Page 7 of The Engagement Gift (The Gift 1)
Laughing, Kate answered, “First, you don’t use napkin rings. No one under the age of seventy does. Second, you don’t even have a gift registry. Third, why don’t we apply logic to the ask for a threesome scenario?”
“Oh, believe you me, I’ve already worked out all the scenarios,” I said, tapping my temple. “I have the whole night mapped out from the moment they both strip naked for me.”
Kate cooed approvingly. “Excellent. Then let’s analyze this rationally.”
“Wait. Are you going to make a spreadsheet of my fantasies?” Kate was obsessed with spreadsheets. She used them to track her workout progress, her audiobook consumption, and her professional goals.
“I have one for mine,” she said coyly. Her hazel eyes darkened with frustration. “Trouble is, nothing is getting checked off these days. So, let’s check off yours.”
“Ah, so you are going to spreadsheet my love life,” I teased.
“Hell, yeah. The sum of column A with your threesome fantasy plus column B with asking for it equals column C: extreme pleasure.”
“Right . . . because there are no variables to account for, like, ahem, emotions such as jealousy and so on.”
She held up a finger to make a point. “Ah, but let me remind you—when you told him a year ago that you had role-playing fantasies, what exactly did your fabulous man do?”
My skin tingled from the memory. “He gave them to me,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips as I remembered the night I’d divulged all those naughty fantasies to him. We’d gone dancing at Edge, our favorite club. We loved going to clubs. Loved the sultry vibe, the techno beat, the low lights, the way the bodies grinding together unlocked secret desires.
On the dance floor, I’d unleashed my after-hours imagination. I want to pretend. I want to go home, or go out, or go to the car, and I want to enact all sorts of sexy scenarios, I’d said, the mojito lubricating my lips, freeing my dirty thoughts.
I’d detailed them all.
His answer?
I’ll be your cop. I’ll lock you up till you beg for release.
I’ll be your teacher and spank your luscious ass on my desk.
We’ll play doctor, and I’ll devour you till you come all over my exam table.
Kate lifted the mug to her lips and took a drink, her eyes twinkling. “And did you enjoy the benefits of him giving you all your dreams come true?”
I laughed at the way it sounded like a fairy tale.
In some ways, my life had become one. After the dark beginning of my twenties and the rocky path I’d traveled, I’d reached the other side and found mad love, along with filthy, fabulous sex.
I didn’t need to rock the boat.
“I have nothing to complain about,” I mused.
Kate inched closer. “Maybe, just maybe, you could let him know that you might like to bring in some company.” She crossed her legs, took a sip, and issued the most knowing of knowing looks.
I shuddered at the prospect of two guys taking care of me. I didn’t need them to touch each other. I didn’t want them to touch each other. But I longed to be touched by two gorgeous men at once. As I pictured company in bed, my skin tingled and my pulse spiked. I tried to shake off the endorphin rush, even though my libido was a dirty devil, whispering in my ear for more.
Still, my love for my man was the angel telling me to be good, and the angel won out. “I hear you, but some things are better left unsaid.”
We shifted gears, discussing when we wanted to visit bakeries to sample wedding cake, then debating favorite flowers for bouquets.
Yes, that’s what I needed to concentrate on. Building our life together.
Not adding kindling to the fire of after dark fantasies.
* * *
As I returned to the office, I reminded myself of all the reasons to keep my dirtier thoughts to myself.
It’s just a fantasy. That’s all. I’ll live if I don’t have it. Besides, I need to focus on this story for work, as well as finding the perfect wedding invitations, something on recycled paper, preferably. See? That’s where my energy should go. Sports agents, and trade deadlines, and rumors of new signings. That was my afternoon, and my evening would include checking out stationery options.
Done.
There was no time to entertain the idea of threesomes.
I answered a text from my friend Nina asking for advice on which new pair of glasses to buy. The images she sent me made me smile—goofy selfies of her trying on horn-rimmed glasses then red cat-eye ones.
Lily: You look HAWT in the cat-eye ones. Like the sexy boudoir photographer you are.
Nina: Hey! I want to look like a badass photographer.
Lily: Wear leather then and get a few tats.
Nina: And should I get a nose ring too?
Lily: Something to consider, but I’d have to vote no. Only because it wouldn’t match the glasses.
