“But it was literally your first day on the job, so you can’t beat yourself up for it,” she pointed out. “And … you got it away from him, right? He didn’t actually do it?”
“Yeah, we got it away from him. But it was … damn tense for a while. And it was pretty embarrassing, too. I mean, we’d had the training and passed with flying colors. Only thing was, we were concentrating more on defusing the situation than on some of the technical stuff we’d learned.”
“And because we screwed up,” Ethan said, “that little girl almost saw the ugliest thing a person could see. So …”
“So … all’s well that ends well, the way I see it,” Mira offered, trying for a smile.
And luckily then, both guys seemed to lighten up and let go of the old memory. Ethan released a low albeit self-deprecating laugh, and Rogan said, “It was a long time ago. And a lesson learned.”
“And you ultimately saved the day,” she reminded them.
“And made damn sure we were more careful after that,” Ethan said.
When talk then turned to some of their other H.O.T. friends, Mira was grateful for happier topics. “Think I’m gonna fly down to Miami and see Colt soon,” Rogan informed them. Colt, whom Mira had met only once while traveling with Rogan, owned a personal security business in south Florida and had struck her as even more confident and cocky than Rogan could be.
And after a little talk of Rogan’s plans for fun in the sun, Ethan told them both what he’d learned from their buddy Jake, whom he’d talked to on the phone just yesterday. “He and Carly set a wedding date. Looks like next April we’ll all be getting together in that little town he moved to downstate.”
“More to drink?” Rogan asked Mira, gracing her with another sexy smile as he pointed to her mostly empty glass.
“Sure,” she said without hesitation. She didn’t want to get completely drunk, but a little intoxication would surely help dull her fears.
She watched as Rogan reached for the pitcher, then leaned to refill her glass without spilling a drop. “Basket business still good?” he asked—and she appreciated the shift to another safe-feeling topic.
“Yeah—it’s continued to bring in a lot of customers I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. In fact, we’ve been so busy lately that I almost felt bad leaving Lydia alone for the weekend.” Mira had owned and operated a bookstore on Bridge Street, the main thoroughfare through their waterside town, since before she’d met either of the men with her right now. But due to the declining book market, which saddened her in so many ways, a couple of years ago she’d converted the store into Books and Baskets, where she still sold books but also created gift baskets featuring books. It was a small shop with only one part-time employee in addition to her, but business had been booming lately.
“I put together a baby shower basket for your neighbor, Mrs. Denby, just yesterday,” she told Rogan. This particular basket had featured a baby name book and a reference guide for baby’s first year, along with a rattle, tiny socks, a small baby blanket, and a baby brush and comb. Now she recalled how the woman’s appearance in her shop had brought Rogan to mind, but she couldn’t have imagined being in this situation with him just over twenty-four hours later.
Rogan nodded. “I’m glad it’s going good for you, Mir.” Their eyes met and it made her remember, more than any other interaction they’d shared so far, what it had been like between them once upon a time. What it had been like to be his girl. He hadn’t always been the best boyfriend, but at moments, just the way he looked at her could make her feel … cherished. Like the center of his world.
She was almost relieved when he moved his attention back to Ethan. “Still working your ass off keeping the people I arrest out of jail?”
Ethan let out a laugh in reply. “Only the innocent ones. Mostly,” Ethan added. “You know that’s why I gave up the badge—couldn’t stand that loss of control after an arrest.” Mira recalled Ethan’s struggle between the two careers. Before attending police academy, he’d gone to law school, but then he’d wanted to be more hands-on in law enforcement, less caught up in a system that sometimes seemed unjust. In the end, though, he’d realized he didn’t like the other side of the equation, either—it had bothered him to have to arrest someone he felt might not be guilty and have no way to affect the outcome. So he’d taken the bar, passed with ease, and turned to litigation, practicing law in a way he felt helped the most honest people.
“Whatever works for ya,” Rogan answered easily.
After which Ethan switched his gaze to Mira, lowering his voice slightly. “And actually, now that the practice is pretty well established, I’m trying to slow down, reprioritize.”
And something in her chest warmed. Because yes, the situation they were in right now—it was about sex on the surface, but this reminded her that it was also about something much bigger. Once this weekend was past, she might really have her man back in her life, the way she wanted him. And if she was able to go through with the threesome plan, well, hopefully what Ethan had said would be true: They’d be closer; they’d know each other in a whole new, intimate way. The fact was, to her surprise, this was all starting to make sense to her.
Just then, Rogan pushed back the wooden chair he sat in, the legs squeaking across the hardwood floor, and headed to the bathroom. As she watched him go, then glanced back to Ethan, she realized the screwdrivers were hitting her. In addition to that pleasant, floaty feeling, she found herself having the urge to pick up with Ethan where they’d left off earlier in the hammock; she suddenly suffered the urge to straddle him in the chair.
“Doing okay?” he asked. “About everything?”
“So far so good,” she said without even measuring it. Which was a first here. She’d answered easily despite the weight of what he was asking. Again, she could only attribute the fresh comfort to the alcohol. And she didn’t mind anything she was feeling. An hour ago, the very idea of admitting she might really want to have a three-way had struck her as too forbidden, shameful. But now, slowly but surely, it had just begun to feel … honest. And if Ethan was okay with that honesty, why shouldn’t she be, too? “You?” she asked then, just to be certain.
He only grinned. “I’ve been okay all along. You’re the one who wasn’t sure.”
She widened her eyes on him in playful accusation. “I’m the one who had it dropped on me without warning, bub.”
He flashed a typical, sexy Ethan grin. “I know, I know. Now that we’re in this, I’m realizing that maybe springing it on you wasn’t the best way to go about it. But … you’re starting to seem more relaxed now.”
In reply, she just pointed to the highball glass in front of her filled with pale, orangey liquid.
Yet that caused him to squint a look of concern. “I hope it’s not just the vodka making you cool with this. Because if it is, tell me and we’ll call this whole thing off. Seriously.”
And once more she acknowledged to herself that now was indeed the time for honesty. “No, it’s not just the alcohol making me cool with it. It’s the alcohol … making me comfortable enough to admit to myself—and now you—that … I do want this.” Though an unexpected shiver rushed through her at the confession. Because saying it out loud was different than just thinking it. And, slowly, feeling each new word as it left her, she went on to say, “I’m still nervous, yeah, but … I’m turned on, too.”
And when her eyes locked with Ethan’s, she understood—in a fuller way than she had before—how this would bring them closer. Because what she’d just shared with him had already brought them closer. It was a new openness that stretched invisibly between them and expanded now, spreading outward through her chest and down. And it was different than the night she’d told him about her fantasy. She’d been drunker then, actually. And this … this was no longer about sharing a fantasy—this, again, was about reality.
Just then, the door to the bathroom—the only area inside the cabin that actually came with a door—opened, and though Mira
almost felt as if there was more to say, it ended their conversation. They were three again. And yet the quiet closeness to Ethan remained. That’s how this will work. Even though we’re with Rogan, we’ll feel silently connected in a way we weren’t before.
When Rogan sat back down and scooted his chair up toward the table, his knee pressed firmly against Mira’s underneath. And he didn’t move it.
Oddly, it caught her off guard—just because in most such situations, the other person would shift after bumping into her, give her back her personal space. And when he didn’t, it reminded her in a whole new way why. The plan was for her and Rogan to get close again, for the first time in a long time. In front of Ethan. Or with Ethan. She wasn’t even sure how that part would work, how Ethan wanted it to work—or if it was really all about how she wanted it to work.
Stop thinking so hard about this. Just let it be what it is, whatever it becomes. Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. But she used the moment to take another big sip of her drink anyway—a little more fuel to help her relax still deeper into this surreal little birthday party Ethan had thrown for her.
“So … cards?” Ethan asked, holding up the deck.
“Sure,” Mira said for no particular reason.
“What do you want to play?” he asked.
And she blinked, stuck for an answer. But it took only a second for Rogan to suggest, “Strip poker?”
The idea felt almost childish, clichéd, and yet it made her giggle and cast him a look. “That’s not exactly fair.”
He simply raised his eyebrows as if to ask why.
“I’m”—she glanced down at her tank top and jeans—“not wearing much. Well, not as much as you guys anyway.” They each had on socks and shoes, whereas she was currently barefoot. And Rogan wore a denim jacket over his T-shirt.
“Guess that’s our gain,” he said with a wink she felt squarely between her legs.
And Ethan had just started dealing out cards, announcing, “Five card stud,” when an old disco tune Mira loved met her ears. She didn’t hold in her response, letting her eyes go wide as she said, “My song!”
Ethan cast her a sideways glance. “‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?’ by Rod Stewart is your song? Why? And how do I not know this?”
“I never told you this story?” She started to dance in her chair a little without thought and grew instantly aware that the movement subtly increased and then decreased the pressure of her knee against Rogan’s.
“Uh, no. That I’d remember,” Ethan said, looking amused.
But she didn’t care if loving the old dance song seemed silly—she still moved to the rhythm, and the shift of her legs beneath the table sometimes brought her other knee into contact with Ethan’s now, too. “I was a baby when it was popular,” she explained, “and according to my mother, I’d never spoken a word—until one day I suddenly sang the whole chorus along with Rod on the radio.”
Both guys smiled and Ethan said, “So your first words were, ‘If you want my body’?”
She shrugged, still dancing in her seat. “So the story goes. And apparently, it became my theme song after that. I danced whenever it was on, and I’m told I once even danced on a table in a restaurant when my aunt played it on the jukebox and that everyone applauded.”
Looking just as entertained as Ethan now, Rogan leaned back in his chair slightly, watching her from beneath shaded lids. “You can dance on the table for us now if you want.”
She let out a laugh. “Nope, not getting on the table, but I will dance to it. And so will you guys.” And with that, she followed the instinct to push to her feet, grabbing onto each of their wrists in an attempt to pull them up from their chairs.
The two men just gave each other are-we-really-going-to-do-this? looks, but when Rogan let himself be guided from his chair, Ethan relented, too. And the next thing she knew, Mira was twirling about the open hardwood surrounding the table with them both.
She and Ethan wordlessly attempted the disco move that involved him spinning her into his arms, then out again, and though it turned out sloppy, they giggled along the way. Mira didn’t resist acting a little silly as she moved to the music, letting the pumping beat guide her motions, and she even laughed out loud, feeling just a bit dizzy, a bit giddy during the spins that brought both guys subsequently into view. They were both smiling at her, both thought she was cute, fun—she could feel that. She sang along with Rod without even thinking about it; she still knew the words by heart.
On one rotation out of Ethan’s grasp, she lost her balance and whirled right into Rogan, who opened his arms to steady her—and she found her back firmly against his front. Or, more notably, her ass against … oh, wow … his erection.
She sucked in her breath, her body still plastered to Rogan’s as the sexy, upbeat song played on. Again, heat rose to her cheeks, but for a different reason this time. She bit her lip and absorbed the sensation of that hot, glorious hardness pressing against her when she’d least expected it.
Her gaze met Ethan’s—he stood just a few feet away—and she knew instantly that he could read her face, see the fresh passion suddenly etched there. And she understood without looking that Rogan sensed it, too—that he knew why she’d suddenly gone so still. He held her hips, yet she could easily dance away from him if she wanted. Only she didn’t; she stayed exactly where she was.
And in that moment, the fun-loving mood transformed into something slightly darker—and more profound.
Ethan moved his lips to mouth the words, I love you. I want this.
And she felt them in her chest—they were real, he loved her, and this would be okay. If any doubt still remained, somehow this wiped it all away.
She let out a sigh, more like a heavy breath. And she became aware that Rogan’s right hand was leaving her hip and coming up to smoothly pull her hair back off her shoulder, away from her neck, his fingers grazing the tender skin there—even as his other hand snaked farther around her body, his palm coming to rest low on her belly, holding her there, steady and tight against the stiff column behind his zipper.
Still, she reminded herself, You can stop this. You can stop it right now. You can just spin playfully out of his hold, laugh, make it fun. Then take a little more time to ease into it.
But she didn’t.
Oh God. This is going to happen. This is going to happen and I’m going to let it.
Or at least she thought she was. Maybe when it really began, she’d panic, change her mind, and go running away from it all like a little girl. But for the moment, she was more excited than afraid.
When Rogan’s mouth brushed across the tender skin of her neck, she trembled—and pleasure rolled through her. She shut her eyes briefly, trying to absorb it—and oh Lord, it was strange to open them and see Ethan, watching, looking as aroused as if it were just the two of them. At first she felt uncomfortable, like things were colliding here that shouldn’t—but then she found herself enmeshed in Ethan’s gaze, in that undeniably sexy look in his eyes.
Rogan kissed her neck again, again—each one seeming to explode through her like a starburst. And she suffered urges of her own, the urge to respond, to react, more than she’d let herself so far. Though now that they were doing this, she began to quickly grow more nervous, her emotions ping-ponging back and forth, wild and uncontrollable. Her head swam with alcohol and lust and fear and the last remaining vestiges of the good little girl she’d once been, not giving up her virginity until her twenty-first birthday to her first true love.
That’s who I was. A girl who needed sex to come with emotion, who needed to feel deeply close to a guy in order to be that open, that honest, that real. She’d never understood casual sex—she’d never grasped how her girlfriends in college had managed to be naked and writhing and panting with guys they barely knew. But she’d also always known she was in the minority on that. And Rogan was no stranger. Far from it.
So it’s now or never. Either you do this or you don’t. You can’t have it both ways; y
ou can’t be in it halfway. All or nothing. What’s it gonna be?
And then the hand that had been in her hair drifted to her shoulder, his fingers curling into the fabric of her tank top and the bra strap beneath—and though the touch landed high above her breast, that’s where she felt it anyway.
Okay, I’m in it. Completely. And besides, she wasn’t sure she had the strength to stop things now even if she’d wanted to.
So with a last fleeting glance toward the man she lived with, she followed her instincts—she shut her eyes and leaned her head to one side so the other man in the room could kiss her neck more easily. She absorbed each single, solitary kiss, feeling it fully, accepting the pleasure that dripped all the way down to her pussy like a gift. And then she remembered, it was a gift. Her birthday gift from Ethan.
She bit her lip, pressed her ass more firmly against the hard erection she remembered so well. She hissed in her breath at all the sensations, drank in the soft groan from Rogan that came with the shift in her thinking, the shift in her feeling—he clearly understood now, too, that this was going to happen, that she’d started moving past her hesitation.
And then she followed further impulses. To turn, slowly, gently, in his arms. To flatten her palms against his broad chest through the dark T-shirt he wore, the CPD insignia on the front stretching across contoured muscle. She looked up into his eyes. Remembered another relationship, with him, which suddenly felt at once closer in time and farther away than it had really been. He kissed good. He kissed great. She hadn’t forgotten that. She wanted him to kiss her.
He must have read the want in her eyes, or on her parted lips, or maybe he was just working on instinct and desire, too—because he lowered his mouth to hers, warm and moist and powerful, the kiss moving all through her like an engulfing wave. For a moment she even forgot Ethan stood behind her watching; for a moment she knew only Rogan’s presence, Rogan’s heat. Oh Lord, this was going to be more complicated than any of them had probably bargained on.
Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel Page 4