by Mel Teshco
She gulped back a mouthful of her beer, barely tasting its yeasty coldness. Adam and Brandon were chalk and cheese, and yet she was attracted to each of them in different ways. Little wonder. Her body was as highly-strung as a wild brumby’s, and it would take more than one set of capable hands to rein her in.
She sucked in a startled breath. What the hell was she thinking? Surely she wasn’t that sex-starved?
‘You okay?’ Adam drawled with a half-smile.
She nodded. ‘Fine, thank you.’
Liar!
Her stare collided with Brandon’s dark eyes and something within melted a little. He was her security and her refuge, and she was certain he’d be that and a whole lot more inside the bedroom. Adam, on the other hand, probably had half a dozen women tucked away in every township the rodeo took him. His experience alone meant he’d know exactly how to please.
Adam took a swig of his beer, though he too seemed to be watching her every move. ‘Brandon told me the station cook is out with the stockmen.’
‘Yes.’ She sighed. ‘Cooking isn’t my strong point, so I hope you’re not expecting your first night to be something memorable.’
Brandon winked and nodded. ‘Unless “memorable” includes burnt toast and cold baked beans.’
Clarissa shook her head. ‘You’ll never let me live that one down!’
Brandon grinned. ‘Not for as long as I draw breath.’
Adam set the bottle onto the countertop. ‘Hey, I won a shitload of cash, why don’t we eat out tonight? My treat.’
Clarissa frowned. She could only imagine what the publican, Lucky, would say when she saw her walk in for dinner with these two men as escorts. Holy smokes, she mightn’t ever look Lucky in the eye again, not with the wicked thoughts that had been going through her head. And the publican always had been too good at reading her mind.
Lucky wasn’t just her confidante, she’d become her friend too. Clarissa saw beneath the publican’s tough brashness to the gentle soul beneath, in just the same way Lucky had seen how much Clarissa and Dean had drifted apart before his accident.
Brandon grinned at his friend. ‘You know me, mate, I won’t ever say no to a free meal. Especially if you’re buying.’
When two sets of eyes met hers, there was no way she was going to disagree. ‘Sure. Why not.’ She placed her beer down. ‘I’ll drive.’
Brandon put his half-empty bottle beside hers. ‘No way.’ He sent his friend a knowing glance before facing her again. ‘It’s your turn to relax tonight. If Adam’s buying, I’m driving.’
Damn it was nice not to be the one giving orders. Ignoring the curl of need deep inside her womb, she nodded. ‘Fine. Just give me ten minutes to shower and change.’
Adam’s smile was lazily amused. ‘Let us know if you need a hand.’
The goosebumps that cascaded over her body weren’t from dread. She wanted to be the woman demanding they did exactly that. Instead she was the woman running upstairs and into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She was the woman stepping under freezing cold needles of water to get her overheated body under some semblance of control.
***
Clarissa barely noticed the wide sweep of the Royal’s wraparound verandah, or how uniformly the half-dozen utes and four-wheel-drives were parked in front of it. She was too busy floating on air as she stepped through the sliding glass door and inside the Royal Hotel, Brandon on one side of her and Adam on the other.
She pulled in a steadying breath, wondering not for the hundredth time if she’d ever felt so sexy and beautiful. Certainly when the two men had spied her platinum-blonde hair worn loose to her shoulders and dressed in a flaxen-coloured dress that hugged her curves and accentuated her breasts, their whistles of approval had boosted her confidence way past normal.
Even without the three-inch heels of her thigh-high boots, and between two men who stood head and shoulders taller than most of the men in Milpinyani, she felt ten feet tall and as though she was walking on air.
Lucky’s dark eyebrows arched over her sapphire eyes, her usual efficiency behind the bar for once on hold as she stared at the trio entering her pub.
Brandon nodded at the publican and murmured smoothly, ‘Lucky.’
It appeared to drag Lucky from her trance when she said, ‘Brandon,’ in return, before asking, ‘What are you having?’
Brandon smiled. ‘A beer for my friend Adam.’ He turned to Clarissa. ‘And for our dinner date tonight, I was thinking of something sparkling and sweet.’
Our dinner date?
Clarissa inwardly reeled. Brandon had all but publicly announced she was something more than the woman who signed his pay cheque every fortnight. A woman who evidently hadn’t stopped at one gorgeous man. It was damn lucky the hotel had very few patrons tonight after a full-on rodeo weekend.
Still, Lucky’s eyes popped wide open, before she visibly pulled herself back to together with a twitch of her lips. ‘Great choice. And what about for yourself?’
‘A Coke will be fine. I’m driving.’
The publican nodded, her lips curling into a real smile when she said, ‘Such a responsible, dependable man. I always say you’ll make a fine husband one day.’
Clarissa smothered a sigh. Lucky liked to harp on about all the lip-smacking testosterone on her station going to waste. And now with Brandon’s ‘dinner date’ comment, she was certain Lucky would go on ten times harder.
Adam nodded at Lucky as she handed him a frothing beer. ‘Ma’am.’
Lucky eyed the man with something between distrust and sharp interest. ‘Fuck me, a real-life gentleman. I don’t believe we’ve met.’
‘Then you’d probably be right,’ Adam said easily.
Clarissa added, ‘Unless you love the rodeo.’
Sincere curiosity lit up Lucky’s stare, highlighting the glossy brown of her hair pulled back into its usual ponytail. ‘Who doesn’t love the rodeo? Best time of the year.’ She gave Adam a suggestive wink as she pulled a pot of beer.
The local copper sitting further along the bar sent them a dirty look.
Interesting. Was there something Lucky wasn’t telling her? Come to think of it, the publican had a special glow about her tonight, a just-fucked look that Clarissa was especially attuned to right then.
Adam chuckled, drawing Clarissa’s attention back to him. The bull rider gave Lucky a lazy shrug. ‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
Lucky turned to her huge glass-fronted fridge and selected a bottle of champagne, answering over her shoulder, ‘Huh. I doubt you’d take it any other way.’
If anything, Adam looked amused. ‘Guilty on all counts.’
Pouring the champagne into a flute, and using the Coke-on-tap to fill a glass, Lucky put their drinks onto the runner of a polished wooden bar and asked Adam, ‘I’m guessing you’re the hot-shot bull rider who won the purse?’
Adam’s smile widened. ‘I guess word travels fast.’
She shrugged. ‘And I guess you probably don’t stick around long enough to hear small town gossip.’
‘That looks to change now.’ He winked. ‘I’m here to fix whatever Clarissa needs fixing.’
Clarissa smoothed her hair back with an unsteady hand, astute enough to know exactly how her friend would interpret Adam’s response.
As predicted, Lucky smirked. ‘And I reckon you’re just the man for the job.’ The publican glanced toward Brandon. She cleared her throat and said decisively, ‘Correction. Men for the job.’
The men didn’t deny or even add anything further to the discussion and Clarissa inwardly fluctuated between outrage and a growing hunger that was wholly unrelated to food. Brandon paid for their drinks and the three of them moved away from the bar’s constant activity and noise, and into the quiet of the dining room.
She couldn’t help but smile and relax a little when both men pulled out a different chair for her at a small, intimate table, where a large pot plant shielded them from two other couples who were already eat
ing.
‘This one,’ she quipped, helping herself to the only other seat the men hadn’t offered her.
As the men took their own chairs, she took a big sip of her champagne, the bubbles tickling her nose and filling her with even more warmth.
‘So what’s the grub like here?’ asked Adam.
Clarissa handed him a menu from the middle of the table. ‘It’s good, wholesome food. I already know what I want.’
Lucky wouldn’t even need to write down her order. Clarissa had been a regular at the hotel for many years and loved the beef and lamb lasagne with steak fries and coleslaw. She only hoped Casey, the station cook who Lucky had procured for the rodeo weekend, was still cooking in the hotel’s kitchen. She’d heard nothing but good things about Casey’s skills.
Adam winked. ‘I think it’s a safe bet to say Brandon and I already know what we want too, and food isn’t at the top of the list.’
Her mouth dropped open, and Brandon took the opportunity to lean close and cup her head, turning her face his way before his mouth settled over her lips for a lingering kiss that made no demands. She didn’t pull back or protest. Instead her lips softened beneath his on a sigh before she drew in his honeyed-sweet scent, his vague taste of beer and Coke.
She was dazed when he drew back, his eyes searching hers. ‘Adam’s right,’ he said huskily. ‘Food is the last thing on our minds. It’s been the last thing on my mind since the first time I saw you.’
‘Really?’ she breathed, still reeling from the kiss. ‘I had … no idea.’
She’d been too busy feeling like a failure in her marriage. Though she and Dean had tried their best, in the end they’d both conceded they were little more than friends with fringe benefits—though even the spark in their bedroom had died long before the accident had taken Dean’s life.
Adam watched with unabashed interest as Brandon nodded and said huskily, ‘But you were happily married—’ Heat rose behind her eyelids. If only Brandon had known the truth. ‘—and then you were a grieving widow.’
She blinked and swallowed back grim reality even as she pressed her fingertips to her still tingling mouth. She’d been grieving for a friend far more than a husband. Grieving for what should have been.
‘And I didn’t think you were ready to move on.’ Brandon swung a quick look Adam’s way. ‘It took another man to make me realise I was wrong … very, very wrong.’
Something shifted inside her chest. Brandon had respected her marriage and then her need to mourn. She couldn’t help but admire him even more for his values. And yet … sometimes a woman didn’t want a man to be so giving. Sometimes a woman needed a man to take.
Adam would take. And take.
The bull rider slung an arm around the back of her chair and leant a little closer, his crisp and musky aftershave causing her to draw in a deeper breath. His voice murmured in her ear. ‘You all but vibrate with desire and need.’
She gulped. ‘I do?’
He leant in even closer. ‘Yes. It’s most … fascinating.’
‘Are we ready to order or should I come back in five?’
Clarissa jumped at Lucky’s voice. The publican had an all-knowing grin from ear to ear. Clarissa cleared her throat. ‘Ah no. We’re good to order thanks.’ She looked at the men for confirmation. ‘Aren’t we?’
Brandon nodded. ‘I’ll have what Clarissa’s having.’
Adam’s eyes twinkled. ‘Me too.’
Lucky smirked. She knew exactly what Clarissa wanted, and it wasn’t written inside the plastic pages of the menu. ‘Like to share everything, do we?’
Adam shrugged. Brandon smiled a secret smile. Clarissa was beyond the point of feeling any shame. She was too impatient to hear more of the men’s past. The moment Lucky was out of earshot, she asked the men, ‘You’ve both shared women?’
Brandon released a slow breath. ‘Yes.’
Adam’s eyes turned heavy-lidded. ‘Does that bother you?’
Bother her? Only if feeling hot and bothered was any indication. She fidgeted in her seat. All she could imagine right then was their callused hands trekking over her soft skin, exploring every dip and curve while they used their mouths to pleasure and to tease.
She swallowed hard. ‘No, it doesn’t.’ How could it when she’d already fantasised that exact scenario for herself? ‘Whatever your pasts, it’s none of my business.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Adam asked. His voice dropped, soft and hypnotic. ‘Our past could be your future, if that’s what you want.’
Her breath caught, her pulse fluttering. She turned to Brandon. ‘Is that what you want too?’
His eyes fairly glowed. ‘I’ve only ever wanted to look after you. And if sharing means doubling your pleasure, then yes, that’s what I want too.’
Oh, god.
She wanted to fan herself, drip ice down her front and back. The temperature had surely gone up ten degrees in the last few minutes alone?
Adam put his big, warm hand on her thigh, beneath the hem of her dress. ‘We’ll take it nice and slow. Make sure you’re fully prepared.’
Fuck. She was about ready to cream herself and they thought she wanted it slow? Or maybe her hormones were so out of whack from not having sex for so long—correction, from never having experienced great sex—she had no idea how to play things out on an even keel.
Her voice cracked. ‘Prepared?’
Adam’s palm skated up her thigh and then down a little to the tops of her boots, his roughened skin making her gasp as tingles of electricity fired through her body. His voice tickled her ear. ‘Yes. For the both of us. The way I see it, you’re going to combust if you stave off your needs any longer.’
Her thighs slipped apart a little and she had to suppress a moan. ‘What is it you suggest?’
Adam’s voice lowered and his hand inched higher. ‘I suggest we go home so we can fully take care of you.’ His fingertips skimmed the edges of her lacy underwear. ‘I suggest Brandon and I pleasure you until you’re gasping for breath, then screaming out our names.’
She gulped, and twisted back to Brandon. Even seated, somehow she couldn’t fail to notice the erection in his jeans, nor the need in stark evidence across his face.
Dinner was the last thing on any of their minds.
Her voice came out scratchy. ‘I think … yes. Let’s go home.’
Adam pulled out a couple of big notes for payment and left them under the salt shaker. ‘Good call.’
The trip back to the homestead seemed to take hours instead of the usual forty-five minutes, and though Brandon wasn’t breaking any land speed records, he pushed the old work ute faster than its normal sedate pace.
Pressed between them once again, Clarissa vacillated between stiff awkwardness and pliant, hot need. Her heart beat an irregular rhythm that seemed to echo the fluttery sensation in her belly, and she found herself constantly licking her dry lips.
The sweep of the headlights revealed a thin blue ribbon of highway she barely saw. Thanks to the dash lights and her peripheral vision, she noted every movement, every breath, Brandon and Adam made.
God help her, had she ever been more aware of anyone in her life?
A white post and rail entry to the right indicated Langdown station. Brandon turned into the long, compressed granite driveway, and as the ute shuddered across the cattle grid, Clarissa took a steadying breath even as her hands fisted on her lap.
Brandon glanced her way. ‘Are you going to be okay?’
She drew in a deep breath. ‘Are you trying to talk me out of it?’
Brandon shook his head, his jaw rigid, his own hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. ‘You know I’ll do everything in my power to give you exactly what you want.’
You. And Adam. All over me.
Adam trailed his fingertips down her arm, goosebumps erupting over her skin. ‘We’ll both do whatever it takes to make you climax again and again.’
She stiffened, even as her panties stuck to her with a
sudden flush of moisture. ‘I’ve never been with more than one man.’
‘At a time?’ Adam asked.
She bit into her bottom lip and shook her head. ‘More than one man … ever.’
Adam’s breath whistled even as Brandon nodded and said, ‘I guessed as much.’ He turned to her, his face taut with passion and stark with sincerity. ‘We’ll treat you right.’
Adam’s touch stilled as if in confirmation. ‘Nothing happens without your consent.’
Clarissa swallowed, and Brandon clasped one of her hands. He didn’t say anything more; he didn’t need to. Instead he lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles, his shadowed stubble rasping across her skin.
Damn. Every look and every touch had her wanting so much more, and she was a mass of quivering nerves and contradictions. Nerves made that much worse when the headlights picked out her homestead with its high verandah and white-railed stairs. Behind the house, a sweeping gum tree concealed four rainwater tanks—all but one was dry—while the darkness inside the stockmen’s quarters revealed they were empty.
She closed her eyes and took a calming breath. There would be no one else around to sidetrack her, no one to keep her from going ahead with the threesome that would have seemed preposterous even a few days ago. Having sex with just one amazingly gorgeous man had seemed almost out of her reach, let alone two.
Brandon parked the ute near the front fence and cut the engine and its lights. A full moon took away much of the gloom. But it was the sudden silence that magnified her need, her pulse a loud swish-swish in her ears, her breath rasping in and out.
One of the station’s kelpies managed a half-hearted bark. Adam released a shuddering sigh, before he slid out of the passenger seat with too much grace for a man so tall, let alone one injured.
Brandon caught her hand before she followed the bull rider. ‘I know you trust me,’ he murmured, ‘but I want you to know you can trust Adam too.’
She nodded, any trace of lingering fear receding as adrenaline poured through her veins. She swung out of the ute on suddenly unsteady legs, and Adam took her arm as she swayed.
‘Too much champagne?’ he teased, shrewd enough to know she wasn’t intoxicated from anything alcoholic.