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Megan took her bag from Landon. “No, I’ve got it.” She headed into the room and closed the door behind her.
“Do you know how to use that steel at the small of your back?” Landon’s question came out of nowhere.
Things I knew about Landon—he’d served in the Marines with Quentin, he’d been good enough company to grab Megan’s attention for a night, and now I knew he was observant.
Instead of saying anything, I drew the knife and flicked it at the dummy hitting it almost square in the middle of the forehead. “Game’s off. Should’ve centered that.”
Landon twisted his mouth. “That answers that.” He walked up to the dummy and reached for my knife. “May I?”
“Sure.” I appreciated the courtesy of him asking if he could touch my weapon.
He pulled the knife out of the dummy’s head, and hefted it for weight before turning it over in his hand. “Nice blade. You Army? Marines?”
It was a fair assumption, given his background, so I wouldn’t laugh at the question. “Sixty-ninth Regiment, Jingles Family Circus.”
“But seriously.” Landon handed my knife back.
My grin was tight. “Yes, seriously. I’m the only guy you’ll ever meet who ran awayfromthe circus. I haven’t been back for a few years, though.”
Hinges squeaked and we looked up to see Megan step back into the room. Her cheeks were pink and the wedding make-up had been washed away and replaced with a lighter coat, more like what she usually applied.
She still wore her dress, though, and was holding the bodice to her chest with one hand, the back hanging open an inch or two. “I was wrong. I can’t reach all the buttons.”
My fingers twitched. I’d love nothing more than to draw my touch along her smooth skin. Strip her dress off and— If I started there, I may not stop, and then I’d be fucking Megan in front of Landon, fuck my resolve.
But if I let him offer to help… Things may go nowhere, but then again…
Jealousy and curiosity warred inside. If something did happen, what would I do? Watch. Jerk off. I was only human. “Landon’s got a lot more experience taking off clothes than I do.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” Landon eyed me warily.
“I’m being sincere.”
Megan frowned. “One of you, please?”
“Oh I’ll help.” Landon moved behind her. “I’m happy to help.” He was already deftly undoing the next button.
Watching his thick, callous fingers glide down her back, flipping delicate pearl buttons through tiny lace loops as if they were nothing, hearing the sharp intake of breath from Megan every time he brushed her spine, was captivating. The further down Landon went, the longer his touches lingered.
And then he was done with the buttons, and Megan’s dress hung open, exposing her spine, hinting at lace panties, the shoulder straps and her hand on her chest barely holding the clothing up.
I swallowed, but it didn’t help my dry throat or make my cock any less hard. Envy and desire screamed through me in a painfully delicious blend. When Landon glided the flat of his finger up Megan’s back, her gasp was intoxicating.
“Thank you,” she said softly, but didn’t pull away.
“Did you need help with something else?” Landon’s voice was thick.
I was watching real life porn play out. Or one of Sonya’s plots. Definitely the latter, because these were real people and not flat caricatures. “You could help her check number 42 off her bucket list.”
The instant the words passed my lips, I wanted to take them back. This wasn’t the time or the place.
Megan’s flush grew, sending pink rushing over her exposed skin, and she bit her bottom lip.
“What’s number 42?” Landon asked.
Most likely my undoing.
“Sex while a third person watches,” Megan said softly. That she’d replied at all, especially with a stranger in the room, wasn’t like her. Then again, today had been a weird day all around.
