Love Me Twice (6 page)

So, that’s the way it happened. No prior discussion. No bartering. Not like today, when they’d tossed a coin for her. She’d wondered if it had been some sort of macho, dying wish sort of thing. Now she knew. It had been, but no despite his words to the contrary, it had been her dying wish, not theirs. They had done it for her.

She’d been riding Sean like he was a rodeo bronc, and then his big hands had covered her ass and held her still. She could still remember his whispered words in her ear, “Let Drew love you too.” Drew put his hand on her shoulder, and she knew what was going to happen. She’d dropped her forehead to Sean’s shoulder and waited while Drew unfastened his pants and freed his erection.

“Relax, sweetheart. Let Drew love you, too.” The words slipped from his lips in a murmur of regret.

As distractions went, it had been a good one. Celeste shook off the memory. “Then we were rescued.”

“I’ve never been happier, or more disappointed, to see a bunch of United States Marines in all my life.” Sean tilted his wine glass to his lips.

“Me either.” She shuddered as the reality of their situation hit home. “They were going to kill us.”

“Yes, they were. But they didn’t, and when we got home I fucked it up for all of us.”

“Why? What was wrong with the way things were?” She knew better than anyone did, what had been wrong. She’d brought Drew into the bedroom with them, even if he was only in her heart and her mind. Sean had known it.

“I thought I was losing you, and it scared the shit out of me. I never dreamed you would leave us both.”

“I couldn’t stay. If I did, I’d have to choose between you, and I couldn’t do it.”

* * * * *

The last thing he wanted to do was relive that day, but the woman across the table meant more to him than anything. She was right about one thing—they needed to understand what had happened, and put it behind them.

A waiter returned. Sean ordered without looking at the menu. He knew everything available, down to the last radish. Celeste took her time ordering, and he allowed the memories to surface for the first time in years.

The three of them had worked together for several years. They were a team, and he and Celeste had been lovers for a good portion of their time together. He hadn’t known Drew was in love with her, until that fateful day in the godforsaken desert when they’d been captured. They’d separated them, he and Drew were taken to a room in a bombed out hotel, and left there to wait and wonder what had become of Celeste. She wasn’t military, but she’d been well trained by the CIA, and as the team’s translator, knew enough languages to understand what her captors planned for her. He and Drew had been out of their minds with worry, and that’s when Drew told him how deep his feelings were for Celeste.

Drew was Navy through and through, and being Army himself, they’d been like oil and water when they’d first been assigned together at the DIA. Then Celeste had joined them, and the two men found a new focus for their competitive natures. Sean had won the battle, and he’d never given any consideration to what that had cost Drew, until that day. With nothing left to lose, Drew had told him.

When their capture was imminent, they’d tried to make Celeste look as masculine as they could, but no man on the planet would mistake her for a man. When the bastards had separated them, he thought he would go insane. Drew had saved him, talking about Celeste as if she had only stepped out to get a gallon of milk at the corner store. The conversation had distracted him from the horrors he knew could befall her, and his impotence at not being able to save her.

When they brought Celeste in, and he had to watch her strip in front of all those leering desert rats with their automatic weapons, it had been Drew who held him back. Alive and humiliated was better than honorable and dead. Dead, he couldn’t do anything to help any of them. Drew. The fucking Navy SEAL saved all their lives that day. Drew had managed to keep a cool head, and because he had, they’d all lived long enough to be rescued. It still grated that he owed his life to a water baby.

Shit
. Celeste was right. It was time to let it go. Drew was his best friend, his business partner, and he owed the man his life, pure and simple. Had he issued the highhanded order to Celeste, thinking she would choose Drew and in some way that would be payback for their lives? Or had he simply wanted to get Drew out of the bedroom, one way or the other?

He downed the rest of the wine in his glass and refilled it while Celeste questioned the waiter about preparation methods and seasonings.

 Celeste had run. She’d resigned and disappeared without a word to either of them. Not that they couldn’t have found her. What did she call them? Spooks? They had resources, but neither one of them had been confident enough of her feelings to go after her.

He studied her across the table. She was still the stunning beauty she was back then. Her green eyes sparkled with life as she bantered with the waiter. His cock throbbed with the need to be inside her again. No woman had ever made him feel the way she did. None had ever submitted to him the way she did. She was so strong in her professional life, but in the bedroom, she was his in a way few could understand.

The collar gleamed in the glow of the artificial candlelight. Platinum. He’d bought it with the bonus money they’d received for a job well done. Never mind they’d almost been killed, and had to be rescued by the fucking Marines. Before their capture, they’d completed their mission, and for that, they were amply compensated. He’d carried the collar with him ever since. Not that he would have ever placed it around another woman’s neck. It was for Celeste, and only Celeste.

He’d kept it with him as a reminder of all he’d lost. Of how stupid he had been. It had taken years to realize it, but now he understood. He loved her more, not less, because she was capable of loving two men at the same time.

They were still on shaky ground. Would she choose between them now? If she didn’t, would he share her with his best friend, or would their love for the same woman be the end of their friendship?

What if she chose Drew?

“Dear God,” he whispered.

“I thought you stopped praying a long time ago.”

He held the empty wineglass in his hand, staring at it as if the last drop of burgundy held all the answers. With great care, he placed it on the table and glanced around the restaurant before settling his gaze on Celeste.

“I did.”

“What were you thinking about? You left for a while.”

“I was thinking about that day. About us. About the things we said to each other before you left.”

“I wasn’t at my best then.”

“Neither was I. I owe you an apology.”

“Me, too. I shouldn’t have left, at least, not the way I did. I should have stayed and talked to both of you. Maybe we could have worked it out.”

He refilled his wine glass and topped hers off too. “I don’t think so. Not then. We were all still pretty raw. I don’t think I was ready to hear anything except that you were mine, and only mine.”

“I’m still not sure I can say that.”

“I know. That’s what this week is about. It’s time, Celeste. Time for us to either end it or move forward. I have to know.”

They finished dinner, not without a few laughs regarding the radish roses used for garnish. Sean let her in on the story, telling her how the chef had gone ballistic about the dubious quality of the radishes, and their unsuitability for cutting into roses. It had fallen on him to find suitable replacements—something Drew reminded him of at every opportunity.

They’d always been easy together, and it was good to know that hadn’t changed. Celeste watched Sean. She catalogued the new lines on his face, and remembered how he’d gotten the small scar near his left ear. They had a lot of history together, and she’d never be able to let that go completely. But the intervening years had changed them both, maybe in a good way, maybe not. That had yet to be seen.

All through the excellent meal, she was aware of the band around her neck. It was more substantial, certainly more expensive than the one she’d worn for him years ago. He’d insisted she wear it in public. A first. So far though, he hadn’t dominated. He’d been kind and considerate. He’d even talked about the day that changed their lives. She had a better understanding of it now, but that didn’t make it any easier to decide between them.

They’d done it for her. Nothing like another shit-load of guilt to add to the pile already on her shoulders.

They walked after dinner. Sean’s hand on the small of her back was possessive, but reassuring at the same time. She drew strength from him, something he had an abundance of. It was tempting to lean into him, let him carry some of her burden, but she couldn’t. Not yet anyway.

Eventually, they came to the Art Gallery, a long and narrow interior room that doubled as a shortcut between mid-ship and the Parthenon Buffet. Piped in classical music made it a relaxing place to be, a quiet interlude on a ship where quiet was at a premium. The art was surprisingly well done. It ranged from what appeared to be authentic centuries old paintings and etchings, to modern photography and sculpture. All of it fit into the
Lothario’s
erotic theme.

Sean followed her from piece to piece, and then he left her. Metal scraping on metal alerted her. She rose from examining the signature on a painting to see Sean close and lock the door at one end. He moved with the grace of a jungle predator to the far end and secured the door there as well. They were alone.

“What are you doing?”

“Giving us some privacy, unless you’d prefer to have an audience?”

He didn’t mean. . . . She put an erotic sculpture between them.

“Come here, Celeste.”

Her core melted at the familiar command. How many times had he said those words, and how many times had she obeyed? Too many to count.
No, I won’t give in, I won’t submit
. She knew it was a lie as her feet betrayed her.

She skirted the sculpture and closed the distance between them. His familiar scent weakened what little resolve she had. Standing toe-to-toe, she closed her eyes, unable to bear the sight of his bare chest so close and not touch him.

As if he read her mind, his voice rumbled low, “Touch me. Put your hand on my chest.”

She hesitated. She wanted to touch him, but once she did, all was lost, and she knew it.

“Now, Celeste.” His voice strummed the taut wire inside her, and the old, familiar slide began. She’d given him complete control many times, and by accepting his collar tonight, she’d known he would demand her submission, and that eventually, she would comply.

She opened her eyes and watched as her hand came to rest in the center of his chest. His heart beat steady against her palm, making her want to disrupt his maddening control. Heat radiated through her hand, along her arm and spread through her like a wildfire.

He raised one long fingered hand to her neck and traced the collar he’d put there. His fingers slipped beneath the fall of her hair and curled around her nape. He gently tilted her head to one side, exposing the length of her neck to him. She held her breath as his lips found the erratic pulse at her carotid. A soft piano arrangement drifted on the still air, an antithesis to the tumult inside her.

“Nothing has changed. You still want me. You still want what I can give you.” His words, whispered against her ear were like kerosene on dry tender, igniting a flash fire in her blood, and she slipped further toward the inevitable.

“Yes, Sir.” The familiar words spilled past her lips.

His hands loosened the fastener, and her sarong fell to the floor, taking another bit of her resolve with it.

“Over there,” he pointed to a sensually curved chair, identical to the one he’d been sitting on in Ryan’s stateroom. He took her hand in his and led her to the chair. Her hand in his made her feel small, fragile, protected. Her feet moved as if a puppeteer controlled her movements.

“Bend over the high end.”

 When her thighs bumped the curve of the chair, his big hand flattened against her back and pressed her forward. Sean moved behind her, and she could feel his gaze on her ass, raised and exposed by her position.

His strong legs urged hers to part for him. One long finger hooked the scrap of fabric the
Lothario
called panties, and wrenched them to one side. Celeste jerked at the clear statement of his intent. Her pussy creamed.

“Say you want me.”

His hands stroked her exposed ass. Damn him. He knew she wanted him. He knew her pussy creamed when he talked to her that way. She bit her lower lip against the words he wanted her to say, knowing she would say them, and when she did, her defiance would make the sex so much better.