply, hungrily.
“Do you remember, baby?” he asked huskily. “Remember when the elevator broke down in our old apartment?”
Fire bloomed in her cheeks. Oh yes, she remembered. Logan and Rhys had been insatiable. They’d taken her on the floor, against the doors, one holding her while the other fucked her in long delicious strokes. Then they held her between them, one fucking her ass while the other fucked her pussy. By the time the elevator was up and running again, she’d been thoroughly exhausted, and Logan had carried her back to the apartment.
“I remember,” she whispered.
The elevator doors opened, and Logan reluctantly stepped away. He reached back for her hand as Rhys curled his fingers around her other. They pulled her toward their suite, and she followed, her heart lodged painfully in her throat.
Cooler air hit her, sending a shiver down her aching spine. Rhys turned and took her into his arms, his hands sliding up and down her back.
“What do you want, Cat? Tell me. I’ll do anything for you.”
“A long soaking bath,” she mumbled against his chest. “You need to shave.”
He chuckled. “Let me take care of you. I’ll go draw you a bath and while you soak, I’ll shave, and we’ll talk. We used to do that a lot.”
“Yeah, we did,” she said with a smile.
“I’m going to hit the shower,” Logan said. “I imagine we’ll all feel better and calmer after a bath.” He eyed her pointedly as he made his statement as though her hysteria could be blamed on the need for a bath. She almost laughed.
“Sit here,” Rhys said as he eased her down on the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
With a sigh, she let him put her where he wanted and watched as he hurried to the bathroom. She slipped her flip-flops off and flexed her toes. She was tired. Weary to her bones. Just when she had her mind made up about the direction she wanted her life to take, Rhys and Logan stormed in and turned everything around.
She couldn’t let them change her mind. Not when she’d finally grown a spine and decided to stop being the martyr in the relationship. On the other hand, was she being fair? How could she expect them to change, to make her happy, if she didn’t tell them what she wanted, needed, and give them the chance to react?
A dull ache began at her temples. About the time she thought she’d taken a proactive stance, she realized that she’d reacted like a twit. Reactionary. Instead of standing up, fighting back and saying no, it’s not okay for you to ditch me again, she’d stomped off like a sulky child.
Rhys returned and reached down for her hand. At first he just stroked it lightly with his fingertips, reawakening her to the pleasure she always found in his touch. She’d often told him that his fingers were the sweetest kind of magic.
Gently, he took her hand in his and pulled upward until she stood in front of him. Wordlessly, he undressed her, his palms and the pads of his fingertips brushing over her skin.
“Come,” he said in a husky voice. “I’ve got your bath ready.”
She followed him into the bathroom and gasped in surprise when she saw the beautiful arrangement he’d made. The tub was full of sudsy water, and lining the sides were scented, lit candles. Interspersed between the candles were red rose petals from the bouquet on the counter.
He kissed her once, lingeringly, before helping her over the side of the tub. She settled into the hot water with a blissful sigh. Oh, she needed this. Needed it badly.
She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the rim of the tub. The sound of the shower being turned on registered, and she heard Rhys get in.
A few minutes. It was all she needed. Just a few minutes to rest and relax.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Sleeping in the tub isn’t a good idea, baby.”
Catherine’s eyes fluttered open to see Logan sitting on the edge of the tub at her feet, studying her. She glanced over to where Rhys was shaving by the sink, his face still half-covered with shaving cream.
“I’m tired,” she admitted.
She knew she had her pregnancy to blame for some of her fatigue. Honestly, there were days she couldn’t even hold her head up, but she hadn’t slept well at all since she’d left New York to come on vacation alone.
Logan’s expression softened. “I think we could all use some rest. I know I’d sleep a lot better with you cuddled between us. What do you say we take a nap, order in some room service and spend the day together.”
She was tempted. God, it sounded like heaven. Her indecision and temptation must have shone on her face because both men honed in.
“I’ll give you a foot rub,” Rhys said. “Logan can brush your hair. You always loved that.”
Tears pricked her eyelids. It had been so long since they’d taken care of her. She missed them so much it was a physical ache. She longed for those much simpler days when they didn’t have anything more than each other.
“We were supposed to talk,” she said firmly.
“And we will,” Logan interjected. “I can’t think of a better way to spend the day. In bed, with you, talking.”
“No sex?” she said with a raised eyebrow.
Logan uttered a soft hmmmph.
“No sex,” Rhys said, and Logan shot him the evil eye.
She suppressed her smile and languidly began washing her body, raising one leg to run the cloth down then lowering it before raising the other.
Two sets of male eyes w
ere glued to the motion of the cloth, and unable to resist teasing them a bit, she lifted her arm, making her breasts bob above the waterline. Carefully, she ran the cloth down the length of her arm and then over the taut tips of her breasts.
Logan’s breath released in a hiss, and he changed his position on the tub’s edge. His erection couldn’t be disguised, however.
Feeling only a little guilty for inspiring lust she had no intention of sating, she tossed the washcloth aside and started to rise.
Logan reached for her hand, and after a brief moment of hesitation, she wrapped her fingers around his and let him pull her to stand in the tub.
Water and soapy bubbles cascaded down her body, and she hurriedly stepped out to wrap herself in the towel Rhys held. She let herself be enveloped, not only by the warmth of the towel, but by the heat of his embrace as he gathered her tightly to him.
“What would you like to eat?” Logan asked. “I noticed you didn’t eat breakfast.”
She shook her head. “Nothing yet. I’ll wait and eat lunch with you and Rhys.”
She tucked the end of the towel between her breasts and walked out of the bathroom, leaving the men to follow. The lushness of the bed called to her. Unable to resist, she shed the towel, crawled into the middle and collapsed facedown into the pillow.
Tired. She was so tired.
The bed dipped beside her, and gentle fingers tugged at her chin. “Sit up, baby, and I’ll brush your hair.”
She struggled to her knees, but her breast glanced over Logan’s fingers. She nearly moaned when he tugged at one stiff nipple. He scooted against the headboard then turned her until her bottom was nestled between his thighs.
Rhys sat down at the end of the bed and cupped one of her feet in his palms. As Logan gathered the long strands of her hair, Rhys began massaging her instep. She sighed deeply as the men showered her with love and affection. She soaked it up like a rain-starved desert would a drop of water.
For several long minutes, they tended her, the only sounds being her sighs of pleasure. When she was nearly asleep sitting up, Logan leaned down and kissed the curve of her neck. A delicate shiver cascaded down her spine.