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“You really want to do this jammed in the corner with leftovers everywhere?”
Tris let go of her shirt with a little snap of the rayon shirt. He’d left a wet spot behind. A bullseye for Sparks to find.
And he did.
His hot gaze was drawn there.
Tristan yanked her chair closer and dropped his arm around her shoulders. “Sparky knows best.” He dropped a hot kiss along her neck and then transferred his attention to her mouth before standing. “Besides, nobody puts baby in the corner.” He grinned. “Am I right?” he asked Sparks.
Sparks’s hands were fisted at his sides. She wanted to lean forward and help him. To let him see that it didn’t have to be this big thing. That having fun and easy touches were just what she wanted.
Instead, she followed Tristan into the kitchen as Sparks picked up plates behind her. Both of them cleared the table like seasoned waiters, leaving her with nothing to do but to take the empty wine bottle and her glass.
The guys had this weird dance going on. Two men that knew exactly how to move around each other in a room. She lowered herself onto the tall barstool stashed along the window, content to watch.
When Sparks passed her, his eyes averted, she grabbed his belt loop and reeled him in. “Stop.” She crowded him, sliding her knee between his legs. “Relax.” She peered up at him. “I just want to be with you. To be with both of you, but I don’t want you to get so wound up about it that you don’t enjoy it.” She dragged her finger over his lower lip. “Enjoy me—us.”
His gaze crashed into hers. “I want this.”
“Good.” She stood up on her tiptoes, replacing her finger with her mouth. “I do too.”
She glanced over to where Tristan was leaning against the island, and he crossed his arms. “I’m hard enough to drill a hole into marble. Pretty sure that means I’m on board too.”
“Good.” She let Sparks go with a final cupping squeeze along his cock. “Now let’s get this kitchen cleaned up, huh?”
Chapter Twelve
Candles. Didn’t they have one freaking candle in the entire apartment?
While Juliet and Tristan were cleaning up the kitchen, Randy dug through the drawer of odds and ends in his dresser. He had lots of random shit from his many days on the road with every band from Anthrax to Zenith, and he’d found some gems in that drawer before.
One thing he did not have was condoms. He didn’t have much use for them. He wasn’t a monk exactly, but he didn’t usually need to keep them on hand. Before Juliet and Tris last weekend, he hadn’t had sex of any sort since, hmm, probably that night he’d wined and dined his left hand over the summer. After dealing with a series of technical difficulties on the Breakers’ limited run tour, he’d had two choices—fuck himself or fuck some shit up.
The former had seemed like a good option.
Luckily, Tris could be counted on in the condoms department. He never lacked for female company for long.
Randy pulled out a tray of junk and inched his hand beneath it, discarding old matchbooks and guitar picks and interestingly, a few girly hairpins. Not even sure where he’d picked up those. But he didn’t throw them out. They were road memorabilia, and as such, worthy of hoarding. He didn’t have many belongings, so if he decided to keep a few reminders of all the people he’d met, he was allowed.
And hey, he’d even found a condom, circa probably 2009. As in the first time he’d needed any. Doubtful that was still effective.
“Hey Sparkage, you ever coming out of there?”
He shook his head at Tris’s latest bastardization of Juliet’s nickname for him. “Just a minute.”
“We’re in the living room. If you come out in a smoking jacket, I’ll kick your ass.”
“Smoking jacket? Who the hell do you think I am, the Hef?”
Randy didn’t hear Tris’s response on the other side of the door, but he did hear Juliet’s.
“He doesn’t know that Playboy guy in person, does he? Gross.”
“Nah. He’s only been to the mansion six or eight times.”
“Asshole,” Randy called out. “Gimme a sec.”
Probably stupid to even bother with candles now. She’d been there for a couple of hours already, and she didn’t seem like a girl who needed romance to have fun. This wasn’t even about that, right? Just extended fucking and friendship. Adding a night two to the festivities didn’t change what they were about, but shit, candles were just nice.
