I don’t.
I can’t. I’m drugged on the looming largeness of themboth as they crowd me between them. It’s so easy to relax into accepting what they clearly want from me. Like a pawn in a game of chess, my body is pushed forward into the unknown, ready for however they want to play the game.
The night seems to close in, the space around us narrowing until there is only this. The three of us, and the quiet, charged tension threading between every breath.
Two men.
Before Joelle found Wade and Caleb and settled into a life with them, the idea of a woman with two men wasn’t a setup that ever crossed my mind. It didn’t belong to my world. I didn't even have language for it, let alone curiosity about it.
Now, sitting here between Mason and Brookes, I understand the appeal.
It isn’t only about having two sets of hands or two different kinds of attention, though I’m aware of both in a way that feels impossible to ignore. It’s the contrast. The way Mason’s presence presses in, while Brookes lingers just at the edge of that, watchful and measured, like he’s taking his time deciding exactly how close to get. Or giving me time to work out how much I’ll accept.
It’s the balance of it. One draws me out without hesitation, the other makes me aware of every reaction. I don’t feel pulled in two directions. I feel… held in the middle.
For the first time, I can see how a woman might step into this kind of situation and never want to leave. But that isn’t what I want. My parents would never accept the kind of life that Joelle has for me.
But a fling? No one would ever have to find out.
Mason stands, the movement smooth and certain. Hishands settle at my waist, lifting me easily. My arms come up around his shoulders without thought, my pulse quickening as the world shifts again. He’s so strong, I feel like I weigh a feather. So powerful, he could do anything, and I’d be unable to resist. The thought sends a thrill through me.
“You sure you can carry me with all that cake and frosting weighing me down?” I say, trying to lighten the moment.
He laughs, kissing my lips hard.
“Come on,” he murmurs.
I've a strong sense of where this is going, but I don’t ask. Neither does Brookes as he stands and follows. The barn looms in the distance, doors open, shadows spilling out into the night.
Brookes’s footsteps are heavy, thudding in time with my heart. I’m fizzy with anticipation and aching with desire. I’m overwhelmed with this chance to be a different Janey. One who’s not weighed down by my mother’s high expectations for perfection at all costs. One who can lust after two men and be brave enough to discover if their bodies and their intentions are as hot as she imagines.
For once, I don’t hesitate.
I let them lead me into a situation I know better than to be a part of, ready to let all my inhibitions fly away with the wind.
Ready to devour them both like frosting.
Chapter 2
Mason
We should have left when the party finished. We should have gotten into our truck and driven away with the memory of Joelle’s sexy friend stashed away for later, when we retired to our rooms alone, with just our own hands for company.
That thought comes too late to matter, settling in somewhere behind my ribs as I carry pretty Janey across the yard, her body warm against mine, her breath brushing my throat as she pants with anticipation.
I knew better the second she stepped onto that porch. Knew better the way she looked at us. Curious. A little unsure. Still sitting between us anyway like she’d already made the decision to fuck us and hadn’t said it out loud yet.
Brookes warned me that she’s in heat. He caught her looking at us while she licked frosting off her fork like she was thinking about licking other things. Wade warned meearlier, before he disappeared upstairs to enjoy fucking his woman.
“Janey’s a good girl,” he said. “A good woman,” he corrected. “She isn’t looking for the kind of fun you and your brother enjoy. And her mama’s a dragon. Best not to get involved.”
But good girls don’t search for cowboys in their pretty pajamas unless they’re looking for fun. They don’t lean in like Janey did, kissing us like she was sampling ice cream flavors.
She might be a good girl at home, but tonight? She’s looking to be bad.
She doesn’t feel like a mistake in my arms. She feels soft in the right places, solid in others, her weight settling against me totally, trusting I won’t drop her. Her legs shift slightly at my hips as I walk, her bare skin brushing through the thin fabric between us, and I have to tighten my hold to keep my focus where it belongs.
Her hair brushes my jaw when she moves, warm brown with lighter strands, soft where it slips against my skin. It’s the kind of hair that looks a little messy in a way I’ve always preferred. A style you can get your hands into without ruining it.
