Spread Your Wings: Men in Blue, Book 4

by Jayne Rylon

  He didn’t waste a second before setting his gun on the sink, after double-checking the safety, then whipping his shirt off. His tan skin, embellished with a three-quarter sleeve tattoo on his right arm, had her entranced. The black and red dragon wrapped around him flexed and danced as he moved.

  Totally understandable. She was pretty sure she’d writhed like that when she’d surrounded him too. The memory of his cock, sliding into her for the first time, was indelibly marked on her soul. What if it was also the last time?

  Did she want it to be?

  Or had she had enough of fabulous one-night-stands to last her a lifetime?

  If she was honest, she knew the answer without a doubt. She needed another taste of these sexy cops. Preferably sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, her brain wouldn’t disengage long enough to permit her to do something so foolish until she ironed out some of the serious wrinkles chafing between them.

  “I guess I’m left waiting for the food?” Matt wrinkled his nose. “I’m starving and I hate cold eggs. But there’s no way I’m touching anything I put in my mouth before I wash this stench-by-association off. Can we hurry it up?”

  “I have a timesaver. Let’s do this all at once. Simulclean. It’s not like we haven’t seen each other naked. Oh, wait…I haven’t actually gotten a good look at you guys.” Jambrea smirked. “I need the tub to keep my bandage dry. But nothing says you two can’t take either end of the shower. I’d like that view better than the skyscape over there anyway.”

  She stared at Matt, daring him to blink first. He did. Then he glanced at Clint from beneath those lush lashes that belied his gruff exterior.

  “It’s not like we haven’t done this a million times at the gym.” Clint shrugged. “It doesn’t have to be weird. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. I’m not going to molest you or anything, asshole.”

  Matt took a second more to consider before he growled as he stripped his tight-fitting black T-shirt from his immense chest. Imagining those muscles sweaty from a strong workout did nothing at all to cool Jambrea down.

  She practically skipped over to the claw-foot tub, then rotated the flashy handles until it began to fill. From a basket hanging on the side, she plucked a glass bottle and cracked it open, taking a sniff. Rosemary and lavender essences delighted her nose.

  Anything would smell better than garbage, to be honest.

  A dollop into the stream of water seeded a fragrant cloud of mist that hung over the area. She bit her lip and looked up in time to see Clint and Matt divesting themselves of their jeans. Unbuttoned, unzipped and uninhibited, they slid their thumbs in their waistbands and shucked the low-rise denim damn near simultaneously. A couple quick flicks and their socks landed in a little pile on the polished floor.

  With their backs to each other, they both turned their heads to the side to focus on her.

  “Your turn, wild thing.” Matt winked at her.

  “Didn’t think that one through, did you?” Clint grinned. “I’m up for an encore performance. I didn’t finish adoring you before you took off last night. Good thing these shower doors are glass.”

  Matt grumbled as he followed his partner into the enormous stall. “Don’t remind me. And don’t go bragging about how up you are. It’s kind of a regular occurrence.”

  “No kidding. At least since we met Jambi.” Clint didn’t bother acknowledging his partner with a glare or even his middle finger, which Jambrea thought kind of a likely response. Instead he kept his gaze locked on her. “I’ve been hard so much I’m afraid I’m going to get stuck this way. Not that I’m complaining. Better than the other way around. Though it does make my uniform pretty uncomfortable. And I’m getting tired of carrying my hat around like a shield over my crotch. The guys don’t need any more material for ragging on me.”

  “No, you give us plenty of that on your own.” Matt flicked on his shower.

  Jambrea swallowed hard as she studied his high, tight ass and tree-trunk thighs when he reached over and adjusted some of the fixtures.

  “Go ahead, wild thing.” Clint smiled at her. “Seriously. You don’t want to miss out on warm breakfast. Although I’d bring it to you in here if you want to soak. You’ve got to be sore.”

  She choked as she gingerly removed her clothes—both to avoid tugging on her arm and to keep from getting any of the rank slime on her hands. At least any more than she had to. When Clint’s concern soaked in, she blushed. “Was it that obvious I haven’t been with anyone in a long time?”

  Matt cursed and dropped his soap.

  “What?” Clint tilted his head. The honest curiosity in his captivating eyes deterred her from devouring the visual banquet before her. Nothing could be more alluring to her than getting them on the same page. Finally.

  Jambrea wiggled her lace panties down her hips, noticing how Clint’s throat flexed and his Adam’s apple bobbed. She dipped a toe in the almost-too-hot water and sighed. Using her good arm, she steadied herself and sank beneath the layer of bubbles forming.

  “Jambi, I think Clint was talking about your swan dive into last week’s lo mein. Or possibly the damage to your arm.” Matt spoke slowly, as if he chose his words carefully. “How long has it been?”

  She scrubbed her hands vigorously with the artisanal soap provided then buried her face in them, breathing deep of the fresh scent. “Oh. Shit. Never mind.”

  “No.” Clint surprised her with his determination. Inflexible wasn’t how she would normally describe him. But he didn’t blink as he hastily scrubbed shampoo into his short hair. Suds tracked down his neck and over his pecs, making her lick her lips, wishing she could have him for breakfast. “Hiding shit hasn’t worked for us so far. And this is important. We could have hurt you.”

  Insulated from them, Jambrea felt like she could stare her fill. The scenery made for a pleasant distraction from the humiliation sure to follow. Tenacious, they’d never leave this alone.

  “Jesus, Jambi.” Matt scoured his abs as if he was trying to wash away some imaginary sin. “I’m not exactly an average guy. Why wouldn’t Lily have warned us?”

  “Because she knew I could handle you both?” She settled into the curved porcelain, allowing it to cradle her, imparting some much-needed comfort while keeping her arm resting on the brim. “Because your overprotectiveness seems to be hurting us all instead of helping?”

  “Maybe.” Clint sighed as he nodded. He rinsed and stepped from the shower without bothering to dry off. Instead, he knelt beside her, taking the soap from her restless fingers. “But you haven’t answered us. When was the last time you were intimate with someone?”

  Matt’s low growl didn’t scare her. Not when she was about to reveal just how special their liaison had been to her. How could he be jealous of a single one-night-stand that happened a decade ago?

  “Almost ten years,” she murmured as she traced the intricate detailing on the lip of the tub with idle flicks of one nail.

  Clint closed his hand around hers gently, drawing it to his lips so he could nibble on her knuckles. “Jambi—”

  “Not so wild now, am I?” She allowed herself to look at him. Into his gaze. It seemed senseless to withhold information at this point. “And honestly, that was a one-time thing. If your hymen could regenerate itself, I’d be a born-again virgin by now.”

  It was bad when he didn’t laugh. Wasn’t it?

  Matt startled her when he knelt beside Clint then rested his hand on her bent knee. He stroked the sensitive skin there with his damp thumb, which glided back and forth lightly. “Who could be crazy enough not to fight for you? For more?”

  “It’s complicated.” She shrugged with her good shoulder. “We were in the military together. He had a…special assignment. I never heard from him again.”

  It surprised her when tears stung her eyes. Would they think she was stupid to cling to the ghost of a temporary lover for so long? Maybe they’d run when they realized how stalkerish she could become.

  They didn’t.<
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  “And you were loyal to him, all that time?” Matt winced. “Sometimes you have to know when to give up on people, Jambi. Or maybe you’ve learned that by now. Is that why you kicked us out after the wedding?”

  “Not that you fucking listened,” she grumbled, but part of her perked up as she recalled their groggy “good mornings” and their tousled hair.

  “We’re not quitting when it comes to us. This.” Clint took over for her, washing her with a tenderness she hadn’t realized him capable of before. He used his hands, not a cloth, lathering them before gliding them over all of her that he could reach.

  About the time his fingers caressed her breasts—which betrayed her with hardened nipples—Matt urged her to scoot forward until he could lay her back. He supported her neck in order to wet her hair. He sat her up as Clint rubbed her more than cleanliness alone could dictate.

  And then Matt massaged her scalp as he worked shampoo into her short locks. “You’re so beautiful.”

  His reverent touches told her more than his words.

  As if Clint could sense her getting overwhelmed with the possibility of something she’d had to write off in order to protect her squishy, emotional center, he cut in, cracking the jokes that made him so easy to be around. “I know I am, thanks.”

  Matt groaned and knocked his shoulder into Clint, nearly toppling his friend. For a minute it was as if they forgot they were naked and nearly pressed full-length against each other. In that instant, all that mattered was her.

  Jambrea couldn’t say she disliked their attention.

  Except right then a rap sounded from the other room, followed by the bellman calling, “Room service.”

  From the pitch of his near-shout, she wondered how many times he’d already announced himself.

  “I’ve got it.” Matt rocketed to his feet, snagging one of the plush robes off the back of the door along with their dirty clothes, which the hotel would launder. “Hurry, though. You really do need to eat.”

  “That’s probably Matt-talk for, ‘Don’t ravish her in the bathtub, fucknugget.’” Clint wiggled his eyebrows at her.

  “Damn straight. Unless you want a code one-eight-seven on your hands.” Matt cinched the belt at his waist the best he could.

  “That means murder,” Clint said in a stage whisper.

  It was impossible to take Matt seriously when the fluffy fabric didn’t remotely cover all his important bits. Well, at least he had nothing to be ashamed of. His bits were intimidating.

  Clint and Jambrea cracked up together at the sight of him stomping into the other room, a towel clutched in the gap between the fuzzy lapels. When their gazes intersected, she quieted, but the smile etched on her face refused to flee.

  For the first time in forever, she thought there might be hope.

  They were teaching her to believe in dreams again.

  That was either the most dangerous thing she could do or the bravest.

  Maybe both.

  Chapter Nine

  Clint tried not to drool on the woman cradled in his arms. To have her pliant, snuggling into him—while aware it was him—ranked high on the list of things he’d craved for a while. Regaining his camaraderie, and maybe evolving it, with Matt was right up there too.

  Could he have both?

  Sure as shit, he planned to try.

  When he leaned over the bed, setting Jambrea in the center of the mountain of pillows, she squirmed a bit. He easily held her in place with a hand on her uninjured shoulder. Just thinking of the wound on the other had him seething and wishing he could kiss it better at the same time. Who had done this to her?

  Matt ambled over with a tray piled high with flat-topped metal plate covers, which hid platters of amazing-smelling grub. He set the bounty beside Jambrea.

  Then he glanced over, practically punching Clint in the gut with his hesitation. When had they become so wary of each other? Always bickering, they fought like an old married couple or a pair of the drunk chicks they arrested from time to time on a bad Saturday night shift.

  It sucked.

  “Let’s fucking eat, okay?” He waved at the food and Jambi, both sitting there in front of him like the best presents he’d ever gotten. Sure to satisfy all his hungers.

  “Yeah.” Matt nodded, though he didn’t climb on the mattress just yet.

  Their indecision spilled over to the wild thing between them. Again. Damn it. She was too sensitive to their discord. It might have been creepy if it didn’t seem so sweet that she was perfectly in step with them. Except she kept misinterpreting the real cause of their friction, applying all their faltering to her involvement when that wasn’t the case at all.

  “Maybe the two of you really should take the bed. I’ll bunk on the couch. I don’t mind.” She raised a brow at them. “Hand me my omelet and I’ll leave you two to enjoy alone.”

  Matt’s mouth opened and closed several times in rapid succession until he resembled Parker when the fish begged for its dinner of tri-colored flakes. If the situation hadn’t been so damn serious, Clint might have busted a gut laughing.

  “Uh, it isn’t like that between us, wild thing.” Clint’s sour face could have come from sucking on one of the lemons garnishing the iced tea in a fancy crystal decanter. He poured her a glass, then handed it over, stealing quick contact with her fingers, supple from the too-short bath.

  “Lily told me you guys made out.” Jambrea seemed as if she didn’t plan to pull her punches ever again. Certainly she wouldn’t let them get away with half-truths. He was cool with that. Direct and no-nonsense, the new her attracted him even more than her shy veil had. All along he’d sensed the fire hiding behind that thin veneer of civility. Finally seeing it unleashed had him hard. Again. And that wasn’t helping his case right now.

  Christ.

  “We didn’t French or anything.” Clint shook his head. Though part of him wished they had, either that night or sometime in the seemingly endless months between then and now. At least then he’d know if the weird feeling their stupid dare had given him had been some kind of turn on, or simply indigestion.

  “You didn’t?” She tilted her head to the side a bit. “Why would Lily lie to me? I trusted her.”

  With that, he couldn’t stay away. He rounded the bed and settled onto the mattress as carefully as he could. When both he and Jambrea propped their shoulders against the headboard, Matt began dishing out plates and silverware. Then he climbed onboard too, rocking them with his bulk, though he sandwiched Jambi as gracefully as possible.

  “It was just a kiss. One little peck.” Matt stepped in to help. “We pissed Lily off. And to make it up to her, she dared us to do it. It was nothing.”

  Did he really mean that? Clint held back a groan. Because it had meant something to him. Got him thinking about possibilities he’d never considered before. Had him wondering what it would be like to share a woman with another guy. How they would end up with incidental junk-touching…and maybe more.

  It seemed odd to think they could explore so much yet stop short. Would they?

  “Is that what you’re going with? Really? From my perspective it looks like it had a pretty big impact.” Their girl pushed her eggs around her plate with her fork. At first she seemed upset. Then she turned cranky in a flash. And she lashed out, for which he didn’t blame her at all. They deserved it. “It made you two fools run away from me. From us. From what we’d shared the night Mason and Tyler busted down my door. I may have hardly any experience but I’m not a moron. What happened that night was special. I’m guessing your nothing kiss was too.”

  “Well, yeah.” Clint paused shoveling hash browns into his mouth long enough to scrub his knuckles over his eyes. “So I think we freaked a little. At least I did. It’s a lot to ask of a guy. You know, to first think he might not have the girl of his dreams to himself like he’d always imagined. And, on top, to learn that maybe he’s not entirely straight. Or at least open to the possibility of some variety. Right?”

 
Matt swallowed hard. Probably not only because orange juice gave him heartburn either. As much as he enjoyed the treat, the dumbass would pay for that later. Clint made a mental note to pick up some antacids from the gift shop in the lobby.

  Neither he nor Jambi let his partner off the hook, though. They waited patiently until he agreed, “Right. And it didn’t feel like we should tangle you up in our mess when we couldn’t seem to get our shit together.”

  “Exactly.” Clint slid a piece of his cinnamon toast onto Jambi’s plate when he noticed how quickly she devoured her own sweet side dish. Anything he could do to care for her, to show her how he felt, he would. From now on. The last twenty-four hours had reminded him how important it was to make the most of each moment. They’d wasted too much time on misunderstandings and misery.

  “So what are you going to do about that?” Jambrea pouted a little. “If you haven’t made any progress, then nothing’s changed. I want you to know I support your self-discovery. I think it’s great if you’re happy with each other. I’m just…”

  Moisture gathered at the corner of her pretty eyes. Clint would rather Matt have kicked him in the ribs than see the evidence of her pain. Which they’d caused.

  “What, wild thing?” Matt wiped away a tear with the pad of his thumb.

  “I’m not sure I can survive being the lubrication that makes it easier for you two to be together, only to be ditched afterward, when you’re strong enough to admit it’s really each other you want.” She blinked a few times, getting herself together, proving again exactly how tough she was. “I care for you both. And, clearly, I’m not the kind of woman who can walk away once my feelings get involved.”

  “Are you trying to tell me they’re not already?” Clint prided himself on his maturity when he didn’t even crack a smile at the Jambi’s lube reference. Maybe because he thought he might weep too if she said she didn’t feel the same way he did—jumbled up inside and sick at the idea that they might never figure this shit out. It’d been hard enough to deal with the fact that Matt didn’t seem like he planned to make their one-time indiscretion a habit.