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“I know what we agreed. But you heard her this evening, she wanted to spend Christmas with the kids. She wants to be here doing all the fun stuff with them. More even than being with her family.”
“What are you trying to say?” Coll asked with a frown.
“Come on, man. Surely even you can read between the lines. She wants the joy of spending Christmas with the children. Playing Santa. Seeing them opening their gifts. Doing all the fun things with them. Right now we’re lucky enough that she’s experiencing that vicariously through our kids. But at some point Em’s going to want more.”
“More?” Coll repeated, and Ky threw a cushion at his dumb head.
“Yes, more. She’s going to want to experience all that with her own children... and that means some other guy being in the picture who’ll take her away from us.”
He pursed his lips as the other two frowned. “I know we agreed not to go up against each other for Emalee’s affections, but surely it’s better to be one of us than allowing some other man to snatch her up and steal her from under our noses.”
Coll nodded his head slowly. “Or maybe all three of us. It’s not like we’ve never shared a woman before.”
His comment was greeted with silence except for their indrawn breaths as the others considered his words.
Xander rubbed his palm over his lightly stubbled cheek. “Yeah, but a little bit of bedroom fun is a far cry from doing it full time. People can be vicious.” The voice of reason was always his.
Ky shook his head. “We’re already doing it,” he argued. “The four of us live in this house together, and have done for years. No one outside these four walls knows what the bedroom arrangements are, so if people want to talk, I can guarantee they’re already doing it.”
“I think that’s a decision for Emalee, anyway,” Coll stated bluntly, as he got up and stretched. “The only reason none of us have ever taken things further is because she treats us all equally, but we all know damn well that the sexual tension is there... so maybe she can’t decide either.”
Ky stood too, following Coll’s lead. “I agree with Coll. This is a discussion we need to have with Em... but right now, I’m heading for bed. Because one thing’s certain; the kids will be up at the crack of dawn.”
IT WASN’T EVEN LIGHT the next morning, when the sound of several pairs of running feet stampeded through the once quiet hallways of the house, interspersed with a cacophony of squeals and giggles.
Emalee smiled and threw back her sheets, the children’s Christmas morning excitement contagious.
She didn’t waste time primping, knowing the kids, especially the little ones, would start to rip into all the gifts and it wasn’t fair to expect Kira to corale them. So she dragged on a warm, fluffy robe, and dragged her fingers quickly through her hair before she ran lightly downstairs herself.
She arrived at roughly the same time as each of the guys. Damn it all, how did they manage to look so delicious after just tumbling out of bed? They were all sexily tousled while Em’s hair stood up on end so much she looked like she’d stuck her finger into a plug socket.
And where were their clothes? Okay so they’d rolled out of bed in a hurry to catch up with the kids, but did they all have to be wearing those loose fit pyjama pants which rode low on their hips and left precisely nothing to the imagination?
“Merry Christmas...” A chorus of voices interrupted Em’s appreciation of tanned skin, six pack abs, and that luscious, likable ‘V’ that arrowed down into their pants like it was pointing the way to the holy grail.
“Emalee?...” She realized someone was calling her name and fumbled to get her brain out of the gutter, but when she looked up, right into the eyes of the three suddenly serious, intense gazes, her throat went dry and her pulse rate rocketed.
Shit! Why were they looking at her like that? Like each one of them wanted to eat her alive...
And Em knew damn well she was looking back at them like she’d let them. She couldn’t help it.
The moment stretched between them, strung as taut as a piano wire and the breath lodged in Em’s throat. She stood, immobile, physically unable to budge as her brain short circuited.
Couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t move.
She was like a puppet with her strings cut and they were the puppet masters.
And it those long, stretched* seconds she truly believed that whatever they did, she would dance to their tune.
Each and every one of them.
Then the moment was shattered by the pounding of tiny feet and high pitched squeals as the children, wired and impatient, demanded their attention.
The boys came screaming into the room, shouting and pulling at all four adults, oblivious of the undercurrent that seemed to permeate the atmosphere with something far more carnal than Christmas cheer. All except Kira, who stopped and looked between them all in that curious, far too adult way she sometimes did.
