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“I thought you needed to get something,” Zane said in confusion.
She patted the steps next to and below her. “I want to tell you a story. And to show you where it happened.”
Trey lowered his narrow butt next to hers. Zane chose to lean against the opening to the living room. He’d pulled his bowtie open at some point. Looking tired but insanely hot in his formal wear, he peeked in at the old couches—curious to see how she lived, she supposed. She was no decorator, and there wasn’t much to see. Most of their furniture came from bargain stores.
She clasped her hands on her knees, refusing to give them a chance to tremble. “You see that door?” she said. “Where we just came in? That’s where my father stood before he left.”
Trey laid one hand around her forearm.
“It’s funny how vividly I remember it when it was so long ago. His overnight bag was at his feet, right there on the penny tile. His shirt had a stain on it that hadn’t come out in the wash. My mom had been dead a week, and he hadn’t figured out the machine.”
Zane was looking at her now, his eyes sad and serious. Rebecca shook off that consciousness. Pity wasn’t what she was after.
“He told me he couldn’t handle Mom being gone. He told me when I tried to cling to him, all he wanted to do was run.”
“Shit,” Zane said softly.
“I don’t know if I’d been clingy or not. I was sixteen. Dad had never done much parenting, so maybe me needing anything from him was too much. I remember how he shuddered when he said it, like I disgusted him. When I saw that, I was so angry, I swear I’d have killed him if I’d been able to. I refused to beg him to stay. When he did go and didn’t come back, I thought maybe I should have pleaded—for the boys’ sake, at least. I expect it wouldn’t have made a difference. He told me to call child services. He said there’d be a family who wanted Charlie and Pete.”
Trey breathed a curse like Zane had. Rebecca turned on the step to him.
“One of the last things my mother told me before she passed was to be patient with our dad. She said he needed us kids to love him. I still don’t know if she was right, only that he needed even more to escape.”
“We need you,” Trey said, taking her hands in his. “We need you to love us.”
“I do,” she said. “That’s why I’m telling you this. For most of my life I was convinced I’d never trust my heart to a man. Absolutely, I’d never let myself need one. You two did an end run around my fears. You made it easy to love you.”
Trey’s eyes spilled over, and hers did too.
“You need to sell this fucking place,” Zane broke in.
She and Trey let out matching laughs.
“I mean it,” he said, glaring at their amusement. “Your brothers shouldn’t even live here. Those memories are bad mojo.”
“I have good memories too. Raising Pete and Charlie here was great.”
“Make new good memories with us. Move in with us. There’s plenty of room for your brothers whenever they want to stay. Trey, give her the thing.”
She looked at Trey, who smiled crookedly. He took one hand from hers to dig in his pocket. “We hadn’t decided when to do this, but I guess now is a good time.”
He handed her a plain square box with a lid. A quick glance at Zane showed he was frowning—not an angry frown, more like a worried one. He wasn’t sure she’d like this. She lifted the lid carefully.
A ring of keys lay on the white batting.
“Front door,” Trey said, touching one with his fingertip. “Garage and master for all the cars. This one opens the door to our flat in Paris—”
“You have a flat in Paris!” she couldn’t help exclaiming.
“We do. With an awesome view and a balcony. Remind Zane to speak French for you sometime. Trust me, it’s super-hot.”
“I bet it is.” The leering grin she exchanged with Trey was all the more entertaining for the power it had to embarrass its subject.
“Show her the last key,” Zane ordered Trey gruffly.
The final key was beneath the others and dangled from a golden chain. The links were hand-fashioned and looked a bit Medieval. The key itself was modern, but more complex than the others.
“The playroom,” she breathed, knowing instantly.
“We’ll put your prints into the system,” Zane said. “That plus those keys will give you access to anything in the house.”
Rebecca dropped the gold chain around her neck. The weight of the key fell gently between her breasts.
“Thank you,” she said, her heart beating fast and strong. “I accept your very kind offer to move in with you.”
“Good.” Zane’s blue eyes met hers with breath-stealing directness. “Let’s go home and fuck ourselves silly.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Cherry on the Top
REBECCA deserved a medal for not attacking the men in the car. They seemed to expect it. Both had erections when they got out.
“We’ve done the garage,” she said airily, though her body was simmering. “Please follow me to the house.”
Zane chuckled behind her. “Have something in mind?”
She didn’t answer, just smiled to herself. Inside, the mansion had its usual nocturnal hush, twinkling with just enough tasteful lights to see by. She was carrying her heels and consequently dared to add an extra sway to her hips. It would have been a shame not to. The formfitting dress was made for it.
“Look out, Trouble,” Trey said, apparently liking what he saw.
She stopped outside the elegant period elevator.
“Have you swept the place?” she asked Zane.
His focus took a second to travel back to her face. He’d been distracted by the dip of her neckline, in which the key now hung. “You mean for surveillance? Yes. Top to bottom. Nothing’s here apart from the security that should be.”
Smiling, she turned to Trey, where her eyes widened. She’d caught him tugging the crotch of his trousers to make room for his bulge. “When you’re done there, big boy, could you work the door for me?”
“It’s been a while,” he explained, grinning.
“Not since Showergate,” she agreed.
Trey laughed and opened the folding gate. Feeling like a femme fatale, Rebecca sauntered into the car. The walls were dark wood with art deco detailing. She pressed her back to one age-tarnished handrail and dropped the shoes she’d been holding.
“Please join me,” she said to the men.
Zane stepped in cautiously, like he thought she might bite. “You sure you don’t want to wait until we get to our bed?”
“I have elevator fantasies.”
“Trouble,” Trey repeated, his eyes twinkling.
Now that she had the men’s attention, Rebecca shimmied the bottom of her short skirt to her hips, where the velvet’s slight stretch held it. For the first time in her life, she wore honest-to-God silk stockings and a lace garter belt. She’d found both in the stash of clothing Zane bought for her. Her tiny black panties matched, though she wasn’t flashing that much of them.
Zane swallowed at the visual. “You have the best girl thighs in the world,” he swore.
She grinned, appreciating the distinction. Trey had nice thighs too, after all. She noticed Zane’s tuxedo jacket was slung over his forearm.
“Please give that to Trey,” she said.
Neither man seemed to mind catering to her whims. Trey accepted Zane’s jacket. “Shall I shut the door?” he offered.
She nodded, and he closed them into the wood-lined space. He knew better than to take them to the third floor. They weren’t leaving here just yet. Already caught in the spell, Zane couldn’t look away from her. He wet his sumptuous lips, seeming nervous and excited. If she had her way, she’d turn the heat up under both reactions.
“Unzip,” she said, the order husky, “but don’t unbutton.”
Wincing at the trickiness of the task, Zane lowered his zipper tab. His pleated shirt was tucked in. His big erection pushed a stretch of white through the slit.
“Reach back for the railing,” Rebecca said. “Don’t let go unless I tell you.”
Behind her, Trey’s breathing hitched and then sped up. He liked this game where she was the boss as much as she’d hoped he would. Lips turning up with pleasure, she stepped toe to toe with Zane. His eyes went dark as she dug through his shirt and into his briefs for the hot silk of his organ. His arm muscles bulged in his sleeves as he restrained his impulse to move them.
“Nice,” she said when she found and stroked his erection.
She pulled it gently through the opening in his trousers. She knew Zane enjoyed that, but he controlled himself.
“This isn’t fucking each other silly,” he pointed out almost evenly.
