Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel

by Lacey Alexander

  She took a deep breath. She didn’t really want to tell him. So she kept it simple. “Guess I had some thinking to do.”

  “Yeah?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

  She just nodded, aware that both of them kept their voices low as they talked. Neither wanted to wake Ethan, but she wasn’t sure that was due to pure intentions.

  Rogan took in everything about her—Mira in the morning. It was … how he liked her best. They hadn’t ever lived together, but they’d certainly spent plenty of nights at each other’s place, and when she was like this—scantily clad, hair messy and wild, face so natural—he’d always felt like he saw the real her. He admired the professional woman who ran her own business, always so put together and on top of things—but he loved the girl who was just comfortable and happy sitting around with him half-dressed and sexy as hell without even trying.

  “This thinking you had to do—come to any conclusions yet?” He asked it easily, but his heart beat harder than normal against his ribcage. Because he knew damn good and well what she was thinking about. She might have walked away from him after their sex against that old well, telling him they were going to forget it, but all night last night he’d been able to read the struggle in her eyes. And God knew he hadn’t come here planning to upset the balance of her life—of any of their lives—yet at the same time, knowing how much what he’d said to her affected her had only amped up his lust even more last night. And with every hot stroke of his cock into her mouth, pussy, ass, he’d had … hope.

  Though not a lot of it. And if he’d let himself think about it very much, he’d have felt damn guilty for Ethan’s sake, same as he had yesterday at the well. But maybe he just wasn’t a very good person because, when it came down to it, he wanted what he wanted. And he wanted Mira more than he cared about fucking over Ethan. That probably made him a piece of shit, but there it was.

  “No,” she finally replied, giving her brunette head a pretty shake. “I’m still … torn.”

  And now … a little more hope. And a lot more desire. Shit, it burned through his veins like a fast-moving drug at the very sight of her this morning, and it was all he could do not to just take her, right here, right now, on the front porch, Ethan be damned.

  And maybe he should be surprised to find her seriously thinking this over, seriously considering the play he’d made for her yesterday—but somehow he wasn’t. Yeah, they’d been apart a long time now—far longer than they’d been together in the first place—but for the time when she’d belonged to him, the passion had been … fucking electric, magnetic. And that kind of thing might go away for a while, but it never really died.

  And even though they both knew good and well what they were talking about here, he discovered that he still wanted to hear her say it. “Over me and Ethan? Me or Ethan?”

  She gave a light, barely perceptible nod, and her voice came just as small. “Yeah.”

  And hell—just that one tiny word, whispered as soft as a breath, sent his heart soaring.

  Most of the time in life, Rogan let his instincts guide him, and this moment was no different. In response, he leaned slightly closer, facing her, and though her knees—pulled up in front of her—created a barrier between them, he smoothly slid his hand around the back of her ankle, then let it glide up her calf as he said, “Maybe I can help you decide, babe.”

  Their gazes locked and he fell in love all over again with the hunger in her green eyes. How the hell had he ever let her go? And he didn’t know if sex was the way to win her back—but as always with Mira, and especially after the new sides of her he’d seen here, he couldn’t push down his urges. And what he was feeling now—it wasn’t about the hard, dirty sort of sex he’d had with her this weekend, or even by the well. No, it was just about being close to her, connecting with her—though the drive for it was just as strong as anything he’d felt over the past two days.

  Using both hands, he parted her legs—and she let him, lowering one foot to the wooden porch below. Her eyes shone glassy with desire, emotion. He really did feel bad—about putting her in an unpleasant position, about Ethan—but God, she was beautiful, and he just didn’t have the strength to fight it.

  Easing his arms around her, clamping his hands onto her ass, he lifted her into his lap until she straddled him, the crux of her thighs—covered in black cotton—meeting with the erection that had begun to push its way up and out of his unzipped jeans. He let out a low groan and she emitted a shivery sigh. Then he leaned forward, let his forehead touch hers. “Babe, I don’t know how I was ever stupid enough to walk away from you, but it’s a mistake I won’t make again if you give me the chance.”

  When he finished, he heard her pretty intake of breath. Wondered if she were really on the verge of putting her trust in him again, of really forgiving him and letting them start over. On impulse, he kissed her, firm and deep, squeezing her bottom in his hands.

  And then her fingers were in his hair and she was whispering. “Last night, when you were in my ass …”

  “Aw babe,” he growled, low. Yeah, after all these years, he’d finally gotten there and it had felt … fucking triumphant in a way. And like he belonged there. “You loved it as much as I always knew you would,” he finished for her.

  She looked breathless, her cheeks flushed, and simply nodded.

  And he couldn’t hold in his grin. “God, you were fucking amazing. You blew my damn mind this weekend, over and over.”

  She smiled, too, though now she looked a little sheepish. Same Mira—as sweet as she was sexy. But hell, after this weekend, he knew that the sexual animal within her was just as ravenous as he ever could have hoped. “I still can’t believe some of the things I did.”

  “I can,” he told her. Then he kissed her again, all the while following the urge to push her top up over her sumptuous breasts, the beaded nipples a paler pink than the cami she wore. “I always knew there was a nasty girl deep down inside you, and I’m damn glad I finally got to meet her.”

  Why did those words affect Mira so deeply? Maybe because it felt so … right to have found that nasty girl. She’d been so afraid of that part of herself as recently as Friday night, but now she’d fucked two men, over and over again in every possible way, and the world hadn’t stopped spinning. She was at once changed but still the same person she’d always been. Just … a different form of herself. A more evolved form. And she couldn’t deny that maybe Rogan had been right—maybe she had held back in bed when they were together before and she’d just never known it, because she’d never realized how much she was capable of letting go until now. It was like … like all this time she’d been held hostage by her fears, her ideas of what made a woman good or bad. But no more. Both Rogan and Ethan had set her free.

  And then it hit her. Both men she’d spent this weekend with had once been selected to be on a hostage rescue team, the H.O.T. program. She never could have dreamed just how far their skills in that area could extend. But, together, they’d both drawn her out of the protective sexual shell she hadn’t even known she was hiding in. Together, they’d somehow released her from her old notions of who she wanted to be sexually and they’d shown her who she could be—who she really was.

  She found herself kissing Rogan back for all she was worth, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her nipples grazing his chest as a cool morning breeze wafted over them, heightening every sensation. And as always, it felt so intoxicatingly good as she sank deeper and deeper into the moment, into the heat of him.

  And was this … was this her choosing Rogan?

  But … no. No, this was only being seduced by Rogan. This was still the imaginary, temporary world of the cabin. This was … a last hurrah.

  Whoa. Was it? The end? The last? She wasn’t certain—she only knew those words had come to mind just now. And she also wasn’t certain what she was doing here, what she was thinking. Wasn’t this just as wrong as it had been yesterday when they’d fucked in the woods? Was she letting herself g
o down that dark road again? And if so, why?

  God, all these questions—they almost threatened to overwhelm her. But she couldn’t stop asking them. Because this was big. Important.

  Even so, another part of her—the sexual animal she’d discovered inside herself this weekend—truly didn’t want to think about them. That part of her didn’t want to measure or analyze this right now—that part of her simply wanted to soak up every second of this, every nuance, the dark passion in his gaze, the way his slightly roughened fingertips felt as he ran them up her sides … the sensation of his big, hard cock stretching up the center of her right now, making her grind against it.

  His voice was a low, sexy rasp in her ear. “You wanna fuck me, babe?”

  The heat in the question nearly stole her breath. God yes, she wanted to.

  But she only breathed, “I can’t.”

  “You can’t?” he asked, his eyes asking something deeper. Do you mean you can’t right now, here on the this porch? Or that you really can’t, ever?

  She tried to breathe, but it was hard. And rational thoughts were even more difficult to come by. “Not here, not now,” she heard herself whisper shakily. Though she wasn’t sure what the answer meant—if she was somehow telling him this could go on, this thing between him and her, or if she was just confused and caught in the passion of the moment and didn’t know how to deal with it.

  And that’s when she realized, saw in her peripheral vision … oh God.

  Ethan stood on the porch with them.

  She and Rogan both looked up at the same time to see him staring down. He, too, wore blue jeans—even shoes—and carried a T-shirt in one hand, giving the impression he’d been getting dressed as he’d stepped outside. Lord, he’d been so quiet. Or maybe the loud pounding of her heart in her ears had somehow just drowned out his approach.

  She met his gaze—and even after everything they’d shared over the weekend, at this moment, she felt like the sluttiest woman alive. To be straddling Rogan. To be telling him, in effect, that she would love to fuck him and couldn’t only because she needed to keep it secret from the man who loved her.

  He’d witnessed that part; she could tell. The hurt in his blue eyes ran that deep.

  “Ethan, I—”

  She stopped, though, when he simply turned around and marched toward the porch steps.

  “Ethan!” she called, instinctively reaching up, pulling her top down over her boobs. She remained in Rogan’s lap yet was barely aware of it now.

  “Leave me the fuck alone,” Ethan bit off as his feet reached the ground.

  “Wait.” She was trying to get disentangled from Rogan’s body, trying to get to Ethan.

  “Dude, it’s not her fault,” Rogan said.

  But Ethan was still on the move, trudging away from the cabin now as he called over his shoulder, “Fuck you, man. Fuck you both. You can both go to hell.”

  Chapter 17

  Seeing the hurt in Ethan’s eyes had been … God, like a lightbulb suddenly and brightly illuminating over Mira’s head. What was she doing? Why on earth had she risked hurting him—in the woods with Rogan yesterday or now? How had she let herself be so stupidly reckless?

  Because in this moment, it all became clear to her. To the very core of her soul, she understood with shocking clarity that Ethan was the man for her, the man she loved and would always love, the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with!

  If she hadn’t just ruined that.

  Finally getting herself apart from Rogan and onto her feet, she said to him, “I’m sorry, Rogan. I’ll probably always want you in ways—but Ethan has my heart now.”

  And with that, she started to dash off the porch after the man she loved, but Rogan stopped her with, “Babe. Shoes.”

  Oh shit, he was right—she’d learned already that it was dangerous to walk around here barefoot, even when trying to be careful choosing each step, and right now she didn’t have that luxury—she needed to run!

  Rushing back into the cabin, she spotted her flip-flops and shoved her feet into them. And she thought briefly of clothes, remembering how little she wore, but then decided it didn’t matter—it was more important to catch up with Ethan before he got any farther away.

  And what she’d just told Rogan was so very true—she did want him, she truly cared for him. Maybe she even really loved him. But it just wasn’t on the same level as what she shared with Ethan. This weekend with them both had been beyond incredible, but so confusing, too—and to tempt her with her old lover had just been, well … too tempting, apparently. Yet now, faced with the idea of really losing her man, and knowing how much she’d just hurt him … her heart shriveled in her chest.

  She felt bad about the fact that she barely gave Rogan a backward glance as she darted out the door and down the steps, though she still heard him say, “Be careful,” behind her. And she truly wished she had time to go back, to make him understand—and maybe give him one last kiss. But she didn’t. She’d screwed up her priorities enough his weekend already—now was the time to remember who came first and to put him there the way she should have all along.

  From the side of the cabin, she scanned the area and caught sight of Ethan up ahead—he followed the path that led to the well.

  God, he has to go there? To the very spot where I first betrayed his trust?

  But she couldn’t think about that now or let it slow her down—so she moved briskly up the trail after him, as quickly as she could go in her flip-flops, her heart pounding a mile an hour.

  “Ethan, please wait!” she called after him. He was moving too fast and she wasn’t gaining any ground.

  But he ignored her, just kept walking. And for the first time since he’d appeared on the porch, her sense of shock and panic began to give way to something else: I could lose him. I could really lose him. Right here and now. God, maybe I already have.

  She moved faster, watching her footing, jogging a little when she could, but the path grew more narrow with each step, and like the last time she’d been in these woods, she felt the forest closing around her, becoming more pervasive. She hadn’t minded it so much then—but she minded it now. She suffered the sense that the forest might just swallow her and Ethan whole by the time she caught up to him.

  Chilled by air that felt cooler, danker under the trees than back at the cabin, she was breathless by the time she began to draw closer to him—he’d reached the trail’s end at the wishing well. He still held a dark blue T-shirt wadded in his hand, one she recognized from a Florida beach vacation they’d taken together two summers ago.

  Now that she was here, she wasn’t quite sure what would happen and thought he might just keep right on ignoring her—but instead he looked up at her approach.

  “This your wishing well?” he asked brusquely.

  “Yeah.” Her voice came too quiet; she barely heard her own reply.

  His eyes narrowed on her in disgust. “What’d you wish for?”

  “Lasting love,” she told him. “For the rest of my life.”

  He simply made a pffft sound and rolled his eyes. She guessed she couldn’t blame him.

  “I meant it,” she insisted anyway. Though she wouldn’t explain that the coin she’d used had come from Rogan’s pocket—and she had no idea if she should tell him what else had happened here with Rogan, either. Same as when it had taken place, it wasn’t that she wanted to lie, but why hurt him further? Why make him think she really wanted Rogan when she knew now that she didn’t? Yes, she’d been confused for a little while, but it all seemed so clear to her now. And so she simply spoke from her heart, and was as honest as she could be about how she felt. “Ethan,” she began, “Rogan is … sex. But you’re … everything. You’re sex, you’re love. You’re … walks in the park and trips to the doctor. You’re paying the bills and running errands with me on Saturday mornings. You’re holding me when I cry at sappy movies. You’re … snuggling while we sleep. Rogan is sex, but you’re my life.

 
“What you saw,” she went on when he didn’t answer, “that meant nothing. This weekend was … amazing for me, but also … confusing as hell, E. It brought back old feelings for Rogan—and maybe I just had to get them out of my system or something. But I never meant to do anything that hurt you. And I promise it’s all in the past—you’re the only man I really want. You’re the one I love.”

  Ethan simply looked at her. He’d seen so many sides of her over the past two days—and now she stood before him in her underwear in the middle of the woods apologizing for something that … despite himself, he still couldn’t believe she’d done.

  Because even though they’d never actually talked about it, to share her with Rogan, to have a threesome with him, was a damn different thing than for her to go fooling around with him when he wasn’t there. And she obviously knew that—all three of them knew it. This weekend had been intended to draw the two of them closer together, not bring about things that would tear them apart.

  “It still … fucking hurts,” he told her. And hell, it was even more than that—it felt like having his damn chest ripped open. Like he couldn’t even breathe.

  “I know, Ethan, and I’m so, so sorry. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t.” He couldn’t deny that she looked as upset as he felt, her eyes desperate and guilty, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “Apologizing is all I know to do. Please forgive me.”

  He found himself thinking aloud, not even weighing his words. “I gave you this fantasy—and this is what I get back in return.”

  In response, her eyes changed then—shifting from distress to just … a replete sorrow he could almost feel dripping off her. “It was … a pretty complicated gift,” she quietly pointed out. “Generous beyond words, but … a lot to handle without much warning.”

  And shit—something in her words squeezed his heart. He didn’t want to feel bad for her right now—she’d fucked up and he wanted to stay mad, hold her accountable—but … hell. He’d brought Rogan here. To her birthday celebration. And right into the center of their relationship.