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

by Lacey Alexander

  When he pulled out of her, the opening felt … too large at first, uncomfortably so. But as she rolled to her back on the ground, that sensation began to fade. Especially when she looked up into Ethan’s eyes. “I love you,” she said again.

  “I love you, too, Mir,” he replied, his body angled over hers, one hand cupping her jaw. And—oh God, thank you!—he sounded like … well, like his normal, usual, loving self again. Which she thought, at this point, seemed like a good sign.

  And even as they began to kiss, she remained turned on, whispering, “That was so hot.”

  “I know.”

  “Not that I necessarily want it to be this way every time, E, but … well, I think I could go for more of this. If you could. I think I’m glad we, um, discovered this.”

  His grin was laced with just a bit of naughtiness. “Aw, me too, baby. Me too.”

  “Are … are we good, Ethan?” she asked then. Because she had to. It all felt good, and she hated to take them back to a bad place, but this had to be talked about.

  He hesitated a minute before answering, his eyes serious and a little sad, until he finally said, “It wasn’t your fault.”

  She peered up at him, let out a sigh. The truth was, some of it had been her fault. But a lot of it hadn’t. So she simply replied, “I just … got swept up in the weekend. But you’re truly the man I love, Ethan.” Then she lifted a hand to touch the stubble on his jaw and knew no words she’d ever spoken had been more accurate.

  “I believe you,” he said softly, then lowered his mouth over hers for a long, slow kiss. And when it was done, Mira wanted nothing more than to kiss him again and again, and to forget anything bad had happened this weekend—but she still couldn’t.

  “Although … there’s something you should know.” Oh Lord, she really didn’t want to tell him this, really didn’t want to hurt him further or risk what they’d just repaired, but now … now she was beginning to realize the brutal truth: If they were to move forward from this weekend, really move forward, she had to tell him what had happened between her and Rogan in this very same spot yesterday. She just had to. To leave it unsaid would be like a lie between them, and even as much as she’d been trying to hold this back, even as afraid as she was to say it, she simply had no choice. “Something more,” she added, trying to will the difficult words out, “about the walk I took here yesterday.”

  Ethan just looked at her for a long moment. And she thought he could almost read the truth in her eyes, or that maybe what she’d just said made the truth clear enough already and that she didn’t have to say anything at all. Though it surprised the hell out of her when he finally told her, “Maybe I don’t want to know.”

  She drew in her breath, let it back out. “Are you sure?”

  “I … I guess I didn’t think through all the situations that could arise or … the complications that could crop up by bringing Rogan into our relationship. So … nothing that happened between you and him matters—I promise. I just want to move forward, me and you, consider this a fresh start. How does that sound?”

  She couldn’t help smiling. Because he’d just proven to her what a truly amazing man he really was. “Sounds perfect.”

  They walked back to the cabin without discussing what they would say to Rogan when they got there. Mira thought perhaps they were both on overload—so much sex, so much conflicting, confusing emotion—and it felt a little surreal to be treading quietly up the path in the woods with both of them half dressed. She just wasn’t sure there was any room left in their exhaustion-ridden brains for thinking ahead right now.

  Yet when they stepped inside, there was no sign of him. The bathroom door was open, the small room empty, so Ethan wordlessly pulled back a curtain to glance out toward the driveway. “His car’s gone.”

  It was about that time that Mira noticed a note on the kitchen table, still a mess with cheesecake from last night—the corner of the paper held down by an empty wine bottle.

  Mira and Ethan,

  Thanks for a great weekend.

  Hope you had a happy birthday, M.

  That simple. Not even a signature.

  Part of her felt a little empty inside—for better or worse, she’d shared some shockingly intense intimacy with Rogan this weekend, too, and she just hadn’t imagined there wouldn’t even be a chance to say goodbye.

  But she knew almost immediately that it was best. And that maybe he’d done this for her, leaving so abruptly. Maybe Rogan really had changed, really could love her the right way now. She’d never know for sure. But that probably was best kept as one of life’s grand mysteries anyway. She was supposed to be with Ethan—she knew that now without a shred of doubt.

  After showing the note to him, she wondered aloud, “Will things be okay between the two of you now?”

  Ethan pursed his lips, then let out a long sigh. “They kinda have to be. We live in the same town, we play on the same team and hang with the same people, and he’s one of my academy buddies—no matter how ya slice it, he’s gonna be in my life a long time.”

  Now she did start thinking ahead a little. “Is it gonna be weird if I see him at a softball game and say hi? Because … it seems like it would be weirder if I don’t say hi.”

  Ethan gave a small nod. “I’ll keep my cool. And it’ll be easy, because I won.”

  She couldn’t help slanting him a look. “Ethan, it wasn’t a competition.” Though even as she spoke, she knew that, in a way, it had become that—but she just couldn’t see the good in acknowledging it. She just wanted to let the negative parts of this weekend pass away as peacefully as possible, for all of them.

  “And maybe when you go offering your girl up to another guy,” he went on, “you’re asking for something like this.”

  “Well, it’s over now,” she reminded him, and, unable to hide a naughty little grin, added, “And there were good parts.”

  “Damn right there were,” he said. “The only problem now might be that if I see you talking to him or looking at him, I might have to take you home and fuck your brains out to make sure you know you’re with the right guy.”

  She smiled up into his gorgeous blue eyes. “I already know. I’ll always know. But if fucking my brains out will make you feel better, I won’t argue.”

  “Damn straight you won’t,” he said in that same slightly commanding tone she’d had a few tastes of now, even though a hint of a grin tugged at his mouth this time.

  She bit her lip, thinking through all she’d learned about herself and her relationship with Ethan this weekend. She’d experienced moments when she’d wondered if normal, two-person sex could ever be as great now. But it was. Already. What they’d shared this weekend had made it more exciting, more intimate, more adventurous than she ever could have imagined.

  “You know, honey,” he said then, “I wanted to believe this weekend was all for you, or at least mostly for you, but I know now that it was just as much about … letting loose a darker part of me I didn’t even know existed, about needing to explore that, and … I guess, about needing more with you in some way.”

  She touched a hand to his chest. “I’m glad I know that darker part of you now, E. And I’m kind of loving it, too. And I’m glad we’ve both now officially met the darker parts of me, as well.”

  In response, he gave her a smile, along with a warm kiss that moved all through her.

  “So,” she said, looking around at the cabin that somewhere along the way had begun to resemble a pigsty, “I guess we should get this place cleaned up, then pack and hit the road home.”

  And she was surprised when Ethan let out a small laugh, until he said, “You wouldn’t believe how good it sounds to me just to spend the day doing regular, normal stuff with you.”

  She released a soft trill of laughter then, as well, because she agreed. A normal day—from this point forward anyway—would be nice.

  “I love the hot-and-dirty you,” he told her, “but I love the everyday, normal you just as much.”
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  And she concluded then that, really, that was what this all came down to. Finding the person in life who loved all of you—from the purest parts to the kinkiest—equally.

  And through the ups and downs of her most unusual and extreme birthday party, even through the jealousy and betrayal that had resulted, she knew they’d discovered new parts of themselves. What they’d done this weekend wasn’t about three people—it was about stepping outside the pre-set boundaries, about accepting their true sexual natures and letting their inhibitions go on the deepest level. And now that they’d done that, their sex life would be richer, they’d always be closer, and their passion for one another would run deeper.

  And all that aside, it had certainly been a birthday she’d never forget.

  About the Author

  Lacey Alexander’s books have been called deliciously decadent, unbelievably erotic, exceptionally arousing, blazingly sexual, and downright sinful. In each book, Lacey strives to take her readers on the ultimate erotic adventure, and she hopes her stories will encourage women to embrace their sexual fantasies. Lacey resides in the Midwest with her husband, and when not penning romantic erotica, she enjoys studying history and traveling, often incorporating favorite destinations into her work.

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  Read on for a special preview of the next H.O.T. Cops Novel by Lacey Alexander,

  Give in to Me

  Coming from Signet Eclipse in January 2013

  April Pediston regretted her business suit the moment she stepped into the Café Tropico, which, she instantly realized, was less a café and more your garden-variety bar and dance club. Not nearly as trendy—or classy—as most Ocean Avenue establishments, the Café Tropico had clearly been here a while, though she got the idea that its heyday had long since passed.

  “Table for two,” she told the skinny twentysomething hostess clad in a baby-doll tank and ultrashort cutoff jeans. She couldn’t help noticing the girl hadn’t bothered with a bra, and her nipples jutted prominently against the snug fabric. And the slightly perplexed look on the girl’s face as she led April to a table assured her that she looked just as out of place as she felt. But she’d come straight from work, and she was here on business, so she hadn’t given it a thought. Meetings outside the office were generally held at places where … well, where she wasn’t usually greeted by someone wearing so little.

  Warm night air—punctuated with just a hint of soft breeze blowing in from South Beach—permeated the partially open-air restaurant and reminded April that summer was descending on Miami. She’d always meant to move away, to someplace cooler, calmer. Although the feeling was vague and long-since accepted, despite being born and raised here, she’d never felt she fit in Miami any more than she fit in at the Café Tropico.

  Across the room, intimidating guys with tattoos and goatees drank beer and shot pool, the clack of the balls cutting through her thoughts, while a band set up instruments and sound equipment at the small stage in the distance. She was just beginning to wonder whether the Café Tropico actually served food—she hadn’t eaten, assuming that this was a dinner meeting—when the braless hostess returned with a menu and glass of water to inform her a waitress would be with her in a minute.

  “I’m meeting someone,” she replied, “so— Oh, here she is now.”

  She’d just looked up to see Kayla Gonzalez crossing the floor toward her, past one of several potted palm trees that actually gave the place a little tropical ambience. Kayla wore jeans and a tight tank top, her gaze—and entire countenance—as haggard as the last time April had seen her two years ago. Hair that had been black was now platinum blond with dark brown roots an inch long.

  As April greeted her, the other woman tried to smile, but the gesture didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Shall we order dinner before we talk business?” April suggested. She’d been on the run today and had eaten only a granola bar for lunch.

  When Kayla looked hesitant, though, April realized dinner hadn’t been on this evening’s agenda for the other woman. “I … probably shouldn’t.”

  Thinking maybe it was a matter of money, April smiled and said, “My treat.”

  As Kayla blinked, April saw some remnants of youthful beauty pass through her eyes. Whereas April was thirty-three, Kayla probably wasn’t yet thirty, but she looked far older. “That’s awful nice of you, but … I was hopin’ we could get right down to business. I don’t have much time.”

  April held back her sigh. Dinner could wait—whatever legal matter Kayla had called her here to discuss was clearly weighing on her. “Sure,” April said. “What can I do for you?”

  Kayla tossed quick, furtive glances back and forth across the room as if to make sure no one was watching as she leaned across the small table and said, just loud enough to be heard above the other noises in the room, “I want a divorce.”

  April wasn’t entirely surprised at this news, and in fact, she suspected it would be the smartest move Kayla would ever make. The last time she’d worked with Kayla—connecting via a women-helping-women group through which she did pro bono work—Kayla had been accused of stealing valuable equipment from the warehouse where she’d worked as a receptionist at the time. April had built a case proving that Kayla couldn’t have done it—not only had she had an alibi, but she was physically too small to have lifted and transported the generators and other heavy items taken. And though Kayla had maintained her innocence throughout, April had been torn between believing Kayla had just been a convenient target and worrying that Kayla’s husband had been involved in the theft. She’d met Juan Gonzalez only once, but he’d made a terrible impression, striking April as emotionally and possibly physically abusive.

  Even so, April tilted her head to explain, “Kayla, I wish I could help you, but I’m not a divorce lawyer. That’s not the kind of work I do. Though I can connect you with someone else through Women Helping Women.”

  Kayla’s eyes clouded over so darkly that April felt the woman’s response in her gut. “But … I want you. That’s why I called you on my own and didn’t go through the service—I didn’t want nobody else. You were so nice to me before. And … you don’t make me feel like … trash.” She’d whispered the last word as if it were an obscenity.

  As a pang of empathy shot through April’s core, she reached out to touch Kayla’s hand on the table. “Kayla, you shouldn’t ever let anyone make you feel like trash.”

  Yet Kayla’s expression stayed downcast, and even as April thought of her colleague at the firm who handled divorces for disenfranchised women for free, she knew Ellen did sometimes intimidate her less-confident clients. She never stopped to remember how fragile some of them were. And April clearly recalled how difficult it had seemed for Kayla to even look her in the eye when they’d first met two years ago. Now, since Kayla was comfortable with her but wouldn’t have that luxury with someone else … Well, she didn’t want to be responsible for the poor woman postponing her divorce, especially if her husband was abusive.

  “Please,” Kayla added then. “I really need your help.”

  April let out a breath and said, “I’ll need to get some guidance from my colleague.” Though hopefully it would be a simple thing, something cut-and-dried and easy for all involved. “But all right,” she said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’ll be my lawyer again?” Kayla asked, her eyes suddenly looking much brighter than they had since she’d arrived.

  April nodded reluctantly. “Sure.”

  After which Kayla thanked her profusely, now reaching out to squeeze April’s hand. “That’s such a relief,” she went on. “I’m strung out enough over this without havin’ to get to know somebody new. And like I said, you’ve always been so nice.”

  I really don’t need this added to my already stressful life. But if it will get you away from your scumbag of a husband a little faster, how can I say no? “I’m glad to help
,” she said instead. “Now, does your husband know you want a divorce?”

  Fresh panic seemed to seize Kayla’s body—she tensed visibly. “God, no. He’ll kill me.”

  April knew enough about women like Kayla to realize she wasn’t exaggerating. So she spoke calmly, hoping to calm Kayla, as well. “We’ll come up with a plan for telling him, preferably on the phone, after you have someplace else to stay. But first, as I said, I’ll need to confer with my colleague—then we’ll talk about how to move forward. Does that sound okay?”

  Kayla nodded.

  And April felt a little relaxed, perhaps for both of them. Or maybe she was just tired. And hungry. And now that she felt their business had officially concluded … “You know,” she said, “I’m really starving, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to order dinner. You’re more than welcome to join me if you’d like.”

  Like before, Kayla glanced nervously around the bar, which April realized had begun to get more crowded in just the few minutes since they’d started talking. Why was Kayla so paranoid? Did people here know her? Or her husband? Maybe it hadn’t occurred to Kayla that April would stand out in the crowd so much in her professional attire, possibly drawing more attention to them than Kayla had bargained for.

  “Or if you need to leave,” April added, wanting to give her an easy out, “that’s no problem at all.”

  She saw Kayla glance to a clock behind the bar before she said, “Um, I guess I can hang out for a few more minutes.”