by Mel Blue
Her convenient husband and her dear friend.
“It is my business.” Remy skimmed his lips up Eve’s neck, which drew moans from her as her body arched against his.
Brent gave her a little pull back by the waist.
Remy loosened his hold on her ponytail then backed away a couple of steps, wearing that damned churlish grin. He picked up his coffee cup and sipped.
“If you were desperate, Eve, you should have asked me to marry you,” he said.
“You?”
Brent tightened his grip around her waist while drawing her backside to him. This was the closest they’d been, really, since the magistrate had given him permission to kiss his bride, and he’d chastely obliged.
“Mm-hmm.” Remy nodded. “I don’t have to be a psychic to know you’re married on paper only. If there were something more, his arm would have been around you before I scandalized that sweet little blouse with my cock.”
Her jaw dropped. This was her friend, for God’s sake. And although she’d always found him deliciously attractive, like every other woman at the hospital, they’d never crossed that line. They’d flirted, sure, but they’d always kept things professional because she was just a resident, and he was tenured: a staff physician. It wouldn’t do to have people wagging their tongues about perceived impropriety. He hadn’t been doing her any damn favors, other than occasionally un-sticking her locker and buying her yogurt in the cafeteria.
“What do you want, Remy?”
“That should be obvious.”
“You want to fuck my wife.” Brent’s tone was less menacing now but still sufficiently hostile.
“Yes,” Remy said blithely. “And you’re going to let me, because you have no idea what you’re doing, isn’t that right, big guy?”
This time when Remy got close and dragged his thumb along Eve’s jaw, Brent didn’t pull her away.
It was as if he didn’t know what she wanted, so he hesitated to take it from her.
“You don’t know how to handle a woman like Eve.” Remy’s tone was light as he slid a finger between Eve’s lips and watched Brent over her head. “She’s a treasure, and you got her for a bargain-basement price, I’m betting.”
He drew his finger out and trailed the tip around the rim of her lips.
Her breathing sped, her sex tightened, and she squirmed now inside Brent’s grasp, not because she wanted out of it, but because the thrill of enduring it was a heady thing.
These two men, squaring off over her? She wouldn’t have thought one man would be so interested, but now apparently two?
“You’ve got to put her on a pedestal,” Remy said.
“I do,” Brent said then sighed. “I…want to.”
“Then we agree on something. Seraphina couldn’t tell me what you needed, but I think it’s clear. I’ve got something you don’t. Without me, you might as well put your coat back on and fly home. Eve’s got the deadbolt on, and you can’t even see the lock. Well, guess what?”
“You have the key,” Brent said drily.
“Good boy. I guess you’ve got a brain in that head.” Remy wrapped his fist around Eve’s ponytail again but didn’t pull so much as tease. He rested his chin on the top of her head.
He and Brent must have been damn near nose-to-nose, seeing as how neither was giving up any ground.
“I know Evie,” Remy said. “You follow my lead, and maybe when you leave here, you’ll have an actual chance. How’s that sound?”
Brent didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to.
He didn’t stop Remy when he eased back and pushed the band of Eve’s long, stretchy skirt past her hips, nor did Brent object when Remy nudged her lace panties down to the floor and had her step out of them.
Brent just kept his hands at her waist and made his presence known without asserting it.
But when Remy nudged her ankles apart and began kissing up her thigh, Brent’s deep voice was in her ear as he whispered, “Do you want this?”
Did she? This was decadent and sinful and selfish…and a once-in-a-lifetime event. Of course she wanted it. She couldn’t think of a thing she wanted more at this moment.
She swallowed and nodded.
“All right.” He withdrew his arms, thus pulling his warmth away from her back.
Where was he going? She didn’t want him to go. It was important he be there, though she didn’t know how.
“Eve, call my phone when you’re done. I—”
She turned and grabbed his wrists to pull him back, and the confusion in his expression broke her heart. She’d married him, not Remy. Brent had been convenient, yes, but if she hadn’t wanted him at least a little bit, she wouldn’t have asked. She had at least a little vanity, after all. “Don’t go,” she whispered, even as Remy gently turned her to face him.
Remy was already priming the engine. He knelt in front of her and rolled her clit beneath his thumb and forefinger. “Take off her shirt,” Remy said to Brent. “And her bra, if she’s wearing one. When you’re done with that, either have a seat and watch, or you can help. You’re a bit overdressed for one of those things.”
Eve could sense Brent’s uncertainty. He didn’t want to leave, but he didn’t want to share.
And she didn’t want his feelings bruised. They were here, after all, to make this marriage work. Remy was just an unexpected tool in that endeavor. The hotel literature promised to cure what ailed them but wasn’t specific as to how that would be done. She decided to trust the process.
“Brent, I’d like you to help,” she whispered, barely able to get the words out as Remy thrust his tongue into her slit.
Remy’s carnal kiss was far too distracting and had her curling her toes against the cold floor. Her body shook as she clenched her hands into fists, but still her mind was half on Brent and not fully on her pleasure. He seemed to be taking far too long to decide. Was far too tentative.
Was he really afraid to touch her, or had she trained him to believe she didn’t want to be touched?
CHAPTER TWO
As he kneeled there with Eve’s leg slung over his shoulder, supping at her slit, Remy hoped Brent would leave. That Brent would make it easy for him.
The other man stood behind his wife, gripping her by the waist and casting murderous glares to Remy whenever he looked up. Judging by the tight set to his jaw, Brent wasn’t happy, but he didn’t know how to negotiate the situation. He’d expected a stranger to mediate their actions, whatever they were, and instead he and Eve had stepped into the room to find someone she obviously knew and cared for.
Best-case scenario for Remy would be that Brent would just walk away, the same way he’d walked away from his education seventeen years ago.
Remy remembered. As if he could forget a man like that. As if he wouldn’t notice when a man that big and that beautiful didn’t return to campus.
He’d recognized Brent weeks ago. Remy had offered to walk Eve to the parking deck after work as always, but she begged off, saying her car was in the shop and that Brent, her new husband, was working on it. He was picking her up.
So Remy had waited with her, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man who’d stolen his friend’s heart.
Brent had pulled up to the front of the hospital in that gas-guzzling sonic boom-emitting pickup truck, and she’d climbed up into the front seat and barely even looked at the man, nor him her. He could have been a strange taxi driver for the way she acted.
She’d waved goodbye to Remy through her closed window, and he suspected then that although Brent had her hand in marriage, her heart remained a matter of question.
Eve was the kind of woman who was capable of falling head over heels in love with someone. She was free with her emotions and affection. Always had been with him, anyway. She’d hug The Grinch if he’d let her get close.
Something was off, and Remy loved her enough to risk their friendship now if he were wrong in trying to prove it.
He didn’t think he was wrong, though, and received no
evidence to the contrary when he fluttered his thumb over her clit and thrust his tongue into her again and again.
He eased his hands around her hips to grab her ass and shift her balance away from the hesitant Brent.
Brent took a step back.
Remy’s exultant feeling was short-lived, because when he stole a glance away from Eve’s smooth pussy, he found Brent stripping off his long-sleeved T-shirt and undershirt.
Brent laid them atop the dresser along with his heavy wristwatch while keeping his gaze locked on Remy.
Remy understood his brooding expression very well. He’d seen it enough times before from other men when he was too kind to their wives or girlfriends. It was the same warning look lions gave foolish men who walked too close to their prides.
Maybe Remy had misjudged him, because the hard set to Brent’s jaw and the angry narrowing of his brown eyes indicated that he was a man who actually gave a shit about what his wife thought. He wasn’t just going through the motions. He wanted her but was afraid to take her.
He was dancing on eggshells.
Brent shifted his hands to his waistband, and Remy’s attention focused on the glint of gold on Brent’s finger.
Eve had returned to work after seven days off with a new ring and a new last name, and Remy had been floored. All those near misses they’d had…all those almost-kisses they’d both drawn back from because of their jobs and what people would think. He knew damn well that was the only reason for her hesitance. It wasn’t because she was seeing someone. She’d said as much. “I hope this job settles down enough that I’ll have time to date someone and get married before my eggs dry up,” she’d said.
He’d laughed along with her, knowing full well he wouldn’t let that happen. He would have given this woman anything, if only she’d asked. This was the sweet, caring woman who delivered chicken soup and ginger ale to him during the first week of her residency when she’d learned he’d been laid on his ass with the flu. She hadn’t done it because she wanted to ingratiate herself with the Chief Resident, but because she was just that kind of woman. If there was something simple she could do to make someone else happy, she’d do it then forget about it.
And now it seemed the college dropout had been in the right place at the right time…the place Remy should have been. And as much as the man intrigued him, he hated him.
“Where do you want me, Eve?” Brent asked as he took off his running shoes.
Casual man. Remy couldn’t fault him for it, although personally he preferred to dress up for travel. He’d learned that from his mother. She’d always said dressing up was respectful. Remy hadn’t always agreed, but at thirty-six, the lesson had become ingrained in him.
“I don’t know. I haven’t exactly done this before.” Idly, she raked her fingers through Remy’s hair, calming him probably as much as the gesture calmed her.
“Might I suggest we move to the bed?” Remy asked. He tilted his face toward hers and carefully let her foot down to the floor. He needed to get a handle on the situation. They’d been together for less than half an hour, and it was already spiraling wildly out of control. “Brent, if you’d lean against the headboard, Eve can put her back against you.”
Remy stood and saw Brent’s expression was wary. He had good reason to be cautious, because Remy believed that the best way to get someone to see him was to get right on top of them. He was going to make the big man see, all right.
The mechanic sidled around Eve and cast her an inscrutable look.
She grinned at him, and it was girlish and excited. The kind of expressions people wore when they showed up at work, only to be given an unexpected day off.
She was enjoying the attention, and Remy couldn’t fault her. She deserved it.
As she removed her shirt and bra on her own, Remy made his way to the side of the bed and opened the nightstand drawer. After rooting through the collection of sexual enhancement favors he’d selected especially for Eve, he settled on a simple bottle of lube and set it on top of the stand.
Brent pushed one worrisome eyebrow up at him.
Remy smiled. He liked teasing this man. Liked watching his tanned skin flush and breathing speed up every time Remy poked at him. Remy was probably instigating a fight, but for now, the big man’s stunningly controlled agitation was making his nuts tighten. Maybe he got off a little over the idea of the other man showing some force.
Remy leaned onto the bed and whispered, “I suggest you take off your jeans, Mr. Troy. They might get messy.”
Remy winked at Brent, expecting him to refuse.
He eased back from the bed’s edge and nudged down his sweatpants and briefs.
Eve, standing at the foot of the bed, drew in a breath.
Must have been strange for her, seeing him like that after so many years. Well, he wasn’t ashamed. Had never been bashful.
She stood with her arms pressed over her pert breasts and had one leg crossed in front of the other in a misguided attempt at modesty. Whether it was for him, Brent, or both, Remy couldn’t say.
He pressed his palms atop the bed an inch or two from Brent’s clothed hip and met Brent’s unfriendly gaze again. “Beautiful, isn’t she?”
“She is.” Idly, Brent toyed with his belt buckle, and his breathing went to that uneven, agitated rhythm again. He couldn’t take his eyes off Eve. Her nudity was as much a novelty for him as it was Remy.
Remy clucked his tongue and pushed himself upright. “Why don’t you give him a bit of help, Eve?”
He wasn’t being magnanimous at all. Nothing he did was without intent. He was calculating. Had to be as a surgeon, and that tendency carried over into his personal life at times, too. When she leaned over in front of him to assist Brent, Remy’s cock grazed her ass, and she likely learned for herself just how calculating he was.
Now let’s see if this guy can get it up with an audience. Poor Eve if he can’t.
Eve climbed onto the high, large bed and worked Brent’s jeans past his hips. She looked from Brent’s face to her task and back.
He gave her encouraging nods all along the way, and when she paused at the dark thatch of hair beneath his waistband, he whispered, “All the way.”
“Okay.”
Another pull of his jeans, and his cock sprang up like a jack-in-the-box.
He was thick, long, and ready.
Remy squelched a sigh and balled his hands into fists at his sides when Eve paused to rim her tongue around Brent’s cock head.
There they went, gaining ground in territory they hadn’t explored in three months, just because of their surroundings. This place gave them permission to explore, though Remy had hoped Brent would be doing his exploration from the sidelines.
Brent drew in a breath and held it as she released her mouth’s suction from his shaft.
Remy worked his hand over his own cock as she maneuvered Brent’s pants down the rest of his way and chucked them onto the floor.
Truth be told, he could probably come just from watching them—these two perfect tens—but he didn’t want to watch. He wanted to play. Wanted to win this game and take Eve home as his prize.
“We’re going to take this slow and easy,” Remy said in an even monotone as he lifted one knee onto the bed. He closed his fingers around the bottle on the nightstand. “I’ll try not to push you too much. I know this isn’t what you expected to happen.”
She shook her head but grinned as she trailed her gaze down his torso and landed at his erection.
If he were feeling a bit more childish, he’d make it wave hello.
“No, it’s not what I expected. Seeing you, I mean.” Her pretty brow furrowed, as if something had just unsettled her. “You’ve been here before? Not just here in New Orleans, but here?”
Was that a note of jealousy in her voice? Couldn’t be.
While pressing down on the tab on the bottle, he said, coolly, “Not for what you’re probably thinking. We can talk about it later, if you’d like.”
&n
bsp; He climbed onto the bed, mere inches from Brent’s impressive erection, and brought the bottle’s tip to it. Too bad no one would be making good use of that magnificent cock any time soon.
Remy swirled a spiral of lubricant around the head and shaft and grinned at an un-amused Brent the entire time before he snapped the lid shut. “Now, Eve, if you’d just lie with your back against Brent, use him as a sort of backrest, I’ll take care of everything else.”
“Sounds like you’re getting the better end of this deal,” Brent said, but he accepted Eve into his open legs all the same and gasped when the small of her back pressed against his hardness.
“We can argue later about which is the better end.” Remy set the bottle on the table and crawled up between Eve’s legs.
He drew them up to his hips and let his fingers skim down her legs as he watched Brent struggle to keep a calm expression. “I might accidentally touch you, Brent. I hope you don’t find it too distracting.”
“My wife’s scent on your breath is distracting,” he said but reined in his scrutinizing stare long enough to loosen Eve’s ponytail elastic.
Her riot of dark curls fell over her shoulders, and Remy tucked strands back behind her ears. “Thank you for that. She should let her hair down more. Did she tell you about how I had to order her an extra-roomy bonnet for the operating room? She couldn’t get all her hair into one of the standard-sized ones.”
“No, I haven’t had the opportunity to hear that story yet. In fact, she hasn’t said much about you at all.”
“I find that hard to believe. Pretty sure I’m Eve’s favorite person.”
“You’re about to be her favorite corpse.”
Eve sighed and closed her eyes. “Suddenly, I have a good mental picture of what a pissing contest looks like.”
“Guess that doesn’t turn you on, huh?” Remy winked at her and tore open a condom packet.
“No. Not so much.”
“Then I’ll behave. For you, though. Not him.” He made his penance by drawing her clit into his mouth and sucking it hard until her back pulled away from Brent and her toes curled against Remy’s hips.