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By the morning of the third day, my period is gone, and I’m starting to feel like a feral cat in heat, and I can’t take another second of this insufferable tension. We stop for gas in northern Arizona, and while I’m waiting by the pump and the guys are inside, I see a road sign ahead that makes me pause.
Los Angeles, 318 miles.
Las Vegas, 107 miles.
I’ve never been to Vegas. The idea plants itself in my head, and I keep brushing it away. We have to go back home at some point. We can’t keep avoiding reality. No matter how many detours we take or stops we make, the impending reality is waiting for us, no matter what we do.
“You driving?” Drake asks as he returns from the gas station and hands me my energy drink.
“Yep,” I reply, eagerly jumping into the driver’s seat. Hunter returns a moment later to find Drake and me in the front seat. With a shrug, he climbs in the back.
“Thanks, babe. We’re only about four hours away.”
“Mh-hm,” I mumble.
But that idea is still implemented in my mind, and once I get an idea, it’s impossible to get it out, until I just do it. So, as we get back on the freeway, I’m faced with that fork in the road—literally.
West…or north?
It’s the memory of the night handcuffed to the bench that turns the steering wheel on the car. It’s the feeling that we’ve only scratched the surface of something. And I’m too afraid that we won’t ever go down this road again once we get back home. So I’m putting all my chips on the table now.
“Hey, Red…where are you going?” Hunter asks from the back seat, when he notices me taking the wrong exit.
“I’m going to Vegas,” I answer with a shrug.
“But we don’t live in Vegas,” he replies.
“I know that.” I glance over at Drake, who’s staying quiet through this, chewing on his bottom lip in contemplation. “But we have everything worked out with Drake’s apartment. We don’t need to go back to work until Friday. And I’m just not ready to go home yet.”
There’s a subtle weight in the car now. Because everyone knows exactly what it is I’m not ready to go back to. After a few minutes of driving toward Sin City, Drake finally jumps in.
“I’ll look up a hotel,” he says as he pulls out his phone.
I do a silent little dance of excitement in my seat. And I hope, this time, he actually does findoneroom.
* * *
Drake findsus a hotel on the strip for two nights. It’s a double room with two beds, and it’s perfect. After checking in, I jump in the shower to get cleaned up and send the guys down to the bar after they get dressed. I’m a woman on a mission.
I brought a long black gown on our trip, in case we had a formal event to go to. It’s hanging safely in the garment bag in the hotel room. And after I curl my hair, apply the makeup that’s sat mostly unused all week—except for the essentials: mascara and lip gloss—I slip the sleek black fabric over my body. It hugs my chest, low cut enough to show off my barely-there cleavage.
Once I’m dolled up and ready, I head for the elevator with a subtle pulse of nerves just under my skin. I squeeze my clutch close to my body, and when the elevator pings on the casino floor, the doors open to reveal Hunter and Drake waiting in their all-black suits.My men.
They were always my men, weren’t they? I may be married to Hunter, but Drake has been more present than not, and in the past week, he and I have crossed a line we’ve both wanted to cross for a long time. It was always meant to be this way. What started as a kinky fantasy, has shown us what we really mean to each other. I love themboth, and they both love me.
Now, they just need to figure out what they are to each other. And it’s up to me to help them along.
I notice Drake silently mouth the words,holy shit. Hunter is smiling at me appreciatively, and my stomach is assaulted by butterflies.
As I approach them, my husband grabs me around the waist, pulling me toward him, so he can kiss my cheek. “I’m half-tempted to take you right back up to that hotel room.”
“I’m down with that idea,” Drake replies. His eyes rove over my body then to my face hungrily.
“Boys, we’re in Sin City. Let’s go see what kind of trouble we can find first.”
“I think we found it,” Drake says to Hunter as I lead them through the casino floor.
We meander our way down the busy strip, and I have the two of them walking behind me like sentinels, scowling at anyone who dares to walk too close to me or look at me too long. It’s almost comical, but it’s also clear I need to get some alcohol in them, stat. They need to relax.
