Page 69 of Summer Heat
She reached down to the hem of her nightgown and lifted. Then she was naked, standing in the dim light coming through the blinds, just like she had been hundreds of times. His gaze and hands and mouth were on her, just like they had been hundreds of times. He was a little rougher, and she was a little more distracted, but they had done this too many times. They knew where each hand would go and exactly how much foreplay would happen before he came inside her.
Except it didn’t happen that way.
Chris’s hand on her neck guided her to the bed, face-first. She bent on her hands and knees. They had done this position before, but not often. Staking his claim. Her gut twisted, rejecting that claim. Her mind shouted no. She didn’t sa
y it out loud, though. Everything was too uncertain. Him. Her. Ethan.
She groaned as Chris entered her, sudden and deep. Her fists held onto the sheets while he rocked her hips back and forth with his body.
The sounds came way too late. Banging. Knocking the bed against the wall? But no, it was farther away, like from the front door. Then there was a voice. “You guys here? Dropping this off. Someone lock up after me.”
“Ethan,” she whispered, but Chris’s grip on her hips was too firm and it all happened too fast.
Then Ethan was standing there, staring. His eyes were wide. His hand held a clutch—her clutch.
She looked back, but Chris’s eyes were closed, brow furrowed. Her body had seized up, frozen, aching like a full body cramp. Her mind was cramped too, realizing she’d made a mistake. A long string of them, culminating in her exposed position on this bed. Even her heart was cramped, squeezed tight in a too-small space. Ethan wasn’t the Grinch, no matter how grumpy he could be. She was—her heart two sizes too small. But it had grown now, in this horrible moment, when two relationships were ruined. All because she couldn’t see what was in front of her until it was too late. Ethan was in front of her… and Chris was behind her.
She must have made a sound, because Chris slowed. Then stopped. His grip tightened on her hips, and she knew he’d seen Ethan.
Surely Chris would tell him to leave. That was the right thing, wasn’t it? If there were an etiquette book on friends and lovers, that’s what it should say. But in all the years they’d all three been friends, in the years she and Chris had been a couple, it had never come up.
Except it must have happened, once or twice. Ethan must have come upon them or stood outside the room, hearing the sounds they made. And she had never known because Ethan had always silently left.
Not this time.
“Hey, old friend,” Chris said, and he didn’t sound friendly.
She shivered at his tone, and he ran a hand along her thigh, as if trying to calm her.
It didn’t help.
Ethan was bathed in shadows, his expression a mystery. She could feel his indecision, could see the line drawn in the carpet between them. He didn’t speak. But he didn’t turn away, and that was answer enough.
“Come here,” Chris said. “Come see our girl.”
And then the craziest thing happened—Ethan actually did that. He crossed the room to stand by the bed. Was she dreaming this? If so, this was the wildest dream she’d ever had. But the cock pulsing inside her was real. The man standing beside the bed, staring down at her, his eyes dark with confusion and desire and a spark of jealousy, was real too.
“Chris,” she whispered, needing reassurance.
He didn’t have any. “You’ll like this, Lia. You’ve always liked it best when the three of us hung out. That’s what we’re doing.”
But it wasn’t. Hanging out was watching a movie or playing poker or building a pillow fort because she’d had the idea and they were all three drunk enough to do it. Hanging out wasn’t sex. She didn’t bother to correct him though, because Chris knew that. Ethan did too, judging by the dark look he sent Chris over her shoulder. The tension between them felt raw and dark and almost violent—and it ran through her body like a current, raising the hair on her neck, awakening every part of her body.
Especially the part joined to Chris.
“We should stop,” she said, although it came out more like a squeak.
Chris tugged her back, off her hands, still on her knees. This way she was fully exposed to Ethan, and he took full advantage, staring at her breasts. This way Chris could whisper into her ear, cold encouragement, harsh promises: “You trust Ethan, don’t you? And you trust me. We’re going to show you a good time.”
And then the words that broke her heart, whispered by the devil behind her. “Ethan’s dying to show you a good time.”
She knew they were true. Ethan may have walked away for years. He may have respected their space and kept his distance and a thousand other things to keep the friendship going. He was clearly done with that, and it hurt. It hurt to know he was throwing friendship away, even if her body was ready to trade up for something better.
She trembled with how ready she was, tiny vibrations that started from deep in her chest and radiated outward, to her hands and toes and pussy. It was strange that Ethan had initiated this, strange that Chris had egged him on. But the strangest of all was that Lia hadn’t put a stop to it. With a single word—that was all it would take.
Strange, because she wanted this to happen. Whatever this was.
“Touch her,” Chris said, because he seemed to be the only one capable of speaking. It was up to him to direct, to grant permission.
