Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel (2 page)

Her birthday present was
starting
? Okay, he must be talking about the sex portion of the gift. Yet … why would he need to announce it if he was just talking about sex? Because yeah, she was good and ready for that, but … they’d had plenty of sex already during their four years together. “The sex, you mean,” she said to clarify anyway, though she knew she sounded confused.

“Kind of,” he said, and now he … hmm, to her surprise he suddenly looked just as uncertain as she felt. Not nervous exactly—Ethan was never nervous—but he’d slowed down on this present-giving thing and she sensed him wading through it a little more gingerly at this point, and definitely holding something back. What was going on here?

She lowered her chin, met his gaze. “Kind of?”

“Okay, wait,” he said, holding his hands out before him. “I should have thought through how to tell you about this, because now that it’s time, I don’t quite know how to say it. So … give me a minute to think about the best way.”

Mira just looked at him. How complicated could this present be? He needed a “best way”? He sounded more like someone about to break bad news than a man giving a birthday gift to his girlfriend. “You’re starting to make me worry,” she admitted, still peering down into his handsome face.

“The thing about your gift,” he began, “is that I want you to love it, really love it. But … I’m not sure how you’ll take it.”

She blinked, thoroughly perplexed now, then finally laid her head back on his shoulder, drinking in his musky, masculine scent as she silently provided him that minute he’d requested. A bird twittered in a tree somewhere to her right and the late afternoon sun warmed her face as she looked out over Lake Superior in the distance. Blue skies and unseasonably warm June temps in northern Michigan made the scene complete. And up until a minute ago, she’d felt relaxed, happy, like he really
was
making up for the troubles they’d endured over the past year or so. But right now she didn’t know
what
to feel—and the uncertainty turned her thoughts unwittingly back to what had led them here, to this moment.

Ethan had been a workaholic since they’d started dating, and while she admired a strong work ethic—and particularly admired the pro bono legal work he’d embraced—over time she’d started feeling like she came in a distant second behind his career. And when, last summer, he’d canceled their Labor Day weekend boating plans with friends at the very last minute, she’d realized her life with him was starting to be … well, not all she’d hoped.

He was hot. Sexy. And great in bed. He was a good guy, a sincerely good man. In fact, Ethan West was the man she wanted to marry, and she’d known that almost from their first kiss. But then things had changed. He’d left the Charlevoix Police Force to study for the bar exam around the same time she’d moved in to his condo. And as soon as he’d passed the bar, he’d opened a small office not far from her shop, and business had been booming ever since for the quaint lakeside town’s newest young lawyer. Life had bustled along, and they’d been fine. Until his work had started taking priority over
her
.

And things hadn’t improved since Labor Day—and in reality they’d gotten worse. More late nights, more lost weekends. He could spend an entire dinner with her in a nice restaurant looking at his BlackBerry without ever even realizing he was leaving her virtually alone. And evenings at home that used to be spent
together
were now generally spent apart, him behind the closed door of their home office.

The truth was, right up until two weeks ago, she’d been seriously considering moving out. He didn’t know that, though—she’d never told him. Because when she did complain about being neglected, he never seemed to hear—except for the times when he threw it back at her, pointing out how hard he was working, that he didn’t need her nagging him on top of that, and how nice it would be to get some support. So he hadn’t exactly been understanding or apologetic; he’d come closer to making her feel like an insecure shrew and she’d soon learned to just keep the peace by not speaking up at all.

And one day … well, she’d even started packing a suitcase. Envisioning the goodbye note she would write. Thinking about the serious logistics of moving the rest of her things.

But then she’d stopped. Because she’d reminded herself one more time that she loved him, and that when he
was
there for her, things were amazing and the chemistry between them—both physical and emotional—was intense. She connected with Ethan in a way she never had with anyone else. Yet lately she’d been asking herself:
Can I give my life to a man who doesn’t put our relationship first? Is that what I want forever? And what if we move forward with getting married, having kids? Will he be that dad who never quite makes it to the recital or little league game? Will he be an absentee parent?

And then—like some kind of miracle—the day after she’d almost left him, he’d taken her to lunch at her favorite waterside bistro and told her he’d rented a cabin upstate for her birthday weekend. He’d said he knew he’d been neglecting her and was going to change. Flashing a seductive grin, he’d told her he wanted to spend her birthday making it up to her by “doing hot, nasty things to you in the sun. Then doing more hot, nasty things to you in the moonlight. With maybe a little sleep in between before we start over again.”

She’d bitten her lip, given him a smile across the table, and reached out to take his hand, utterly surprised and happier than she’d felt in a very long time. This was the old Ethan, the Ethan who’d swept her off her feet.

And now here they were, alone in the woods, and she’d begun to think that maybe he really
could
repair what he’d broken between them. He hadn’t so much as mentioned a case or a client since they’d left Charlevoix this morning. He’d even left his BlackBerry at home. And he was once again the man who went out of his way to show his affection in ways both great and small—he’d even brought along a few bottles of her favorite wine, one of which they’d opened to drink with dinner a little while ago. Ethan had grilled burgers—saving the steaks he’d brought for her birthday dinner tomorrow night—and they’d eaten at the picnic table on the dock down below the cabin and the hillside where they now lay. “I know wine doesn’t really go with hamburgers,” he’d said with a slightly sheepish grin, “but …”

And she’d just replied with a happy laugh. “Who cares? I like wine and I like burgers. And I especially like how thoughtful you’re being, Mr. West,” she’d added teasingly.

Normally, she wouldn’t have thought of renting a remote cabin as the way she wanted to spend her birthday, but the sentiment had touched her and now that they were here, she realized it was the perfect setting for a weekend of nonstop fucking. Since that was what she suddenly realized she wanted to do. Fuck him from now until Sunday, when it was time to leave. Their sex life had definitely begun to suffer over the past year, along with every other part of the relationship, and she was more than ready to get that back on track, too. And she supposed the wine had her feeling amorous. Even though they were outdoors, no other house was within sight, and the treed landscape added to the sense of isolation, so this felt as private as their bedroom at home—only a little more exciting.

Though she wasn’t the sort of girl who usually thought of sex as fucking. A little dirty talk in the bedroom was fun, but it almost surprised her when that particular way of describing it entered her mind.
I must really need this. I must really need to let go this weekend and just let my body have him the way I want him, with no inhibitions, nothing held back.
Because even when they did have sex … maybe she
had
held part of herself back lately, due to resentment, not feeling totally connected to him anymore.
Well, this weekend, no holding back. This weekend he gets all of me. Maybe even more than he’s ever had before.
She bit her lip, feeling naughty, aggressive.

And as for this mysterious gift of his—well, it would have to wait because she’d just decided there was no time like the present to have her way with her man. She boldly sat up, turned, and moved to straddle his thighs in the hammock. The netting beneath them wobbled and tilted, and for a second she feared it would flip them, but then it steadied, bringing her confidence back at the same time.

“Uh, what’s going on?” he asked, clearly jarred—but still a small, sexy smile reshaped his face as his hands came to rest on her denim-clad hips. She liked the feel of his eyes on her.

All of me. I want you to have all of me.
The words echoed through her as she spontaneously stripped her tank top off over her head, revealing a pale yellow bra with peach polka dots underneath. “I think I’m ready for some of that hot and nasty I was promised,” she replied, taking on a sexy pout.

In response, Ethan’s fingers splayed across her hips, then glided smoothly downward to stop high on her blue-jean-covered thighs. She felt every fingertip like a pinprick of electric heat. “Mmm, I like when you get aggressive,” he said. “And I hope you still feel just as ready after I tell you about your present.”

Oh, so he was back to the mystifying present again, huh? But she refused to let that get in the way of what she wanted right now, so she ran her palms up under his T-shirt, onto his muscled stomach, even as she asked, “Ever gonna end the suspense on that?”

When he squeezed both her thighs, she felt it between her legs. And his eyes twinkled warmly as he said, “Why don’t you lie back down with me for a minute and I’ll fill you in.”

She lowered her chin, slanting a questioning look in his direction. This required lying back down? Stopping her mid-seduction?

A sigh left her, and yet—even as stopping killed a little of her arousal, the strange secrecy going on here kept the spot between her thighs humming with anticipation. Anticipation of sex mingling with anticipation of the unknown.

Ethan eased her back down beside him, cradling her in his arms to say, “Do you remember that night last summer—that night when we had too much to drink and started talking about fantasies?”

She nodded. It had been an evening a lot like this one: warm weather, good wine, and a quiet dinner for two that had led them on a walk to a park, where they’d ended up cuddling on a bench. Intoxication had gotten them laughing at first, and then touching and kissing—and then Ethan had asked her what her most secret sexual fantasy was. “It’s okay, whatever it is,” he’d told her.

And she’d slowly, quietly admitted that in the darkest, most private parts of her mind … she sometimes wondered what it would be like to be with two men at the same time.

He’d asked her questions. “Do you want to have two cocks inside you at once?” “Do you want to be the one in control or do you want to have that taken away?” “How much have you thought about this?”

And she’d answered—with vague replies mostly, because her fantasies had been just that: vague. Not entirely formed. Undetailed. The truth, she’d told him, was that it had started with a dream—she’d woken up remembering she’d dreamed about a threesome with two guys. “And sometimes I think about it because it turned me on, but at the same time, I’m not entirely sure I’m
comfortable
thinking about it—you know?”

He’d grinned, clearly pleased, aroused, by her sharing that. “Think you’d ever really want to do it?” he’d whispered.

“Only … under some perfect circumstances that I can’t even really imagine,” she’d told him honestly. And that had pretty much ended the conversation. Though they’d had really good sex afterward, back at home.

So now, after a long hesitation, she finally answered his question. “Um, yeah, I remember. Why?”

“Well, what if I told you,” he answered slowly, reaching to skim his knuckles ever so lightly down her chest, between her breasts, “that for your birthday, I’m giving you your fantasy?”

Mira’s mouth dropped open as the blood drained from her face. “You’re what?” she whispered.

He spoke low, direct, but kindly. “You heard me.”

Lying on her back on the thick netting with Ethan peering down on her, she simply blinked, still not quite able to believe her ears. She felt like someone else, in some other place, time—her whole world transformed into something surreal she didn’t quite recognize. “But … but …”

Yet her lover only smiled—and it was perhaps the surest, most confident and in-control smile she’d ever seen on his face. “Don’t freak out, hon,” he said softly. “Just trust me.”

But Mira suddenly couldn’t breathe. And the sun that had lulled and relaxed her all afternoon now began to make her sweat, even as it dipped quietly toward the horizon through the trees to her left. Finally, she managed three words. “I don’t understand.”

At this, Ethan bent to lower a kiss to her forehead. And despite everything, even just that one chaste little kiss made the crux of her thighs tingle hotly. “Listen, relax,” he told her. “Relax and let me explain.”

He sounded so calm, so rational, that it
did
relax her. A little anyway. Maybe she’d misunderstood what he was saying. Maybe he meant something else entirely.

“I know I haven’t been a great boyfriend lately,” he began. “And I know it’s driven a wedge between us. I want to fix things, Mira. I want to make things right. I want to prove that making you happy is my top priority, starting now.”

She still just blinked up at him, taking in his features, everything handsome and sexy about him. She’d always loved his olive skin and his dark hair, black as night, traits left over from an Italian ancestry that had faded in name a generation or two ago but showed up in his family’s coloring. Now that dark hair stood out in bold contrast to the soft greens and browns above him, the trees that nestled their weekend hideaway and made it feel so deliciously remote. But the moment continued feeling utterly unreal—especially as he went on.

“I thought a lot about how to prove that, what I could give you to make up for how wrapped up in my practice I’ve been.”

She felt the need to interrupt. “You don’t have to give me anything more than this, just spending time with—” But he pressed gentle fingers over her mouth, quieting her.