GirlMostLikelyTo (18 page)

She picked up the blue one and hugged it, stuck her fingers
in the holes, took them out again, slid them in again and heard choked groans
from the guys.

“Let’s try the other.” She picked up the orange ball and
stroked it before she put her fingers in. “Bit tight. Too tight? Not sure.
Might be too heavy. Not keen on orange.”

Tomas lifted the ball from her and put it down. “Enough.”

“But I like playing with balls.” She could hardly believe it
was her speaking.

Adam pushed a pink one into her arms. “Try that. It’s the
lightest. You bowl first.”

Wren pushed her fingers into the holes and stood in front of
the foul line. She concentrated hard, ignoring the bangs and cracks from the
lanes on either side, and lowered the arm holding the ball. As she swung it
back, she stepped forward expecting the ball to fly, but it didn’t come out of
her hand. Instead, she was the one who flew. Unbalanced, she staggered, one of
her feet landed in the oily lane and she went down hard.

“Ouch.”

Adam and Tomas were on her in an instant, cradling her,
helping her to her feet, their eyes full of concern.

“God, that was my fault. Are you okay?” Adam asked.

Tomas took the ball from her and Wren brushed herself down.
“I’m fine.” Another bruise to add to her bruises.

“Check fingers fit next ball,” Tomas said.

“Good idea. I don’t like balls slipping out of my grip.” She
couldn’t hold back her snigger.

“You are going to be in so much trouble later,” Adam
whispered.

She went to try out a different color but could hear the
guys talking behind her.

“Do you need to keep that up?” Adam said.

Keep what up?

“Might be someone listening,” Tomas muttered.

Adam gave an exasperated sigh.

What?

Wren carried a much heavier purple ball over to the foul
line. As she tried to pull her arm back, she dropped it mid-swing. It crept
over the line and began to slowly roll down the lane.

“Have you actually done this before?” Adam asked through his
laughter.

She pretended to glare. Tomas sat on the bench, holding his
bottle of beer against his mouth, though she suspected he was trying to
disguise that he was also laughing.

“I haven’t found the perfect ball yet. That one didn’t feel
quite right. I need lots of ball handling to find what I like best.”

Tomas stood up and stared over her shoulder, his eyes
widening. He nodded to the lane. “Look.”

She turned to see her ball still trundling toward the pins,
smack in the center of the lane.

“Oooh. Come on, come on,” she yelled.

She clenched her fists as the first pin fell and then the
others followed.

“Yessss,” she hissed in delight and thrust up her palms for
high fives.

“Fluke,” Tomas said as he smacked his palm against hers.

“Skill,” she corrected. “My ball handling skills are second
to none.”

Oh God, what am I saying?

“You know you have something to prove now,” Adam said. “Can
you juggle with four balls?”

Her knees wobbled and she slumped onto the seat.

Adam smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll teach you.”

The guys took off their coats and started to bowl. Of course
they were good. They played to win. But the longer they played, the more
reassured she became. They were competitive, but not aggressively so. They
teased each other, praised each other and her. The more they joked and fooled
around, the more comfortable Wren grew in their company.

By the time they were halfway through, she’d tried out every
color and thrown most of them into the gutter, either within feet of the foul
line or the ball veered into the side channel just before it reached the pins.
She’d tried using both hands, swapping hands, throwing hard, throwing soft,
shoving, tossing—which had caused both guys to suck in an audible breath as the
ball crashed onto the lane—but it made no difference.

“I suck,” she said.

Adam and Tomas froze, and she swallowed the lump in her
throat. That hadn’t been deliberate but—what the hell.

“Really badly,” she muttered.

“I doubt that,” Adam whispered.

“No, I suck, suck, suck, suck, suck.”

“You little minx.” Adam gave a low growl as he brushed past
her on his way to the line.

Tomas couldn’t remember the last time he’d had fun like this
without it involving sex. Though to be fair, he was
thinking
about sex.
He was turned-on watching them, turned-on listening to them. Touching wasn’t
advisable. He wished he could talk to Wren without this damn accent but he
couldn’t take the risk. Maybe in the privacy of his apartment or Adam’s? But
then he’d have to explain why he was in her conversation class. One slip of the
tongue from her could land them in serious trouble.

Adam won the first game, and he won the second. Though
they’d planned to let Wren win the third, she was so hopeless, they gave up and
Adam beat him. Just. Tomas surprised himself by not minding. Well, not too
much.

When they emerged into the chilly evening, the three of them
eyed each other warily.

“Well?” Tomas eventually asked.

Wren put down her purse and folder, reached out and slid her
hand into his. His heart jumped. She tugged Adam’s hand from his pocket and
held it but said nothing.

“Wren,” Adam said. “What do you want to do, sweetheart?”

Her first word was incomprehensible. She coughed and tried
again. “I want you to show me what else you’re good at.”

Tomas gulped. “Come to my apartment?”

She nodded.

When she let his hand go to pick up her purse, Tomas took
the file and tucked it under his arm. Wren slung her purse on her shoulder and
held their hands as they hurried through the city, seemingly unconcerned about
walking like that with two guys. Tomas’ dick ached. It had been up and down
like a damn yo-yo the entire evening. Just as he thought he’d mentally wrestled
it back under control, he’d look at Adam’s tight ass or catch sight of Wren’s
lovely smile and blood raced south like an Olympic sprinter. It was of some
comfort that glances at Adam’s crotch revealed the same problem. Thank God it
wasn’t bright in the bowling alley.

As they neared the station, Tomas’ phone vibrated in his
inside pocket. He let go of Wren. “I catch up.”

He stopped walking and brought the phone to his ear.

“Good evening,” Julia said. “Orange service department. You
have a complaint?”

“I need top up phone. Twenty-two pounds.”

“Can you talk?”

“Probably okay, but on street.”

“Can I talk to you?”

“Yes.”

“Adam Kesey. Thirty years old. Boy wonder. Owner of Mirofax,
the antifraud company. IT whiz. First class honors from Oxford University. Bit
of a bastard to work for apparently. No criminal record. Around seventieth in
the
Times
Rich List. Currently on vacation. Looks fine.”

Yep, he did look fine. But way out of Tomas’ league. A
millionaire? Fuck. He’d heard the comment about more than one home and car and
still not got it.

“You there?”

“Yes.”

“Wren Monroe. Twenty-five. No priors. She reported the theft
of eighteen thousand pounds by her boyfriend a few months ago. He emptied her
bank account and maxed out her credit card.”

“Shit.”

“He’s skipped abroad. There’s no active case against him.
Well, wasn’t.”

“Meaning?” Tomas kept his eye on Wren and Adam walking
ahead, holding hands, heads together.

“She’s Chief Constable Joe Ellis’ adopted daughter.”

Tomas’ world came crashing down along with his jaw.

“So no problem with either of them,” Julia said.

“Right. Thanks.” Tomas ended the call and shoved the phone
back in his inside pocket.

Julia was his immediate boss but above her loomed Joe Ellis,
and if he found out Tomas had fucked his daughter, particularly with another
guy, there was no need to worry about danger from Marco. Joe Ellis would string
him up by the balls.

Chapter Eighteen

Tomas caught up with Adam and Wren underneath the railway
bridge. He had an excuse all ready in his head. The phone call had been from
his boss. Marco needed him. Now. Sorry, but he couldn’t get out of it.

He saw Wren’s happy, excited face and lost the plot.

She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips. “Missed
you.”

His hand moved without permission from his brain, snaking
around her waist to pull her close. The scent of her made him hard. Maybe her
father wouldn’t find out. Wren was hardly going to tell him she was having sex
with two guys. Adam could be the visible one. Tomas would hide. He was an
undercover expert. Preferably under the covers of her bed.

“You okay?” Adam gave him a curious look.

The guy was too bloody sharp. “Yeah, fine.”

Tomas slung his arm over Wren’s shoulder as they walked the
last few hundred yards to Dock Street. Why hadn’t Adam told him he
owned
the company he worked for? He hadn’t even said it was to do with fraud. He was
hiding who he was just as much as Tomas.

Oh shit, not really.

He chewed the inside of his cheek. Maybe they ought to make
it clear to Wren before they started that this likely wouldn’t last beyond a
few months. Adam might manage a few journeys to Leeds from London, but a busy
guy like him, a rich guy like him wouldn’t be interested in long-term, no
matter what he said. In any case, Tomas had spent months cultivating a
relationship with Marco. The asshole had made noises about sending him on the
next collection. Tomas couldn’t compromise that.

He handed Wren her folder, took out his key and unlocked the
gate, and then the door to the building. Wren had chattered ten to the dozen
all the way here and now she’d fallen silent. She was no longer holding their
hands and seemed smaller, as if she’d shrunk into herself.

In the lift, she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. Adam
looked at him and raised his eyebrows. Tomas shrugged. He suspected Wren’s
chatter was a defense mechanism, that her flirting wasn’t borne of any real
experience. She wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

Tomas opened up his apartment and gestured them inside. When
he closed the door, Wren clutched her purse and folder like a shield, as though
she expected them to jump on her. He took off his coat and tossed it aside.
Neither Adam nor Wren moved.

“One thing,” Wren said. “Something that scares me and I
don’t want you to mess around teasing me about it because I’ll really freak
out. I don’t like having my face covered. So no pillow on my face, no towel, no
sheet, no backside, okay?”

They nodded.

Adam took a deep breath. “There’s no decision to be made
here, angel. No point from now when you can’t tell us no. No line we’ll cross
without your consent. That goes for us too.” He glanced at Tomas. “I don’t want
your fist up my ass.”

Wren drew in a ragged breath.

“And I won’t be forced to eat peanut butter,” Adam said,
“and I sure as hell won’t listen to Michael Bublé.”

She released a choked laugh and Tomas no longer wanted to
say anything about this not lasting, particularly when it hadn’t even started.
Who the fuck knew what was round the corner? Maybe tomorrow he’d get knocked
down by a bus. Maybe Marco would discover he was a cop and order Veton to strip
the skin from his body inch by inch.

“We aren’t going to push you,” Adam said to her.

Wren put down her purse and folder and dropped her coat on
top. “I need a bit of a push,” she said quietly. “I do want this, want both of
you, but I prefer not to be in charge. Not this time. Er…probably.”

He and Adam chuckled.

Tomas held out his hand. “Come.”

Wren put her fingers in his. He tugged her down the hallway,
into the lounge and flicked on the wall lights.

“This is huge,” Wren said. “I’d love a place like this. Look
at that wooden floor. And what is it about guys and enormous TVs? They’ll be
covering whole walls soon. Wow, you have a view over the water?”

Tomas exchanged a smile with Adam. “Come see.”

He unclipped the locking mechanism on the sliding doors and
stepped onto the balcony. She stared down at the black river swirling below and
shivered. “Wouldn’t want to fall in that.”

Tomas dropped his chin to her head and inhaled.
Coconut
shampoo.

“Would you dive in and save me?” she asked.

“Not dive. Break neck. I jump.”

He tugged her back inside and secured the door again.

“Why bother locking it?” Adam asked. “Expecting a visit from
Spider-Man?”

He shrugged. “Habit.” A tug on the cord drew the blinds and
cut off the view to the city, and the city’s view of them.

“Drink?” Adam asked. “Do you still have that bottle of wine
I brought?”

“In cupboard.”

Wren wandered round the room and stopped at the bookshelf.
“Ooh, you have a collection of Michael Bublé CDs.”

Tomas gaped and then growled as Adam sniggered. “I do
not
have him.”

“I like him,” she said.

“All women like him. That why men don’t.”

Adam carried over three glasses of wine. They chinked them
together.

“To us.” They spoke at exactly the same time and grinned.

Wren sat in the middle of the couch and they dropped down on
either side of her. Tomas slid his arm along the back so it rested against
Wren’s neck while he played with Adam’s hair.

“Still got sugar in hair,” Tomas said.

“And on your face,” Wren said.

Adam rubbed his jaw. “You want me to shower?”

“I think me and Wren lick it off.”

The lump in Adam’s throat shifted as he swallowed. Wren
gulped her wine. Tomas looked at the tent in his pants and its twin in Adam’s.
The sooner they got down to this the better. Someone had to make the first
move. Wren had already made it clear it wouldn’t be her. Probably.

He smiled and stared at Adam. “Stand up.”

Adam’s mouth tightened, presumably at being issued an order,
but he put down his glass and rose to his feet.

Tomas nodded to Wren. “You too.”

Wren hovered beside Adam, her fingers twitching. Tomas’
mouth dried at the sight of them. Fully clothed they made his heart pound. He’d
never felt so driven to something before.

“Stand back to back and take one step away from each other.
Close eyes until I tell you open. First one naked chooses how we do this, who
goes where. One, two, three. Go.”

He smiled as they hesitated. He’d expected Wren to ask for
the lights to be dimmed. Adam pulled his sweater over his head. In Adam’s
place, would he have gone fast or slow?
Fast.
But he’d have been torn
between wanting to do whatever made Wren feel comfortable and a desire to
orchestrate the show. He could cheat if he wanted to change the result.

What he didn’t expect was Wren to strip so fast. Adam wasn’t
slow, but Wren kicked off her shoes, pulled off her top and her bra and yanked
down her pants and panties together.

Fucking hell.
Tomas already thought she was gorgeous,
but all that soft skin, those curves, long legs, dusky nipples, shaved pussy—
oh
Christ
.

“Wren won,” he choked out.

Adam hopped as he pulled off his last sock and turned to
look at her. Tomas had worried she’d be shy, try to cover herself, but she
didn’t.
Thank God.
Except she had her eyes closed and her fists
clenched. He smiled. Adam’s cock grew another inch as he stared at Wren. Tomas’
cock seemed intent on bursting out of his pants.

“Going to open those eyes?” Tomas asked.

“No,” Wren whispered.

“You’re beautiful,” Adam said. “But please open your eyes.”

She sighed and her eyelids fluttered up.

“Good girl.” Tomas kept his gaze on her face and watched as
she came to terms with what was happening. He didn’t want the fight to go out
of her, for her to submit. He wanted her to accept. Her smile would have felled
him if he’d been on his feet.

“I get to choose who goes where?” she asked.

“What?” Tomas couldn’t think past getting into bed with
these two beauties and fucking their brains out. His brain was already fucked.

“Yep,” Adam said, his gaze glued to her breasts.

“You in the bathroom, Tomas in the lounge, me in the
bedroom.”

Adam laughed. “I don’t think that’s going to work,
sweetheart. The three of us in different rooms?”

The flush on her cheeks dragged a low moan from Tomas.

“Didn’t mean that. I decide in the bedroom, you in the
bathroom and Tomas in here.”

“You want to do this three times?” Adam asked.

Tomas wasn’t sure how the guy kept a straight face.

Wren narrowed her eyes. “If you’re lucky.”

Tomas unbuttoned his shirt. “Go lie on bed. Both of you.”

“But…” Wren began.

“We in living room. My choice.”

He guessed Wren had intended they stay in here. Of course,
once they were all in the bedroom, she could tell them to come back in here.
Christ.
They’d be playing musical rooms all night. She hadn’t moved.

“I want to see you all spread out.” Tomas pulled off his
shirt and unzipped his pants. “I need to get in right mood.”

His cock sprang out of his boxers and she chortled. “That’s
not being in the mood?”

“My dick upset if you laugh at him. He cry small tears and
then big flood.”

“I think you have that wrong. Crying means he’s happy,” she
said.

“I like happy dick.” Tomas grinned.

“Want me to kiss him happy.” She glanced at Adam. “We could
both kiss him happy.”

Tomas tried to think of something witty and for a change,
came up blank. He was officially brain dead. He doubted he could remember how
to walk. One step proved he couldn’t. He nearly fell headlong. When Wren
dropped at his feet to take off his shoes so he could remove his pants, he
heard a groan slip through his lips.

“Where did the bruises come from?” Wren asked as she stood
and came level with his chest.

“Fell.”

“Does it hurt?” She touched his ribs and Tomas swallowed.

“All over.”

“Lots of kissing to be done then.” Wren smiled.

“Bedroom curtains shut?” Adam asked.

She took their hands. “Let’s find out.”

As they crossed the hall, the sound of his mobile halted
Tomas’ brain freeze. Marco. He reluctantly retrieved it from the floor.

“I need you to drive to Hull tonight to pick up a package,”
Marco said.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“I busy now. I go tomorrow.”

“Busy?” Marco’s voice was arctic.

Tomas watched Adam tug Wren into the bedroom. “Very busy.”

“You work for me, you do what—”

“You don’t own me.” Tomas screwed up his eyes and rubbed his
forehead. He shouldn’t have said that. Marco was silent for a long time.

“How much do I pay you, Tomas?”

“Not enough.”

He shouldn’t have said that either, but Marco laughed.

“Eastman Warehouse on Cargo Road. Ask for Mitch Gates. First
thing tomorrow. Early.”

“Okay.”

“And Tomas? Next time, don’t be busy.”

He switched off the phone and wished he’d thought to do it
sooner. He took his other phone from his coat, slipped into the second bedroom
and closed the door.

“You told him you were busy?” Julia’s voice went up an
octave. Seems he was an expert in pissing off bosses.

“I
am
busy.”

“This is important, Tomas,” she barked.

So is my bloody life.
“I’m going to Hull tomorrow.
There’s no problem. Soon as I know what I’ve picked up and where I have to take
it, I’ll let you know.”

“There better not be a problem. Marco doesn’t own you, but
we do. You were lucky to get a second chance. Don’t fuck things up this time.”

He bit back his retort and switched off the phone. If she
checked, the phone’s GPS would tell her he was in his apartment. She wouldn’t
think he was staying in to wash his hair. But he didn’t care what she thought.
He’d bent over backward to make up for what had happened two years ago. He
hadn’t made the error, but Patterson wasn’t around to give her side of the
story. Instead, Tomas shouldered the blame. He rarely let himself think about
it and he was angry with Julia for bringing it up.

When he reached the doorway of the bedroom, he stumbled to a
halt. His anger and anxiety evaporated as he stared at Adam and Wren, who lay
facing each other on his bed. He wished he could take a picture to capture the
moment. A wave of breath-stealing heat ran from head to toe, an overpowering
surge of intense lust that grew and grew until it flashed to coalesce in his
gut.

“Everything okay?” Adam asked.

“I leave early tomorrow to go to Hull.”

He walked forward until he reached the foot of the bed and
then slowly crawled up between them, bending to kiss from one side to the
other, lower legs, knees, thighs, belly, ribs, nipples, until he reached their
faces.

“Ladies first,” Tomas whispered and pressed his lips to
Wren’s as he stretched out.

She smelled delicious—of macaroons and coconut. She tasted
of wine and something flowery and he began to lose himself in her mouth. He
meant to go slow, meant to be gentle, but the kiss drifted out of control and
he kissed her harder. Adam’s hand clamped to his hip, squeezed and kept him
anchored, reminding him they were three. It had been a long time since he’d
done this. He hadn’t actually thought he’d ever do it again. When he pulled
away from her mouth, Wren let out a little whimper of longing but Tomas
transferred his pleasure to Adam’s lips, their tongues instantly tangling as
they fought to take charge.

Wren molded herself against his back, her leg curling over
his thigh, her toes rubbing his shin as she caressed his shoulder. Adam broke
away to take a breath, leaned over to lick Wren’s cheek and then was on Tomas
again, their cocks plastered together, hips grinding. Tomas loved being
sandwiched between them. He could feel hands everywhere, Adam’s large and firm,
Wren’s soft and gentle. It was Wren’s fingers he could feel drifting down his
back, over his hip, pushing between him and Adam until she grasped his cock.
Oh
fuck.