Three Men and a Woman_Indiana

by Rachel Billings

  It felt that way, anyway, as he tenderly took her down onto the bed. As he loved her, touching and stroking, kissing—as though they had all night, or all their lives. Without the wild, mad rush that felt barely on the edge of control.

  For the first time, when he filled her, they were in the missionary position. She moaned, loving having him there above her, kissing her, gazing at her. He thrust into her, starting gently.

  “Your knee really is better,” she said with a smile.

  “Good thing,” he said, one hand finding its way to her breast. “I really like this.”

  She did, too. It felt so lovely to be wrapped in his arms, to have him surround her, contain her. To kiss him as he kissed her, to gaze back at him in the same way he gazed at her.

  He took them slowly to their peaks, using his body and his words to drive her. It came to a frenzy at last, Sig wildly thrusting and Indy rocking beneath him, shuddering and groaning out her pleasure. He had his big hand on her head at the end, turning her to face him where he’d burrowed into the bed above her shoulder. They watched, each of them riveted, eyes open to each other even as they went over.

  “Mmm. Hmm.” Indy was slow to catch her breath, but she was aware he still watched her intently.

  “When I come back later this week,” he said, his hand still holding her to him, “I want to stop using a condom. I’ll get tested while I’m gone, if you want me to.”

  She took a couple more breaths, wondering how he could speak while she felt barely coherent. “I’ll do the same.”

  He nodded his agreement.

  “And get on birth control,” she added.

  “If you want to. I don’t care so much about that.”

  She knew her eyes widened. “Sigge.”

  “I love you, Indiana. I’m all in.”

  “Oh, jeez.”

  He grinned and lifted off her, somewhat discreetly shucking the condom and dropping it over the side of the bed before he lay back and tucked her into him. She dozed off in his arms.

  And woke, sometime later, to a heavy knock at her door.

  * * * *

  Sigge kissed Indy’s forehead when she startled and tightened his arms to keep her tucked against him. “I’ll get it,” he told her. “You stay here.”

  He wasn’t surprised—he’d almost been waiting for it, in fact—when he’d heard Ty’s truck drive up, two doors open and close, and two sets of footsteps climb up to Indy’s front door.

  The three guys had unsatisfactorily passed the day on Saturday, eating out twice, working out, gaming in their suite, and hoping to hear from Indy. They couldn’t go through it again on Sunday, so they asked for a late checkout, and Ty and J.J. decided to occupy themselves with one last day on the slopes. Sig let them know he had plans to take dinner to Indy if she didn’t initiate contact. He’d eventually dressed, loaded his gear, checked out, and taken himself up the mountain.

  Now they’d done the same. Once he’d slid into his pants and come to the door, he found them both standing there with overnight bags slung at their shoulders.

  He might have stood there longer, blocking the door to a place that wasn’t even his, but he was mostly naked and it was shrinkage-degrees below zero out there. So, not entirely happy, he stepped back and let them in.

  Tyler made himself at home, kicking out of his fancy, overpriced cowboy boots and hooking his coat. He wandered over to the table and helped himself to dinner leftovers.

  J.J. was a bit more polite about it, waiting at the entry until Sig gave him a nod. Sig went to grab a blanket to wrap around his shoulders while Jage toed out of his shoes and hung his nice coat on the fourth and final hook at the door. Sig wondered if that coincidence meant something.

  “Where’re we at?” J.J. asked when Sig turned back to him.

  Ty stopped chowing down to wait for Sig’s answer.

  “She hasn’t said no,” he told them. “I think she’s agreed to just…see what happens.”

  “And what do you say?” Ty asked bluntly. “You just fucked her. You gonna take a little nap down here while one of us goes up and has a turn at her?”

  Sig took a breath, holding Ty in a hard glare until he subsided with a wave of his hand. “Sorry. I know that’s not what this is.”

  “I think maybe I can live with it,” Sig said with one more look at Ty before he turned to J.J., too. “Is this what we want?”

  Ty cleaned up and tossed a napkin down on the table. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess it is.”

  J.J. was nodding. “Yes.”

  “Compersion,” Sig said to himself. “It’s a bitch.”

  “Yeah? What is it?”

  Sig looked at J.J. “I’ll explain later. Let me try something.”

  He dropped the blanket and went back upstairs, leaving the lights off. He went to Indy’s bed and sat, then leaned over her onto his elbows. In the dim light, he could just see her eyes watching him.

  “It’s Ty and J.J.,” he said, though he was sure she knew. He heard her swallow.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Sig nodded. “How about…” he started. “How about you just stay here? How about…we try this?” Leaning away, he reached over to the chair where most of his clothes had landed. He took his silk tie and slid it through his fingers. He came back over her and rubbed it along her cheek, then took it up to her temple.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  He could see she understood his intent.

  “I think…I think if I mean to say yes, I should just say yes.”

  “It’s not so simple though, is it? This might be easier. I’ll just do this.” He waited, and, after a moment, she lifted her head, let her eyes fall closed, and allowed him to tie the silk around to blindfold her He leaned in and kissed her when she rested her head back down. “I’ll just go downstairs. And you’ll remember I love you.”

  * * * *

  Indy let him go. He’d have stayed, she knew, if she’d asked him to. He hadn’t forced her to lift her head or to submit as he covered her eyes.

  But he was right, it was easier.

  She hadn’t said no to it, hadn’t quite wanted to, but she couldn’t find it in her to say yes either.

  So she’d let him—let them—decide.

  She lay there, naked except for a silk tie, not even covered with a blanket, not needing it since she’d warmed the house more than usual when Sig had told her he was coming. When she’d decided to dress up as he’d instructed and wasn’t about to cover up her sexiest little black dress with a couple layers of sweaters.

  So she was there, passive to it, not objecting, when someone came into her room. She heard him close the door behind him and then listened while he undressed himself and…opened a condom packet. Her breath was shallow, and it caught when she felt his weight on the bed. He moved over her, not touching until she felt the heat of him, the hard muscles of his arms, at either side along her thighs. He held her, keeping her legs together, and she felt nothing more until his tongue stroked her clit.

  She jerked up, almost sitting, breathing roughly and covering her mouth with her hands. He said nothing and did nothing, waiting for her to decide. Moaning out short, quick breaths, she tried to steady herself. Finally, finding her courage, she let herself back down.

  He took it as permission. He was on her then, his tongue skilled and greedy, his lips determined. He did nothing but work her clit, efficiently, ruthlessly, driving her to orgasm.

  She’d kept her hands over her mouth, so her moans were muted as she came, her body shuddering. He rested his head on her belly as she eased with it, her breath slowing and the tension in her muscles releasing. He nuzzled and kissed her until she stilled again.

  Then he lifted up, strong and athletic, and used his knees to open hers. Between her legs, he found her. With no other touch, his cock pressed at her opening.

  He was over her now, his weight on his arms, but close, so she felt his breath on her lips.

  “Do you want this, Ind
iana?”

  Her hands fell to the bed beside her head. With one single breath she found the heart to accept, to answer. “Yes.”

  He was closer still, almost so she could feel the movement of his lips with hers. “Say my name.”

  “J—James.”

  She knew it was J.J., of course. She’d known somehow when he’d first come into her room. It was a good guess that Sig and Tyler would concede to the one of them who hadn’t yet been with her. But it was more than a guess. She’d known.

  She’d heard it the quiet tread of his steps, his gentle breaths as he undressed. She’d recognized his scent and the hot touch of his skin when he came to her.

  She’d known.

  And he understood that she did.

  He held where he was, just at the opening to her pussy, letting her know he would have her. But he lowered his head that last half inch so he could kiss her. He was sweet about it, even on that edge of penetration, letting her know his feelings, too.

  He was gentle, seductive, holding over her like he could manage it for hours without breaking a sweat, which was probably true. He did nothing more until her breath quickened again and one hand lifted, fluttering off the bed.

  “Touch me,” he said.

  And she did, moving her hands to learn him—his hot skin, his hard muscles. So much like Sig and Tyler, and so different, too. So much himself.

  “James,” she murmured, the fingers of one hand twined into his braids. The other was stroking over his chest, sliding along hard pecs, combing through the few tight curls in the center.

  “Indiana,” he said.

  Then he took her. Slowly, letting her feel each inch of length, each centimeter of width, he filled her. With a rough growl, he let himself down, less weight on his arms and more on her. He captured her mouth with his and shifted so he could cover her breast with one hand. He held there, impaling her, connecting them completely, and using his thumb to torture her nipple.

  All the while, with no other movement, their need grew. She knew it in her own body, and she felt it in his—the tensing of his muscles and breath. Wallowing in it, pleasured by it, Indy ran her hands over him. Gripping the hard bulges of his massive biceps, chafing over his huge shoulders, sliding down the thick muscles of his back and skimming her nails over his skin as she ran her fingers up.

  “Ahh.” That last graze of her nails on his back sent him over. With one more moan, he flexed, drawing most of the way out of her. Then he thrust in, filling her completely like he had before, and grinding, went even deeper. He did it again, and again.

  He lifted up and slid Sig’s tie from her eyes. He was there, then, looking at her, looking entirely as though he loved her as he…made love to her.

  He kept a grip on her nipple but clenched his other fingers into her hair. His sexy brown eyes held hers, his breath stole hers. Just like that, watching her, he fucked her, taking them both up. He worked into her, his size stretching her, stimulating every nerve. “J.J.,” she panted. Her heels dug into the bed, pushing up so she could take more of him, all of him. Her nails scored him. “Oh. Oh.”

  His skin was slick and hot with the work he did. His breath was rough like hers.

  She said his name again, and he said hers. Then they were frantic with it, over-the-top, his body pistoning into hers, hard orgasms bearing down on them. He went up on his knees and slid his arm under her hips to hold him to her. They were both crying out with his final, hard thrusts, both spasming and shuddering in…joy.

  He growled as he emptied into her, the hard spurt of his cum known to her even through the condom. Urgent, feral sounds from his throat tapered away, and he collapsed down onto her.

  Both of them were rent, ruined, spent. With spastic movements and panting breaths, he moved to her side, disposed of the condom, and pulled her into him. He held her with lax muscles as they slowly recovered.

  In the end, he had his fingers lightly stroking the back of her neck. “I feel like I’ve been waiting for that for a long time,” he said.

  She smiled. It had been less than a week since she’d seen him in the grocery store, but she knew that wasn’t what he meant.

  Though he was remembering that encounter, she understood, when he spoke. “I knew your ass was sweet. I called it, didn’t I?”

  She looked up as he tightened his abs and leaned in to kiss her. “You did. You were right about the size of those cucumbers, too. Little.”

  “Tiny,” he said with a grin.

  “Minute.”

  “Almost microscopic.”

  They both giggled. Looking more than satisfied, he put his head on a pillow, the smile lingering on his face. He had both arms around her, holding her close. “This is good,” he said. “Don’t worry. It will work out.”

  They both closed their eyes.

  * * * *

  Tyler was down the hall, not very comfortable in a bed that was entirely too small for a man his size. He’d found it tucked into a sort of cabinet and had figured out how to work it, how the cabinet opened and the bed came down on a frame that might or might not hold up to what he intended to happen there in another little bit.

  Sig had hobbled down the stairs in his dress pants, his shirt and suit jacket over one shoulder, just a few minutes after he’d left J.J. and Ty in the living room. The three of them had looked at each other for a minute like they weren’t exactly sure of their next move. But they all knew Ty was their man of action, so he didn’t wait long.

  He said, “There’s a guest bedroom behind the kitchen,” and he was speaking to Sig. He pointed to the door that led there from the far side of the living area. It was a suite, in fact, and the best place to sleep outside of Indy’s bed, so it was no small thing that he offered it up to Sig. Sigge was the biggest of them, and a bit lame, and leaving early in the morning, so it made sense.

  It was also an invitation for the big guy to butt out now, and they were all aware of it. Things seemed a little dicey for a minute, but, finally, with an unhappy nod, Sig relented. “I’ll go there. I’ll be gone in the morning,” he said. “Probably be back Wednesday or Thursday.”

  Thursday at best, Ty figured. Sigge’s coaches and managers weren’t going to take any chances with their star defensive end, regardless of how much he’d be wanting to get his ass back to a girl in Vail. Ty nodded, and, with whatever other shit was in that big brain of his still there, Sig headed to the door.

  That left Ty and J.J.

  J.J. stood and gave Ty a look that indicated he felt he’d waited long enough. And, since the guy was a good friend and not in the least an asshole, Ty caved. So he watched J.J. go up the stairs and then, kind of shutting down the house like he belonged there, even cleaning up the kitchen, he went up, too.

  Once he got the bed set up, he found the remote for the TV in the corner. He didn’t even want to think about whether he could hear what was going down in the master suite across the hall. But he looked around a bit, poking his nose a little into Indy’s life. It was obvious this room served as her office, and he suspected she wrote there too at the table overlooking the woods to the back of the house.

  Without too much shame—she was, after all, going to be his woman—he opened her neatly organized file drawers and found, among contracts and copyrights and shit, some royalty statements informing him that writing romance novels could be nearly as profitable as playing football. The guys wouldn’t have to worry that she was after their money.

  He’d seen her e-reader next to her bed that first night. But in this room, she had a shelf of paperbacks all looking new, like maybe they hadn’t even been read. They were hers, he realized, quite a long row of them. And then three other women authors. All romance, he noted, but other…subgenres, he supposed would be the term. Indy’s were contemporary stories featuring cops and athletes and, it appeared, smart, hot women. One other set looked historical, with English dukes and gigantic old mansions with ballrooms. Another group appeared to be sci-fi, grouped into two or three different series. T
he last bunch were a bit scary, with shape-shifters like werewolves and predatory-looking men—two or three or more of them to every scantily dressed woman. He glanced through a couple of those enough to know the sex scenes were hot, so he took one along as he went to lie down on the bed.

  He didn’t try opening up the laptop on her desk. Even if she didn’t have it passcode protected, he figured trying to get a look at her current work might be a little too far over the line he’d already crossed. He was dying to know if she was weaving a story about a big, handsome, hazel-eyed football player, but he understood that writers could be touchy about that sort of thing.

  The TV had been set to a news channel, and he left it there without much interest. And then no interest at all as he dug into the book. After a while, he was skipping some of the story to get to the good parts, and, a bit after that, he decided he’d given J.J. enough time.

  He flicked off the TV, peeled down to nothing but his jeans, and went into the hall. He paused just long enough at Indy’s door to make sure he wouldn’t totally embarrass himself—or her and J.J. When he opened it, he saw them by the scant light of the fire, sweetly snuggled together, asleep.

  He stood there for a moment, wondering what he was doing.

  A lot of what he saw felt exactly right to him. He’d been in this room before, with its big lake of a bed and windows on three sides opening to the tips of fir trees and a stunning view of the Rockies. He’d felt the warmth and enjoyed the soft light from the practical but also pretty fireplace.

  He’d been with the woman.

  He’d woken beside her that morning with the entirely unfamiliar desire to stay just where he was, and, pretty much every minute since then, he’d spent regretting his panic about it.

  He’d tried and failed to keep Sig from knowing he’d spent the night with Indy, a woman Sig had already tried to claim. He’d tried and failed to act like he didn’t care when he was sure Sig had gone to her bed after Ty had, pretending it meant nothing during that long day they spent together in Denver.