Madison's Quest

by Jory Strong

  Each slam of his pelvis, each plunge of his cock had her rocketing higher and higher. Until there was no escape but total surrender.

  The clamp of her inner muscles on his cock had his head going back, his hot release filling her while the agonized expression of pleasure on Tyler’s face touched her heart like a brand.

  Slowly her legs unlocked and slid along his.

  Her feet reached the floor.

  “I might have to go back to bed now so I can recover from that,” he murmured against her lips.

  “We’ve got a clue to solve.” But her arms remained around his neck, holding off reality.

  “Mouth-to-mouth resuscitation might revive me,” he said.

  “We can give it a try.”

  His lips parted beneath hers, remaining that way until the threat of cold water finally drove them from the shower.

  “Meet you in the kitchen,” Tyler said, giving her one last, lingering kiss before leaving.

  She dealt with her hair, not taking the time to get it completely dry. She got dressed, the pleasure of being with Tyler riding along the edges of an ache centered in her chest that came with wanting more, with knowing she couldn’t have it, not yet anyway.

  When she stepped into the kitchen, Kiki and Daisy left Tyler to greet her. They danced around her feet, their shining eyes and wagging tails making it easy to cover the ache with a heartfelt smile, to live in the moment the way they did.

  Tyler’s arms went around her. “Tell me you’re not wearing boy shorts.”

  “I’d be lying. They’re light blue today, by the way.”

  His laugh was part moan.

  She grinned. “I guess I could always go commando.”

  “Trying to work and knowing that would be worse.”

  “Really?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “Girls need their ego strokes too.”

  He kissed her, long and slow and deep.

  “I’ll remember that,” he said, staring into her eyes and creating a swell of panic.

  What was she going to do about him? About this? About Shane?

  He released her.

  “I’m not much of a cook,” he said. “But I know for a fact I’ve got cereal, milk, eggs, and bread.”

  “You like French toast?”

  His smile smothered the panic.

  “Are you offering to cook?”

  “Least I can do considering the great hospitality.”

  “I definitely aim to please at Casa Tyler.”

  “Is that a hint that boys also need their egos stroked?”

  His eyes were like sunlight dancing on the ocean. “Boy egos are a lot easier to stroke.”

  She laughed, tempted to open his jeans and do just that. “If you want me to cook breakfast, you’d better show me the goods, and by that, I mean the stuff I need to slave over a hot stove for you, not the stuff I’ve already seen.”

  “Spoilsport.” But he showed her where to find what she needed then moved on to feed the dogs and start the coffee.

  Her phone rang with an unfamiliar ringtone.

  Her blood converged and turned cold in the vicinity of her heart.

  She pulled her cellphone from a pocket and looked at the screen. The area code was the same she’d dialed yesterday when she called Bulldog.

  Relief swept in. She answered. Shane said, “You ready to get back to work?”

  Her hand tightened on the phone, a shiver of nervousness going through her now that the moment of truth as to whether or not Shane was really okay with her sleeping with Tyler was imminent.

  “Anytime. I’m making breakfast.”

  “Be right there.”

  She slid the phone back into her pocket, called herself a coward for not looking at Tyler when she said, “Shane’s on his way.”

  The sound of a key going into the front door lock served as punctuation.

  She traced the scooped neckline of her tank top and decided to let Tyler’s behavior around Shane guide hers.

  “I take it he’s got a key,” she said to mask the uncertainty of what she was going to do about him, about them.

  “We’ve all got keys to each other’s places, just in case. Not that Shane, Lyric or Braden actually need keys.”

  Shane caught the comment as he stepped into Tyler’s house.

  “True,” he said, joining them in the kitchen, realization slamming into him with Tyler’s attempt at a poker face and Madison’s quick smile and even quicker attention to her cooking.

  Fuck. They’d slept together.

  He’d known it might happen. He’d wanted it to happen.

  So why did he feel a gut-twisting burn of jealousy?

  Maybe because he wasn’t the first to have Madison. Maybe because she’d had Tyler first. Maybe because they’d been together while he was at home with his hand.

  It was like a multiple-choice question. He’d hated them in school. He hated them now.

  The only possible answer was act normal, act cool.

  Hard to do when he noticed her hair was wet and so was Tyler’s, when he imagined them doing it in the shower and that sent raw need surging to his dick.

  He crouched to greet the girls wriggling at his feet. Took a minute to get his shit together.

  He was the one on the outside of this. He needed to be the one to make it easy for them to let him inside.

  Heat seared through him with the thought of joining the two of them in bed, but at the same time, his heart felt like it wanted to burst through his chest wall and run for the door.

  It was one thing to tell himself Grandma Maguire had probably orchestrated this, and the three of them were meant to be together. It was a whole other thing to actually come out of the closet. There’d be no going back if Tyler was straight and figured out that the boner wasn’t just for Madison.

  He couldn’t trust himself to be with her at the same time Tyler was. All he had to do was remember that last time in Vegas, shooting his load and moaning Tyler’s name.

  What he needed to do was throttle back. Wait until he got her alone, or until she touched him first before picking up where they’d left off. And if she did that, with Tyler there, then he’d have to pretend Tyler was Braden and work up some brotherly feelings.

  He huffed out a breath. Right.

  But he could do this. He had to. He needed to let the hand play out a little bit before raising the stakes.

  He gave Daisy and Kiki a final rub behind their ears then rose from the crouch.

  “You want French toast?” Madison asked.

  “Yeah, sure. I’d love some.”

  What he really wanted was the same fit they’d had yesterday.

  “First batch is almost ready. You guys might want to get the drinks on and the table set.”

  Her voice sounded like she was trying for normal too. It helped.

  He gave his hands a quick wash then went to the fridge. He opened it and pulled out a carton of OJ and the tub of butter, putting them on the table then snagging glasses.

  Tyler took care of the napkins and silverware, then got the coffee while he found the syrup, and finally the laptop and clue.

  Madison served the food, and didn’t it feel like they were a little family unit?

  His heart spasmed with the same longing he’d had the night before, watching big brother with Renata.

  The first bite of French toast melted on his tongue.

  “I could get used to this,” Tyler said, and Shane heard so many meanings there that the ache deepened.

  He dragged the clue closer. Read it between bites of the best French toast he’d ever tasted.

  From coast to coast, 2903 miles mark the distance. By air, by train, or on asphalt highways, the bounty of the San Joaquin travels. Two thirds of it is hidden from sight, but offer the first and the rest is revealed.

  He groaned. “This makes my brain hurt. I’d rather have a hangover.”

  Madison laughed and Tyler said, “I’d rather you didn’t. You’re miserabl
e to be around when you’ve got one.”

  And just like that, the easiness slotted back into place. The last of the tightness left his chest.

  Madison lifted a glass of OJ to her mouth, the movement of her throat mesmerizing him, taking him in a direction that made the jeans more uncomfortable.

  It was going to be a long, hard day.

  “Either of you come up with anything new?” he asked.

  “Let’s ignore the first line,” Tyler said. “It’s safe to say Bio-dad doesn’t want Madison to go on a coast-to-coast road trip, so let’s assume the only thing important is the number.”

  Shane looked at the clue. By air, by train, or on asphalt highways. “An airport? A train station? Totally not helpful. The days of lockers you can stash your belongings in are gone.”

  Madison’s fork clattered onto her plate. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of this last night. A post office. Or one of those places where you can rent a box.”

  Shane was gratified to see a mystified expression on Tyler’s face, and have him be the one to say, “Right. It’s totally obvious. Mind explaining?”

  Madison’s laugh had them both smiling, both leaning toward her.

  “Okay, maybe it’s not exactly a stretch that none of us came up with it last night. But planes, trains, trucks traveling, carrying something that needs to be delivered. Right? And delivered made me think—”

  “Mail going from post office to post office,” Tyler said. “And even without a key, if you have the box number and ID, and you’re listed on the paperwork, you could gain access.”

  “I doubt I’ll need more than my name. Offer the first and the rest is revealed.”

  Shane felt the buzz of being on the right track. His gut said it wouldn’t be an official box. “It’s going to be a private rental, not the USPS. A lot less complicated to arrange, especially if you want to hide the name of the person who actually rented it.”

  “Maybe the 2903 ties into the address, or the box number,” Tyler said. “If we’re talking Bay Area, or maybe the San Joaquin, there are going to be hundreds of those private mailbox rental places. It’d make sense that the rest of the clue is meant to help narrow the search.”

  Shane popped the last bite of French toast into his mouth. It was as good as the first. “If Bio-dad went to all the trouble to make it easy to get into the school, he’s not going to want Madison to lose days looking for the right box.”

  Madison spun her orange juice glass on the table. “So maybe the location of this box is tied into the bounty of the San Joaquin. Nuts. Fruits. Vegetables.”

  “Ultimately going to market,” Tyler said, triumph in his voice. “Market Street, probably in San Francisco.”

  “Score!” Shane pumped his fist then pulled the laptop over.

  A few minutes later he had five possibilities.

  “You coming with us?” he asked Tyler, heat rushing through him as he forced himself to meet Tyler’s gaze as if nothing had changed between last night and this morning.

  “I’ve got a morning appointment I can’t ditch. Okay if we hook up later?”

  “No problem.”

  Lie. But not because he didn’t want Tyler with them.

  Shane carried his dishes to the sink. They joined him, the three of them doing the little family unit thing again, cleaning up, putting stuff away, the casual brush of Tyler’s body against Madison’s cranking him up and playing with his head so he wasn’t positive he wouldn’t do something stupid if Tyler kissed her.

  Stupid, as in, crowding close. Replacing Tyler’s mouth with his. The two of them alternating until that instant when Tyler didn’t get out of the way fast enough, and their lips touched, their tongues rubbed.

  The image of it brought a hot flash and sent his heart racing. “I’ll wait for you in the Jeep,” he told Madison. “I’m going to give Bulldog a call, bring him up to date.”

  He escaped.

  Madison offered no resistance when Tyler cupped her hips and pulled her close. He rubbed his mouth against hers, the hint of vulnerability in his eyes flipping her heart.

  “I’m not sorry about what happened,” he said.

  “Neither am I.”

  He glanced in the direction of the front door. “He wants to pick up where he left off last night, only he doesn’t know how to fit me into it, that’s my take on why he just bolted. We’ve never done that, been involved with the same woman at the same time.”

  Tyler didn’t sound as if he objected. When his eyes returned to hers, she didn’t see protest in them. But the word involved brought back the conflicted feelings she’d experienced when she woke in bed with him, what should be dominating her thoughts—getting home, pursuing her music—versus what actually was, him, Shane, them.

  “I’d better get going,” she said.

  His hands moved from her hips to her back, stroked upward. His mouth settled on hers in a slow, thorough kiss that said don’t forget me while you’re with him.

  I won’t she answered with the rub of her tongue, with the cling of lips.

  She pressed her body to his, initiated the second kiss.

  Stayed for a third before finally separating and saying, “See you in a little while.”

  “Good hunting.”

  “Thanks,” she said, admitting silently that she wanted to get to the end of Bio-dad’s quest—and she didn’t, and not because she didn’t want to meet him.

  Shane was in the driver’s seat, head tipped back, eyes closed. It was impossible to keep her gaze from going to the very obvious bulge at the front of his jeans then back to his face.

  Conscience, or maybe the need to get everything out in the open prompted her to say, “So we’re good?”

  His eyes snapped open, full of stormy blue heat. “It depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On this,” he said, turning, reaching, his fingers spearing through her hair, his hand fisting it, drawing her forward for the slam of his mouth against hers, the fierce thrust of his tongue against hers.

  Heat poured into her, the same as she’d experienced the night before, because being with Tyler hadn’t diminished her desire for Shane. It’d only made her want him more.

  She moaned and the kiss deepened, the grip in her hair tightened. Thrust and slide became the promise that next time, neither of them would stop.

  They broke apart, panting, still parked in front of Tyler’s house.

  Had he seen?

  Did it matter?

  No. When she searched her heart, she didn’t think it did.

  “Let’s find whatever Bio-dad left for you,” Shane said, husky-voiced. “Then we can go to my place.”

  She tugged the seatbelt, put it on.

  Shane started the Jeep and pulled away from the curb.

  And again, something compelled her to say, “For the record, I’m pretty sure Tyler is okay with this.”

  The grind of gears had her trying to read Shane’s expression—and failing—which had to be a tell, right? Otherwise, why put on the poker face?

  It was easy enough to guess.

  She’d exposed her fantasy about being with two guys at once when they’d been looking at Tyler’s art.

  They’d avoided physical contact as if they were fighting an attraction.

  She didn’t understand why they’d bother—except, she suddenly did.

  Giving in to physical desire changed things. She only had to look in the mirror to face that truth.

  Coming to California was supposed to be a short detour to get her parents out of debt, to keep them from losing the house. Then when the fear of losing her father abated enough, she’d return to Miami and do what she’d been doing since eighteen.

  Everything had been so clear. But getting involved with Shane and Tyler was like fog obliterating the horizon.

  There was that word again. Involved.

  She caught herself rubbing her palms against her jeans. Felt the fierce urge to anchor herself by calling her parents, by checking on her
dad. But if she did, they’d ask her questions.

  Had she met her potential bandmates yet? Had a time been set for them to play together?

  Call and the guilt created by the initial deception would be compounded by more lies. Worse, she’d be reminded of how much they were hoping for her success, that they were waiting to hear all about it—and she couldn’t tell them the truth. Not yet. Not over the phone.

  Shane parked in front of a place advertising rental mailboxes. He snagged her hand. “You okay?”

  “Thinking about my parents.”

  “Good thoughts?”

  “Worried thoughts. They’re the reason I agreed to jump through Bio-dad’s hoops.”

  She couldn’t honestly say they were the entire reason she was doing it now.

  “You want to call them? I’ll get out of the Jeep, give you some privacy.”

  “It can wait.”

  They went in.

  The boxes were all beyond the counter. The woman working behind it had purple hair, a lip ring and looked at them as if they were strange for thinking that producing a name and out-of-state driver’s license would magically have her handing over a key.

  They returned to the Jeep. Shane said, “How about a little bet?”

  Madison laughed. “I’m already holding your marker for two hundred.”

  “I can make you forget that two hundred.” He leaned over and licked her earlobe. “I can make you think it’s been paid in full.”

  She grinned, heat flushing through her. He really was irresistible.

  “I’m sure you can, so that’s a no-go. What bet did you have in mind?”

  “Two hundred says we hit the jackpot on the fourth stop.”

  “Just to be clear, we’re talking the fourth, including this one? Or the fourth from now?”

  “The fourth including this one.”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Feeling wild today, huh?”

  He flicked his tongue in and out of her ear, causing things low and deep to coil and burn.

  “Yes,” she admitted, hearing the need in her voice, knowing he could see it in the press of hard nipples against soft tank top.

  Shane groaned and retreated to his side of the Jeep. “You’re killing me.”