Just Right!

by DawnMarie Richards

As if he’d been waiting for the invitation, he grasped her hand and tugged her to the right.

  “In here.”

  He opened the door and then, smirking like an adolescent having been caught with his collection of porn, pulled her behind him into pitch darkness. Christa’s imagination went wild. The Baers obviously embraced an alternative lifestyle, and she couldn’t help wondering if she was about to discover just how far out on the fringe they lived.

  She flinched at the snap of the light switch, but then gasped with delight at what met her eyes. A built-in bookcase spanned the far wall. Its shelves burgeoned not only with books, but cameras and lenses and a variety of leather cases. Plastic gallon jugs, colorful trays, and curious apparatus covered every horizontal surface. And overhead, from yards of clothesline crisscrossing the room in an intricate pattern, hung dozens of photographs.

  In awe, Christa wandered closer. Reaching up, she gingerly put her fingertip to one corner after another, turning the images toward her. Rolling green hills dotted with wildflowers. A stand of towering pines soared into the sky. Black and white studies of summer fields, hyper-pigmented impressions of a snowy mountainside. Even with untrained eyes, she could see Tate liked to experiment. Push the envelope, flirt with failure.

  She sensed him behind her, could feel his breath skimming the hair at the crown of her head.

  “The series in the guest room,” she asked, her voice husky, “Is it yours?”

  “Yes,” he told her simply, winding his arms around her waist.

  “They’re beautiful.”

  “Thank you.”

  Two little words, spoken close to her ear, raised goosebumps over her skin. She shivered, and he cinched her tight, nudging aside the terrycloth collar of her robe with his lips to find the spot where neck met shoulder. His kisses made her groan and wriggle in his grasp, a fervor building between her thighs. In the small of her back, his erection grew insistent. And then he nipped at the sensitive skin, making her gasp, a frantic urge overwhelming her.

  “Please.” She hoped he couldn’t hear the desperation in her voice. “Tate, please.”

  “Please what, Goldie?” he murmured against her. “What do you want?”

  What did she want? At the moment she couldn’t think beyond being bent over one of the long black topped tables. The hem of her robe pushed up to her waist. And for Tate—a man whose name she’d learned less than an hour ago—to be buried deep inside her. With a whimper, she shook her head.

  “No?” Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her to face him. “That’s all right. We don’t mind waiting.”

  “W-w-waiting for what?”

  “For you to be ready.” He leaned forward, whispering in her ear, “To beg for it.”

  She had to grab onto him when his words registered in her sex-starved brain.

  “My turn.”

  Felix’s declaration—spoken from the loft—had the effect of throwing cold water on the charged situation.

  “Sonofabitch,” Tate muttered, dropped his forehead to her shoulder and rubbing at her upper arms. “Probably for the best.” He chuckled. “Don’t know what it is about you, Goldie. From the first moment we laid eyes on you, you’ve been a challenge to our self-control.”

  Stunned by the outrageous assertion, Christa stood silent as Tate entwined his fingers with hers, and then followed meekly as he led her from the room.

  They found Felix reclining on the sofa in the lounge.

  “Should have known…”

  “Known what?” Tate drawled, pulling Christa to his side when Felix got to his feet.

  The curiously possessive gesture made her wonder if the sibling rivalry she’d been bracing for was about to rear its ugly head.

  “You’d spend your time together in there.” He indicated the darkroom with a nod of his head before stepping closer to Christa and forcing her to look up to see into his face. “Did he even bother to show you his bedroom?”

  “No,” Christa admitted, glancing at Tate sheepishly. “Not really.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Felix took her face in his hands. “Then, again, his work is infinitely more seductive.” He leaned closer. “Don’t you agree?”

  Before she could respond, Felix kissed her. Christa intensely aware the hands on her body did not go with the ones on her face, or the lips moving over hers. But instead of feeling awkward, an urgent need began to burn—white hot—inside her.

  And then it was over, Felix lifting his head as Tate slid his hands from her hips. Flashing a quick smile, he stepped away and then turned and trotted down the stairs.

  “Sorry,” Felix offered just above a whisper. “I’m afraid my brother’s not one for long goodbyes.”

  “I heard that!” Tate called from below them.

  “You were meant to,” Felix countered, rolling his eyes before returning his gaze to hers. “How are you?”

  Too bewildered to conceal her true feelings, she admitted, “I don’t know.”

  He gave a quiet chuckle.

  “Fair enough.” He nodded, allowing his hands to fall away from her face before twining his fingers with hers. “Two Baers down. One to go.”

  Chapter Six

  Unlike his brothers, Felix kept Christa close. As they traveled down the stairs, his arm wound around her waist, fingers splayed possessively over her hip. She had to admit she appreciated the extra support. The experience in the loft had shaken her. Being the focus of two men’s attention had provoked both anxiety and excitement. And, most unnerving of all, a budding desire for more.

  Lost in thought, it took a second for Christa to realize they’d stopped moving. She looked up at Felix, the buzzing in her ears giving way to words.

  “…post and beam construction throughout. Fieldstone was an exceptional find.” He drew the toe of his boot over the floor. “Discovered it at a local quarry and had enough for the entryway as well as the fireplace.”

  “Wait a minute.” She turned to him, touching her fingertips to the center of his chest. “Are you telling me you built this?”

  He glanced down before returning his gaze to hers.

  “Designed,” he corrected. “Had a crew for the actual construction.”

  “Oh … I…”

  “You’re fine.” He gave her a little squeeze. “I’m an architect.” She got the distinct feeling he’d said the exact same words to her in the very recent past. “Log cabins a specialty.”

  “Wow.” She appraised the space with renewed interest. “You’re very talented.”

  “Thank you.” He grinned. “I’m especially proud of this one.”

  “Because it’s your home,” she surmised.

  “In part,” he allowed as he guided her into the great room. “But also because of that.”

  He turned, inviting her to look with a tip of his chin.

  Like the dining room, the great room boasted a trio of floor-to-ceiling windows. But the view was even more spectacular. Beyond the cantilevered deck, a silver sky gave way to a tree-dotted mountainside. The snow-frosted forest sparked in the sunlight.

  Enchanted, she murmured, “It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes. Beautiful.” Curious about his tone, Christa glanced at him, but averted her gaze when she found him staring. “We spend a lot of time here. It’s a great spot to relax, read, enjoy the fire.”

  She nodded as she looked around, taking in the overstuffed sectional and pair of high-backed chairs. Logs snapped and sputtered in the hearth. It did look like the perfect place to curl up with a cup of tea and good book. Or, perhaps, get naked and wile away a snowy afternoon with three sexy brothers.

  “No TV?” she blurted.

  “Not up here.”

  “Up here?”

  “Yeah, there’s a media room on the lower level, as well as a gym … and my office.”

  “My goodness,” she gushed. “The three of you have everything you could ever need.”

  A brooding darkness passed behind Felix’s eyes, but dissipated so quickly,
Christa questioned whether she’d actually seen it. And then he was slipping his hand into hers, leading her toward a doorway to the left of the fireplace. With a sweep of his arm, he indicated Christa should precede him. She did so, but stopped short just inside the entry.

  In stark contrast to the simple comfort of Asher’s room and the frenetic energy of Tate’s loft, Felix’s bedroom was a surprising celebration of sensuality. The space was as imposing as its primary occupant. But the small corner hearth which shared the fire from the great room cast a dreamlike glow, softening the impact of the massive furnishings and bold colors. Christa wandered toward the four-poster bed. As she trailed her finger over the butterscotch comforter—mostly hidden beneath an array of coordinating pillows in every shape and size imaginable—an indecent vision invaded her mind. Her at the center of the bedding, stripped bare and spread eagle, arms and legs tethered to the spiraling posts. Three towering men surrounded her, their hands roaming freely over her skin.

  Stunned, Christa recoiled, slowly backing away from the object that had triggered such a vivid fantasy. What was it with her imagination? Just then, her skull hit Felix’s chest with a quiet thump.

  “Steady,” he cautioned her, gripping her by the shoulders. “You all right?”

  “F-f-fine.”

  “You sure about that?”

  Lowering his head, he pressed a soft kiss to the exact spot behind her ear which had a direct line to the nerves in her knees.

  “Not at all,” she admitted, sinking back against him and closing her eyes.

  She clutched at his thighs as he nuzzled, tilting her head to grant him better access. He smiled against her. Hands splayed over her belly, he pulled her tight.

  “Damn, little one,” he muttered, his cock growing hard in the small of her back. “You’re making me think I might not want to share.”

  Before she could even begin to unpack the loaded statement, Felix straightened. Prodding her toward the opposite side of the room, he positioned her in front of the set of French doors which led out onto the deck. Almost immediately, she became distracted by movement in her peripheral vision.

  Asher and Tate walked toward them, their arms full. Tate tossed the towels he carried onto one of six lounge chairs arranged in a semi-circle facing the mountains. Asher set a tray with four steaming mugs down on a cedar coffee table. Then the men stepped to either side of a small rise in the decking and bent over. As they lifted a thick leather pad, Christa finally understood.

  A hot tub recessed into the deck. As Tate hefted the cover onto his shoulder and lugged it out of view, Asher went down on one knee. She couldn’t see what he was doing, but a few seconds later steam plumed up behind him. Tate returned and Asher stood, the two turning toward the house and presenting her with identical grins. And then, in unison, they pulled their shirts over their heads.

  “Oh!”

  Long, broad limbs and torsos were bared to her, followed by trim hips and muscled thighs and calves, her eyes growing wide at the sheer volume of skin. They were all planes and hard angles. Dark hair covered their chests, arrowing downward before fanning out and framing their ample lengths. Without thinking, she ran her tongue over suddenly dry lips, transfixed by the sight of a quartet of finely-honed glutes as the brothers followed one another down into the hot tub.

  Christa swallowed convulsively as they disappeared into the steam. Only then did she turn to Felix, who studied her with great interest.

  “Tell me something.”

  “Anything.”

  “If I go out there.” She glanced out the window. “With the three of you … what exactly do you plan to do with me?”

  He remained stoic, though she thought she saw a fleeting uptick at the corner of his lips.

  “There is no plan,” he insisted. “If you want to sit and soak, we sit and soak. You want to kiss? We’ll kiss away the afternoon.”

  “And if I want to leave?”

  His gaze went to a spot just over her head before reconnecting with hers.

  “We take you home.” He curled his fingers around her shoulders. “But, Christa…” A touch of urgency underscored his tone. “The four of us finding each other … it feels a hell of a lot like fate.”

  “Fate?”

  “Yes.” He nodded. “One of the things you told us last night was how you’ve always wanted more. That one man has never felt like enough.”

  “I was drunk—” Christa stopped herself as Felix’s gaze hardened.

  “What does that matter? Is it true?”

  She sucked in a shaky breath. Of course it was true. But what good could possibly come from admitting such a thing to three strangers? Three strangers apparently ready, willing, and eager to make what she’d always thought of as fantasy a reality.

  “Christa?” he called to her. “Is it true?”

  She couldn’t help but respond to his stern tone.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, it’s true.”

  He relaxed his hold on her, his expression softening.

  “I might have noticed you first, but once I pointed you out to Asher and Tate, none of us could keep our eyes off of you. We’ve wanted you from the moment we saw you trying to fend off those four asshats trying to come on to you at Walden’s.” His lips curled in a sly smile. “You could hardly put a sentence together, but you were still doing a fine job of putting them in their place.”

  “But I thought you got rid of them for me.”

  “We ended it quickly, but you would have gotten there eventually.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know it.” He slid his hands down her back. “But there was no way in hell we were letting you get away without at least learning your name.” He cupped her ass, molding her to him. “And then you gave us so much more.”

  “Right,” she muttered dryly. “A sloppy striptease followed by unconsciousness.”

  “Stop.” His sternness had the strangest effect on her, making her knees weak and her lips quiver. “Your striptease was anything but sloppy. And you’ll never know what it cost us to put you in the guest room—” He closed his eyes briefly, the space between his brows pulled tight with emotion. “—instead of bringing you in here.”

  “I’m sorry,” she heard herself whisper.

  He shook his head slowly.

  “There’s no need for you to be sorry. That was yesterday. But, today…” He leaned in, his voice rumbling low in her ear. “Today is entirely up to you.”

  When he pulled back, devilish temptation sparked in his eyes. Christa inhaled sharply, her lungs filling with his scent. Male and primitive and utterly irresistible, it sent her pulse into overdrive, her brain flooding with oxygen and hormones. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clutching great handfuls of his hair and pulling him roughly toward her.

  He indulged her at first, letting her control the kiss. But when she tried to breach his lips with her tongue, he thwarted the attempt, catching her wrists in his hands and tucking her arms between them. He smoothed her to him, fixing her in place by spreading his fingers wide behind her head and in the small of her back. She wriggled in protest, but he only tightened the embrace. His breath tickled over her cheek as he teased his mouth over hers. Soon, everything inside her cried out for release. To be flung wide, opened to whatever whims or mercy he might choose to provide. She whimpered her frustration, but it only made him smile.

  When he lifted his head, her panting heated the scant space between their lips.

  “What do you think?” he questioned. “Is it time we join my brothers?”

  Chapter Seven

  Christa thought she might cry when Felix released her. But as soon as he’d stepped away, he stripped off his sweater and jeans, tossing both onto the bed behind him. Somewhere in her fevered brain it registered that none of the Baers bothered with underwear. Perhaps they believed burying such masculine perfection beneath more layers than absolutely necessary was an inexcusable offense. She couldn’t say she disagreed.

  F
elix held out his hand. And, for better or worse, Christa took it. Wearing nothing but an impish grin, he led her out into the cold. She rocked from one foot to the other as she waited for him to close the French door behind them, marveling at his apparent ease in the freezing air. Perhaps he and his brothers had a bit of bear in them after all.

  He sidled up next to her and pulled her close to his heat before guiding her toward the hot tub, Asher and Tate standing as she and Felix approached. And in the brief moment before a cloud of steam obscured their lower halves, Christa had a clear view of two of the most spectacular cocks she’d ever seen.

  Wanting them in the abstract had been one thing, but faced with the reality of three self-possessed, virile men was quite another. What did she have to offer besides a basket full of regrets and insecurities?

  She hesitated.

  Felix stepped close behind her.

  “Just sit and soak,” he muttered low in her ear. “We promise.”

  Looking down, Christa saw his fingers winding the knot in the belt at her waist.

  “May I?”

  Heart pounding, she nodded. He wasted no time, loosening the tie and then slipping the robe off her shoulders. Asher and Tate did not hide their interest, boldly traveling their gazes over her from head to toe, and back again.

  “Can I just say, Goldie, your ex is a fucking idiot?”

  With a dismissive giggle, she wrapped her arms over her chest, rubbing at her rapidly cooling skin.

  “Freezing,” she muttered.

  “Well, we can’t have that.”

  Felix curved his hands around her waist and urged her forward, Asher and Tate reaching out to grasp her by wrists and elbows. The three worked together, steadying her as she stepped down into the water and steam.

  “I’m okay,” she assured them as soon as her feet touched bottom.

  But the brothers refused to let her go, guiding her across the waist deep water to the opposite side. Only then did they release her.

  Turning, Christa slipped beneath the froth, her body conforming to the acrylic seat. Lips pressed tight against the bubbles rising over her chin, she watched the men settle around her, Asher on one side, Tate on the other, and Felix directly across.