She’d have to get clarification later.
Rusty, then Eliza, hugged her. “Glad you came?” Eliza asked.
“Yes, thank you.” She pointed over her shoulder at the men, who were saying good-bye to Tilly and her guys. “I’m guessing you’re signing off on them, since you haven’t made any protests.”
Eliza grinned and playfully smacked her shoulder. “If I’d known you wanted to explore the kink pond, I would have shoved you together with them a looong time ago, honey.”
Once they were on their way, Cody riding in the backseat, she tried to digest everything she’d seen and learned that night.
“We didn’t irretrievably screw up something that might have developed between us, did we?” Justin asked her.
“No, just…processing. And we’re close to my bedtime, so, frankly, it’s hard for me to process anything right now.”
At her house, they insisted on getting out and walking her up to her front door. Which she found incredibly sweet and adorable, considering what she now knew about these two men.
“Thank you for tonight,” she said. “This was nice.”
“Thank you for this morning,” Justin said. “We had a lot of fun.” Cody nodded.
“May I?” Justin asked, holding his arms out.
She nodded, lingering in his embrace as he hugged her.
Then she looked up, met his gaze, and rose up on her tiptoes to brush a kiss across his lips.
Cody was ready for her, too, but he didn’t try to deepen the kiss, a perfectly gentlemanly kind of good-night.
“Good night,” she said. “See you guys tomorrow.”
“Good night,” they parroted, making her smile.
Once she was inside and had the alarm off and the door locked behind her, they headed back to their car and she watched from the front window as their taillights disappeared down the street.
From on the couch, Dixon maowed at her. Then he stood, stretched, jumped over to the coffee table, and stepped on the TV remote.
The screen came on.
She cocked her head at him. “Asshole.”
“Maow!” he squeaked.
Chapter Twelve
All day Sunday, Brooke thought about Cody and Justin. From the awesome morning they’d had together yesterday, the initially awkward meeting at the club…to what they’d talked about at the club, and the things she’d witnessed.
And their sweet good-night kisses when they walked her to her door.
If they were just gay…
But they liked sleeping with women…
Specifically, they liked sharing a woman…
Except for the fact she wasn’t exactly looking to be dominated by one man, much less two.
Maybe they could strike some sort of balance between the extremes. Maybe she could get into a little harmless role-playing in bed if they wanted to take her on.
Of course, they hadn’t really seen her yet.
The real her.
The naked her.
They might get one look at her carved up gams and decide nope, they were good with just being friends.
Only one way to tell.
She normally didn’t wear shorts except around the house. Besides the fact that she wasn’t supposed to get too much sun on her legs because of the scars, she didn’t like the stares she received. She didn’t go swimming, except to the beach sometimes, and even then she just waded and wore clam-diggers that covered the worst of her scars. When it was really hot and she needed to run weekend errands, she had several long, swirling skirts that provided a comfortable breeze without exposing her to looks. When she ran, she had hot-weather leggings, and cold-weather leggings she wore under her running shorts.
Dammit, it’s my house.
Shorts it was.
She texted back and forth with both men all day, friendly chatter that somehow slipped into playful banter, missed the stop at sexy innuendo, and headed at full speed toward blatant flirting.
She hoped she didn’t disappoint them, but then again, what was that old bullshit about nothing ventured? At least, if nothing else, she had a couple of new friends to hang with who might help steer her toward meeting someone in this kinky landscape she was slowly venturing into.
At the most, she might be able to check something off her sexual bucket list that, until recently, she was pretty much dead-certain would only ever exist in her imagination and on her Kindle.
The men arrived a little after six thirty, bearing pizzas, wings, and garlic knots that made her mouth water just from the delicious aroma. It smelled good enough that she was almost able to forget feeling self-conscious about her scars.
Cody leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “Ready for the pizzapocalypse?”
“Pizzapocalypse?”
“Yeah,” Justin said. “We’ll be in a food coma by the time the show comes on. Where do you want everything?”
“Just put it on the coffee table.” She’d already laid out paper plates, napkins, and silverware for them there.
Cody set the pizza boxes on the table, while Justin put down the wings and garlic knots. She saw the look on Cody’s face first, when he didn’t stand up right away. Instead, he carefully schooled his expression before slowly straightening and staring her directly in the eyes.
Nervous fear washed through her. “Yeah?” She was too scared to look at Justin and see his expression.
Cody reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, kissing it. “If you think a few scars are going to scare us or turn us off,” he softly said, “think again. We’re not immature boys. We’re men who know a real woman when we see one. A beautiful, sexy woman.”
* * * *
Holy…fuck.
Justin hadn’t realized what Cody was talking about.
At first.
Then, while Cody was delivering what Justin had to admit was a damned good response, his gaze traveled down her legs.
Yes, she’d told them about being wounded.
Her left leg bore several long, straight vertical scars that he imagined were where the pins had been put in. He could see the pale, silvery look of the burns, and several other scars that were probably from shrapnel.
He rounded the table while her gaze was firmly focused on Cody and stepped behind her, placing his hands on her hips and hoping he wasn’t about to fuck up a potentially really good thing for all three of them.
“He’s right,” Justin said. “You’re beautiful. Your scars are only part of you, of who you are.”
The tremor in her soft voice ripped at his soul. When had he started the hard, fast, heart-first slide toward being in love with her?
“Some of my scars you can’t see. My PTSD isn’t as bad as it used to be, but sometimes I still trigger. I can’t stand to fly, so if you like to travel, I hope you don’t mind driving if you want to take a trip with me. And I don’t know how submissive I can be for you guys. If you’re okay with all of that…”
Justin slid his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. “We’re fine with you exactly how you are right now,” he softly said.
Cody captured her other hand and stepped closer, pressing them against his chest. “We’re not going anywhere. If you decide you’d like to fool around with us, well, we’re cool with that. If you decide you want to try anything you’ve seen at the club, we’re cool with that, too. We don’t have any expectations with this. The only thing we ask for, that we won’t budge on, is that if you do decide you want to fool around with us, you have to be monogamous to us while we’re doing this.”
Justin couldn’t see her face, but the doubt hung in her voice. “That’s all?”
“Yeah,” Justin said. “It’s actually a big deal for us. Well, that, and total honesty.”
She snorted. “Well, that’s not a problem for me,” she said. “The monogamy. Or the honesty. It’s been years since I was with anyone.”
“Ooh.” Justin felt his cock stir at that and had to fight not to grind his hips against her ass. �
��Then we’ll have a lot of fun with you if you decide you want to do that.”
“What about what you guys said about playing with other people?”
“That’s not sex,” Cody said. “And if you ever decided you wanted to play with someone, as long as we all talk about it first, that’s fine. Just like if you decide you’d like to be with us, you’d get to have veto power over who we play with.”
“See,” Justin added, “that’s why we can honestly say if you don’t want to be submissive to us, or do any BDSM play with us, we’re fine with that. Because we can always play with someone else and get our sadistic or Toppy fixes on.”
“Really?”
He thought that might be a glimmer of hope trying to fight its way through to the light. “Really.” He turned her so he could look her in the eye. “Now what do you say we enjoy our dinner while it’s hot? We can cuddle on the couch in a food coma after we’re done.”
* * * *
Cody wasn’t an idiot. He knew a test when he spotted one.
This was a test. A test of the Emergency Emotional System.
And it was a critical pass-fail test that would make or break where their relationship with Brooke headed next.
When he saw her scars, yes, it’d startled him. Not because they turned him off, but because he hadn’t truly appreciated the extent of the damage wrought to her body by the explosion. Words were one thing.
Seeing the damage was another.
If he could have personally murdered the fucker who set off that bomb and killed the others and wounded her, he would have.
It also emphasized to him how slim the line was between survival and death. That maybe another few inches, she might have died, too.
That she might not have walked into their lives at all.
That she had been through so much more pain and suffering in her life than he could even begin to imagine. He’d burned himself before, hurt himself before. He was a stupid guy, duh.
But nothing like that.
I’ll never be a wuss again.
Justin finally released her after giving her a gentle, tender kiss on her lips.
Not to be left out, Cody kissed her, too, before letting go of her hands. “You want us to leave your life,” Cody said, “you have to tell us. But unless or until you do that, count on us being around for the long haul.”
She finally nodded, her gorgeous blue eyes looking a little too bright, like she hovered on the edge of tears.
“Can I help you with drinks?” Cody asked.
“I made iced tea.”
“That sounds perfect.”
* * * *
Brooke wasn’t sure if she wanted to burst into tears or gales of relieved laughter. No, they weren’t bullshitting her. She was pretty good at reading people, and they weren’t faking their reactions.
They’d been startled, definitely. Unless someone was an experienced burn unit medical worker, anyone would be startled by the appearance of her scars. In her experience, people usually were.
There were times early on where she’d assumed the I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude and tried not to notice how people reacted. She’d wear shorts and not care.
Unfortunately, it was hard to ignore the looks on other people’s faces, so she started covering up to avoid that.
She didn’t want their sympathy or pity, either. And she didn’t want to scare people, especially kids, or be some morbid attraction people stared at.
She wanted her privacy, her peace. She didn’t want to invite others to gawk at the physical reminders of her emotional pain.
She led Cody into the kitchen and pulled three glasses down from the cabinet. He was filling them with ice when she heard Justin let out something halfway between a squawk and a scream.
They both rounded the corner to see Justin trying to peel Dixon out of his lap, where the cat had apparently managed to hook a claw in the crotch of his shorts.
“Oh, dammit! I’m so sorry!” She rushed over despite Cody laughing his ass off behind her. “I can lock him up, if you want.”
“No,” Justin said, sounding pained. “That’s okay. He just caught me by surprise and in really a bad place.”
“That’ll teach you to go commando,” Cody snarked.
She corralled Dixon, the badass, mofo, cock-blocking little asshole, who’d just attacked half of her first decent chance of getting laid since before Dixon was a bastard twinkle in his sire’s eye, and set him down on the floor. “Go lick yourself somewhere.”
Justin was examining his crotch. “Someone might have to lick me. I don’t think I can do it myself.”
She snorted. “I meant my cat.”
“Want me to kiss it and make it better?” Cody teased.
Justin looked up, smiling. “Maaaybe.” His eyes settled on hers. “Maybe both of you can. After dinner, though. I’m hungry. And while I promise I won’t boss you around, I do get pissy if my food gets cold.” His playful smile drew one in response from her.
This time, Brooke and Cody managed to get the glasses of tea poured without Justin having to do battle with D-bag. As they settled in to watch TV, the conversation naturally drifted toward zombie apocalypses and weapons.
“Firearms are only good for so long,” she said. “Eventually, you’ll run out of ammo. And then there’s the noise drawing attention of both zombies and people. And, technically, if you can survive long enough, you should be able to outlast any zombies. They’ll mostly rot away. Or you can take them out in northern climes when they freeze during the winter. Then you’ll only have to worry about new people when they die. But you’ll have to have alternative weapons handy. And if you can keep outrunning the zombies, you can manage to survive.”
“Cardio,” both men said together, making her laugh.
“Hey, I don’t have to outrun the zombies,” she joked. “I only have to outrun the slow people. We should have a zombie movie marathon.”
“Zombieland,” Cody said. “That has to be the kick-off. And Shaun of the Dead.”
“Duh. Dead Snow.”
“Huh?” Justin said.
“Ooh, I love that one!” Cody looked at Justin. “Nazi zombies. You’ve seen that one.”
“Oh, yeah. That one.” He rolled his eyes.
Now it was on. “The Dead,” she said.
Cody grinned. “Is this a zombie movie throw-down? I could do this all night.”
“He’s not kidding,” Justin said. “He really can do this all night. Frankly, I’d like to discuss the licking we were talking about earlier.”
Dixon had returned and took up a position in the chair across from the coffee table, where he laid there and flicked his tail, his baleful green glare casting condescension at them.
Cody noticed him. “Dixon looks pissed.”
“He’s just mad because he’s not getting all the attention,” she said. “He can suck it up, for once. He’s a tough little mofo.”
* * * *
When it was finally time for the previous week’s episode of The Walking Dead to air, Brooke realized these two men were more than special. They were sweet, hunky, and definitely worth taking a chance with.
What did she have to lose? It wasn’t like she had men beating down her door. And here she had two handsome guys who were interested in her!
No-brainer.
She took a risk and snuggled between them, her head in Justin’s lap, her feet in Cody’s. She didn’t even flinch when Cody’s fingers lightly traced the outline of one of her surgical scars. When she looked, he glanced up and met her gaze.
“Is this okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “It’s okay.”
He leaned in and pressed his lips against her flesh, directly on her scar.
Her last guy had kept the lights low or off and avoided staring at her legs, even though he’d made clumsy, bullshit excuses at the time. Yet another reason she’d felt justified in breaking up with him.
Cody feathered his fingers across her flesh again. “I do hav
e one request,” he said.
Here we go. “What?” she asked, almost afraid to hear it.
“Please don’t ask me to go jogging with you,” he said. “I despise early mornings, and I hate to run. I’d rather swim laps or workout in the gym, but I loathe running with a passion.”
More relief filled her. “No worries. I actually prefer running alone. It’s…my crucible. If I can make it through it, I know I can handle whatever else the day throws at me.”
Chapter Thirteen
The sexual tension built between them all the way up until the new The Walking Dead episode aired.
Then, despite Justin’s best efforts to distract both Brooke and Cody, they sort of overruled him to watch the episode.
With gratuitous groping during the commercial breaks, to keep Justin happy.
It wasn’t long before Brooke was glad she was taping The Talking Dead, because she wasn’t about to see any of it. As soon as the preview for next week’s episode ended and Chris Hardwick started talking, Brooke found herself on top of Cody on the couch, Justin kneeling behind her and nibbling on the back of her neck with hot, sexy lips that had her panties drenched.
Yes, she masturbated. She had a shower massager that got regular workouts.
Wasn’t the same. Wasn’t as good as having a real, hot man in bed with her.
Or, two.
Duh.
Sorry, Chris, I can play you back later.
Cody’s hands settled on her hips. “Just to clarify and make sure we’re all on the same page,” he said, “you want to have sex with us. Right?”
She looked over her shoulder at Justin. “Does he always talk this much during sex? Because if so, I might ask you to use one of those gag things on him.”
“Yes, he does. You just have to shove something into his mouth to keep him otherwise occupied.”
“Ah.” She stared Cody in the eyes. “Yes, I want you two to fuck my brains out,” she said. Then she grabbed the hem of her T-shirt, peeled it up and off over her head, and dropped it to the floor.
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