Seduced: Den of Sin Boxed Set 1

by Mel Blue

Eve had good reasons to be suspicious. She was a loving woman, but a careful one, and didn’t let men get close if they were going to negatively impact the life she’d built since her parents died. Like his situation, she’d been orphaned before thirty. They didn’t have anyone else, and that’s why he and Eve would be so good together. Still would be, if they could figure it all out.

  A masculine groan came behind him, and Remy rolled onto his back to see Brent stretching his arms over his head.

  “Eve back?” Brent asked.

  “She’s right here.”

  Brent grunted and closed his eyes. “I’ll try not to take it personally.”

  “I think there was probably more room on my side. You always spread out so much when you sleep?”

  With a chuckle rumbling in his chest, Brent eased closer to the right edge. “Probably. I wake up alone most mornings, so it’s not like I’ve built up a spatial awareness.”

  “Don’t move on my account. I kind of like being sandwiched.”

  A moment passed before Remy processed his own innuendo. If only he would be so lucky. Eve had expressed her lack of desire about getting it from both ends, but Remy had no such qualms.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever woken up to find a man in my bed,” Brent said.

  Remy rolled onto his side and propped his head on his fist. “Really? How’s that possible?” A guy like Brent should have been fighting to keep men out of his bed. If he frequented the sort of haunts Remy did, he’d have to carry around a big stick to keep his path clear of all the alpha male groupies.

  While rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, Brent grunted again. “I never really took people home. That would have exposed some part of me I didn’t necessarily want to give up.”

  “But you moved in with Eve.”

  “Yeah, eventually I did. But, on the rare occasion she’s actually there, she’s easy to be around. Doesn’t put demands on me, although she rightfully could. Wish she would sometimes.”

  Yeah, that sounded like Eve.

  “She’s just…”

  “What?” Remy was genuinely interested in what would have stopped Brent from making a move in all that time, with his wife of all people. Brent wasn’t exactly eligible for cuckold status.

  “I don’t know. I guess I worry I’m not good enough for her. I lived in a trailer park until I was five, when my father decided to start paying child support.”

  “You think she’s classist?”

  “I think she’s kind, so she’d never let me know if she were. Look, I didn’t even finish college, and she’s a doctor.”

  “And?”

  “I imagine what people will think. That she’s supporting me instead of the other way around.”

  “Do you need support, Brent?”

  “No. I do okay. Shop gets steady business, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to afford fixing Eve’s car so many times for cost…or less.”

  “You mean that old Audi? That thing needs to be taken behind a barn and shot. Clean through the radiator.”

  Brent chuckled again. “It was her mother’s.”

  “Oh.” Now that was something Remy didn’t know. He’d always thought she was just frugal, which wasn’t a bad thing, although he preferred to spend his money. It’s not like he could take it with him when he went, and he certainly didn’t have kids on the horizon to stash it away for.

  Remy rolled onto his back and turned toward Eve. Her breathing was slow and steady, her body relaxed.

  He rolled back over. “I always wondered why her parents didn’t clear up that mess in their wills,” he said, his voice even softer now. “Her mother was infertile, so when Eve came along, her mother was damn near fifty. Everyone was stunned. I understand how they would have put it on the backburner the first few years after she was born, but they never fixed it.”

  “Yeah. Eve told me,” Brent said. “That’s why she needed me. She had to jump through hoops to gets the house, because they’d wrapped it and their money up in a trust that was supposed to go to their universities. I think the stipulation was that she needed to demonstrate her attachment and long-term commitment to the area by marrying and establishing residence at the house by age thirty. If she leaves before turning thirty-five, the property goes back to the trust. She’s more concerned about the house than the money. I don’t blame her. It’s been in her family since the Civil War ended. That provision seemed almost an afterthought, but Eve said her parents had considered adopting for a while, and their lawyer suggested it.”

  “Oh. Adopted child or natural, if it had been me, I would have just left everything to my only child with no strings attached. That’s what my mother did, what little she had by then. It’s cruel to make your kids grieve your death again and again because you’re making them jump through a bunch of bureaucratic hoops to claim their inheritance.”

  Brent shifted. “Your mother passed?”

  Remy nodded and heat flooded his face. He didn’t want to talk about this, but maybe if Brent understood Remy wasn’t just a smiling, charming lothario, he’d understand. Remy had no intention of causing Eve any harm if he could help it. Eve was the woman who could cure a lot of what ailed him. Things he’d held back from her.

  He swallowed. “When I was in college. Freshman year. She never told me she was sick, but she had to have known. From one school break to the next, she went from bad to worse. Then around Easter, I had to arrange for hospice care.”

  “Cancer?”

  “Yeah.”

  Brent extended a tentative hand toward Remy’s face and brushed some hair back from his eyes. “I’m sorry. And your dad?”

  “Never knew him. My mother said he was just a guy in town for Mardi Gras. A soldier. He made a lot of promises but never came back.”

  And that’s why Remy didn’t make promises. He either did something or didn’t. He never set people up for disappointment, because he wouldn’t be that kind of cruel.

  But maybe he was kind of a hypocrite.

  He pressed Brent’s lingering hand against his cheek and brushed his lips over it.

  He’d never be cruel to Eve, but what about Brent?

  Maybe Remy was out of line and had assumed incorrectly that there wouldn’t be anything redeemable about this stranger she married, but he knew Eve better than that. She didn’t listen to words without tuning into hearts, as well.

  Brent may have been a near-stranger to her, but she would have seen something in him that made him worth her ever-dwindling energy.

  Just like Remy did.

  What a fucking mess.

  “Restaurants should start opening up pretty early. They’re going to try to draw in the tourist foot traffic. Weather looks good for sightseeing.” He wrapped his fingers around Brent’s hand and held it down at his side as he stared at the ceiling. “If you think you can get up, I know a little place that serves a really impressive breakfast. All-you-can eat, practically.

  “I’m used to getting up early.”

  “Good. Set that alarm, will you? If we go after nine, we might as well not bother.”

  He needed to start his day early. If he were fortunate, he could get a flight out by noon and have the rest of the weekend to put this trip behind him. With a little luck, by the time he got back to work on Tuesday, he could chalk it up to just being a “bad idea” and be his usual charming self at the hospital.

  Right.

  Brent turned on the bedside light and muttered, “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “That mixer is going on right now. Should I…we wake Eve and go?”

  Remy looked down at the sleeping Eve. So beautiful. So warm, nestled beside him.

  But the idea of putting her on public exhibition sent a surge of heat to his crotch. He needed to let her go, but just once before he did, he wanted to show her off.

  “Yeah, I’ll wake her.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  “You could have let me put some clothes on,” Eve said as she muffled a yawn behind the hand Rem
y wasn’t pulling.

  They were heading toward the atrium at an unholy clip, and she was feeling rather underdressed for the occasion. Remy had insisted it was clothing-optional and even pointed out the line in the events schedule stating as much. The boys looked perfectly reasonable wearing only their pajama bottoms. Brent’s were a dark blue and red plaid flannel, while Remy wore a low-slung pair colored a luxuriant spring green.

  “Well, you have the robe,” Remy said. They paused at the entryway to acknowledge the staff member holding a silver tray laden with champagne flutes.

  Eve needed something far stronger than what was in that narrow glass. Perhaps un-distilled vodka would hit the spot. All the same, she took one when the attendant dipped the tray in front of her and downed the contents quickly.

  “Right,” she said. “My robe.”

  It was an anemic scrap of fabric emblazoned with the hotel’s monogram and barely covered her ass. At least her panties were full-coverage. She shuddered to think of how much worse the draft could be.

  She set her empty glass on the tray and took a deep breath as she scanned the open, airy room. Guests in various states of dress, or undress as it were, lingered about. Some lounged on the fine damask chaises and sofas interspersed in the forest of potted palms and fountains. Others were more brazen, kissing, petting, de-clothing and more, with little regard to the prying eyes around them.

  She jumped when a hand landed at her waist, and it took her a moment to recognize the heavy, double-grooved gold wedding band as Brent’s.

  She closed her eyes, and relaxed into his embrace. God.

  “You all right, Eve?”

  “Just a little overwhelmed.”

  Remy disposed of his glass and took her left hand again. “We can hit the buffet. I hear there’s white chocolate.”

  “Mmmmm.” She moaned as much from the thought of the sweets as Brent’s fingers skimming up and down her side. It seemed to be his way of checking in. Of saying, “Hey, I’m here.”

  She appreciated it—liked it—but it wasn’t like she could forget him, especially with all the not-so-coy looks some of the female guests were turning his way. He was built like a gladiator and had the face of a model. The dimples made him approachable. The dimples were what made her blurt, “Marry me?”

  She grabbed onto the back of his waistband and cast an evil glower at a woman sprawled on a chaise nearby who was licking her lips at him. Well, him or Remy Maybe both. Eve couldn’t tell for sure, but she sure as shit wasn’t sharing. She pressed her palm flat against Brent’s back and dipped into his pants.

  He drew up a bit when she grabbed a palmful of muscular ass, but the woman on the chaise got the drift. She rolled her eyes and looked elsewhere.

  Brent leaned in and whispered, “What was that for?”

  She slid her hand out and drew her gaping robe shut. “Just checking your reflexes.”

  “They seem to be working okay,” Remy said, and Eve followed the path of his gaze down to the bulge in the front of Brent’s pants.

  Brent had the decency to blush, but there was something in Remy’s tone Eve couldn’t quite catalogue. It was teasing, yes, but there was a hint of something else that seemed borderline wistful. Remy had always been inscrutable, so maybe she was trying to read something there that didn’t exist.

  She looked from one man, to the other, and her own cheeks burned from the intensity of their stares. She hadn’t forgotten what she’d walked in on them doing. Remy’s cock pulsing from his ejaculate’s fast arc as Brent held his wrists bound over his head against the tile wall with his big hands while he eased his cock out of Remy’s tight cheeks.

  She’d known Remy dated mostly men, but Brent… She would never have guessed. But then again, he’d never really shown much of an interest for either sex, as far as she could remember.

  Brent’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he turned to Eve. “Why don’t you two go find us a quiet spot, and I’ll get you something. Will you let me pick for you?”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I want to. I’ll get us all something.” He picked up her hand and skimmed his lips over the back. “Hmm?”

  “Okay. Surprise me.”

  “He hasn’t surprised you enough yet?” Remy asked then gave her hand a little pull that got her away from Brent and toward a shadowy niche.

  If Brent heard the commentary, he didn’t respond to it. Just walked away with purpose in each step.

  “This has been a weekend full of surprises,” she said.

  Remy took a seat on a wide, cushioned bench and tapped the space between his open legs.

  Eve settled into the nook.

  He rested his chin on her shoulder and threaded his fingers together at her belly. “I have to admit, I had a minor panic attack when you told me you were coming here. I didn’t care so much before about what was happening with you and Brent, because you were at the hospital all the time. You never talked about him, so I assumed there wasn’t really much going on at home. But coming here… I knew that meant you wanted to connect. I didn’t want that. You should have talked to me, Evie.”

  “How was I supposed to know? You’re a huge tease. I see the way you work people over and figured you just couldn’t help yourself with me. You wouldn’t be Remy if you didn’t flirt.”

  “I wasn’t just flirting.”

  “Evidently.”

  “This certainly complicates things.” He inched his hands down to her naked thighs where he parted them before skimming up toward her apex.

  She drew in a breath and swatted his hands away from her quivering sex.

  “Going back to work next week will be a barrel of laughs. I won’t be able to stop thinking about what you look like beneath your scrubs.”

  “Do you like the way I look?”

  “Very much.”

  “I like the way you look beneath yours, too.” As if to emphasize that point, he ground his erection against the small of her back.

  “Quit it. People might see.”

  “So? Look around. People are otherwise distracted, and besides, I don’t mind a little exhibition. We’ll probably never see these people again.”

  He loosened the ties of her robe and planted warm hands against her belly. Then he eased his fingers into the waistband of her panties.

  She became breathy as he drummed fingertips over her clit.

  “But Brent—”

  “Will be right back,” he whispered into her hair. “Ease up a bit and take your panties off.”

  “What?”

  When she didn’t move right away, he hooked his thumbs into the sides of her underwear and wiggled them down a bit. “Off.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes. You can have the chocolate as your reward.”

  “I’m not that desperate for chocolate.”

  “But I’m desperate to be inside you again. Do you feel how hard I am?”

  “I do.” She’d have to be comatose if she didn’t.

  “I want to feel you without a condom. You know I’m clean. I got tested just like you did before we came here.”

  “Um…” Eve scanned the room. He was right. No one was paying any attention to them in their little corner, and maybe the idea of being in such a well-trafficked place exhilarated her a bit. She would never dream of doing something so brazen back home, but here in this place, where everyone shared a secret, she had nothing to lose besides her inhibitions.

  “Okay.” She stood a bit and eased off her panties.

  Remy’s pants brushed against her calves on their way down, and before she could nudge them away, he spread her and pulled her down to his lap.

  “Why don’t you take off the robe?” he whispered. He gripped her tight as he held her just over his seeping cock. “Take off your robe, Eve. I want to feel your skin against me. God, you’re so wet. I can’t wait to feel you.”

  Contrary to what he said, she just bet he was going to hold her there like that, teasing her slit with his head, until she com
plied with his request.

  She eased the robe down her arms and let it fall to the floor right as Brent rounded the corner and froze with a large platter in his hand.

  Remy pushed her onto his cock and whispered, “Fuck,” and it wasn’t because of Brent’s presence.

  “Brent…” She looked at him, trying to get the words out, but nothing made sense. She couldn’t think straight with Remy flicking at her engorged clit and swirling his cock around inside her, trying to relax her tightness.

  Remy pulled her thighs back one at a time and draped her legs over his, exposing her, and making what they were doing vivid for all to see…especially Brent.

  Remy was undeterred and began slow, precise upward thrusts, never ceasing his siege on her clit. “Right here,” he said and flicked his fingers, which made Eve’s toes curl against his calves.

  She thought he was talking to her, teasing her, but then Brent set the platter on an unused ottoman and approached the brazen display.

  “Brent? I—”

  “Shh,” Remy whispered. When he moved his hand away from her clit, Brent lowered to his knees in front of them.

  Remy moved to the edge of the bench without losing a beat, then Brent’s mouth was on her clit, sucking, laving, pulling it, and she could hardly cope with the barrage of sensations.

  “You like that, Eve?” Remy whispered. He increased his speed, deepened his thrusts.

  Her only response was a whimper.

  She threaded her fingers through Brent’s short hair to increase their contact and encourage him, just as he found her breasts and yanked aside the lace covering.

  Now she was fully exposed, should anyone care to look, but she found it difficult to care with her nipples being clamped between rough fingers and pussy teased with long licks that originated not at her slit, but at Remy’s balls.

  She watched, stunned, as he lapped around the other man’s sac and sometimes skimmed the base of his dick when it wasn’t inside Eve.

  Remy’s breathing became more ragged, his grunts louder, whenever Brent’s tongue was on him.

  She didn’t feel jealous about these two men interacting. How could she when she was in the middle of all the pleasure, being thrilled by both at once?