Three to Tango (8 page)

Eight

A
va’s hands shook as she shoved her clothes into her case. She’d worry about wrinkles once she got back home.

“Just hold it together,” she whispered to herself, trying to ignore the masculine rumble downstairs. She’d just say good-bye, thank them for the last week and go. There was no reason to come back to Petal again, so there’d be no reason to promise anything of the sort.

A clean, easy break was what they all needed. She could be an adult about it. It had been great sex, and they’d kept her from thinking too much about her mother and everything. It was silly to be upset, after all, no one ever made any promises to her.

“You’re such a fucking liar,” she sneered as she pushed to stand, heading for the bathroom to grab her toiletries.

Her things had sort of taken residence in his bathroom, she thought with a melancholy air as she grabbed bottles and tubes, sliding them into the bag and zipping up. Just that morning she’d thought how nice that looked, her brush next to his on the counter, Angelo’s hair-product tube snuggled with hers.

Stupid. That’s what she was.

When she turned to go back into the bedroom, Luca popped his head around the corner. “There you are. Time to drop it and just tell us what the fuck is going on with you.” He crossed his arms, making him look even more sexy, and she narrowed her eyes at him for looking so good.

Angelo was on the bed, stretched out like a big predator, his hair loose, like he knew she liked,
bastard
, his gaze on her like he had a right to get her all stirred up right before she rode off into the sunset so he and Luca could be alone.

“I hope you’re not going to propose one for the road. I’m a little sore.”

She dumped the toiletries bag on top of the clothes.

“Why are you being such a bitch, pretty bird?” Angelo’s stillness sent a shiver up her spine. She’d never make it through the day without masturbating, damn it.

“I’m not. I’m trying to go, and you two are acting as if you’re trying to stop me, which is silly, isn’t it?”

He whipped his head a bit. “Come again?”

“I get it! God!” Frustrated, she knew the tears would come no matter what, so she may as well just get it said.

“You get what? Baby, who are you? You left earlier today and you were our Ava. Beautiful and sad, but this”—he motioned, meaning the three of them—“was working just fine. You can’t deny that. And you come back and you won’t look at us. You’re mad or we hurt you, is that it?”

“I am not mad. I just, well, anyway, I’ve overstayed my welcome and now I’m in the way. Just let me leave without any more drama.” She heard the entreaty in her own voice, but couldn’t stop it.

“What are you talking about? In the way of what?” Angelo was up and standing before her in a flash. The heat of his body blanketed hers. “I feel like we’re speaking two different languages. But you’re not leaving here until we’ve resolved this.”

She tried to move her head, to look anywhere but up into those knowing brown eyes, but he wouldn’t let go of her chin.

The sting of tears burned her eyes, her throat closed and a sob broke from her lips. His eyes widened and then two sets of arms embraced her.

She had nothing left. She’d thought she’d rebuilt herself in the last decade, but having to walk away from these two men, these people she loved more than anything or anyone in the universe would kill her. Maybe she’d take one of those six-month cruises and lick her wounds. Take a lover or five.

She nearly snorted at that.

“You gonna tell us, or do we have to beat it out of you?”

“Baby, we want you to stay here, don’t you get it? You’re running out of here like a scalded cat, and I don’t know why until you tell me,” Luca spoke, his lips against her ear.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she demanded, trying to push away.

“What? Tell me and I can explain. But at this point neither of us knows what you’re talking about.” Angelo loosened his embrace enough for her to look up at him, or over at Luca, but she kept her gaze fastened on the floor.

“And look me in the damned eyes when you talk to me, Ava. For fuck’s sake, you’re not that girl anymore and I was never that guy.” Angelo’s voice was angry, enough to have her head up, chin out.

“Why are you both acting like you want me here when it’s totally obvious you are just fine without me? It offends me to be lied to.”

Tears had begun to run down her cheek, so she wiped her face on Angelo’s loose shirttail when he wouldn’t let her free. Served him right.

Luca finally spoke, “
Fine without you?
Is that what you think? I’ve spent the last week thinking on ways to ask you to stay here, thinking on a plan that could get us together somehow. All of us. I want you to stay here, Ava. I want you to be with me every single day.”

She stared at him. “Stop! Oh my God, this hurts way more than you think it helps. My heart is broken. I can’t take it. Please just let me leave before I embarrass myself any further.”

Angelo stared at her, stunned. He struggled to put together what she’d said, mainly because her crying had gotten to that stuttery, hiccupy stage and it was hard to understand her. He’d never tell her so, but seeing her this way got to him. Seeing this strong, nearly unbreakable woman break had burrowed under his skin, spiked his adrenaline to just fix her and make her happy again.

Fuckety-fuck, he was in love with her in the grand, I’d-slay-dragons way.

“Embarrass yourself how? What haven’t we done in front of one another?
With
one another? What do you have to be embarrassed about, and why do you keep saying you want to leave? Who broke your heart so I can pummel him?”

“I l-l-love you both so much.” She wiped her face on his shirt again, and he tried not to laugh. “Bu-uu-t I can’t be your beard. I just c-c-can’t. I can’t watch you love him and not me. It’s shallow and p-petty and tot-tally unworthy of you both, but I can’t.”

Luca met Angelo’s gaze as he shook his head.

“Beard? You think that’s what we want?” Luca’s heart hurt for her as each sob wracked her body, but at the same time, it soared because she confessed she loved them both.

“I already have a beard. So does Luca. It makes kissing him scratchy, and he gets my thighs red when he sucks my cock. He was about to, actually, when you came in. Like he has before, with you right there in the room and a few times over the years, when you weren’t.”

“Three times, not that I was counting.” Luca kissed her temple. “Of all the things I want from you, you posing as my woman so I could have a relationship with my man is not even on the list. I don’t want you to pose as anything. I want you to be my woman for real.”

“When I came in and you two were together, laughing, touching, it was beautiful, as beautiful as it always is. But you were better without me here. I saw it for what it was and realized I’d been a fool.”

Luca let go long enough to grab a handkerchief and hand it to her.

“I agree.” Luca shrugged and Angelo snorted. “You’re being a fool right now. I love you, Ava. Before you got here, Angelo and I were talking about how to work things out so we could all be together. I can’t tell you I don’t want him. Hell”—Luca looked up to Angelo, who looked steadily back—“I love him, always have. I told him that, too.”

That frown line of hers appeared between her eyebrows, and Angelo, laughing, smoothed it away with his thumb. “We both decided you were worth the risks. As improbable as this all is, it feels too good to walk away from, doesn’t it?” He kissed her cheeks, tasting her tears. “I love you, Ava. I sent you flowers every five months because I couldn’t let go of you. I don’t want to now, either.”

She blinked up at them, nose running, breath hiccupping. “You do? You both do?” She looked to Luca.

“Yes. Baby, yes. We want you with us. However we can make it work. If you’re bothered by Angelo and I being together when you’re not around, we’ll work that out.”

“No!” she blurted out. “No. That’s not what … I wasn’t bothered that you were together without me. I just … I just thought there wasn’t room for me.”

“Plenty of cocks and plenty of places for us to use them.” Angelo’s lips curved up. “There’s room for you. An Ava-spaced spot in our lives that’s been empty for ten years. You can’t come back here, make us fall for you even harder and then run back to LA.”

“I didn’t expect this.” She licked her lips. “But I’m glad for it anyway. I’m sort of like a pit bull, you know. Just warning you, once I get hold of you two, I’m not letting go. My job is pretty portable.” She smiled hopefully.

“I may have noticed your tenacious streak. Does this mean you want to try?”

She cupped Luca’s cheek. “How do
you two
see this working anyway?”

“Carefully, with liberal amounts of sex to keep everyone calm and happy.” Luca winked. “I love you. He loves you. You love us and that’s the foundation for a strong future. We’ll have to step carefully, but if we all talk about things openly, I think we can make it work.”

“Your mother knows. She came to the house today. And helped me through it. She said enough that I know she understands this thing is more than just you and me. She asked me if I loved you. Over ice cream and around your dad, who was totally trying to eavesdrop.”

“And you told her?”

“I told her I did. That I’ve loved you since I was a girl and you two played football and broke all sorts of hearts in town. And I said I loved you now. I told her it was complicated and she said, ‘Angelo,’ and I said, ‘Yes, I love him, too.’ ”

Angelo watched her carefully, the mask of the hardened youth firmly in place. She wanted to wash that look away forever.

“She told me she knew and that things wouldn’t be easy, but that usually easy was boring anyway. And then she changed the subject.”

He allowed himself to smile, leaning down to brush his lips over her forehead.

Angelo hugged her tight and looked over to Luca. “It would seem we’ve got some issues between us. You sure you want all this baggage, Luca?”

“Hell yes. You’ll have to deal with mine, too. That’s love right there, baby, baggage and all.”

“This won’t be easy, you know. This is complicated and pretty freaking alternative-lifestyle. Angelo, people know your face. You’re a celebrity. What if folks find out?”

“I can’t lie. If and when this comes out, some will react very negatively. I’ve made a pledge to help my nieces and nephews pay for college. My media money is all for that. Naturally, I’d prefer to keep this quiet and private. Not to hide it because I’m ashamed,” he added quickly and she nodded. “But if people find out, they’ll find out. I can’t
not
touch you, Ava, any more than I can’t
not
be with you. We’ll take it one step at a time.”

Luca pressed in again. “So? What do you say? Come back to Petal and you’ll always have a front-row seat for fireworks on our dock. You can always escape to Angelo’s to swim in the pool.”

“Or get fucked on my pool table.” Angelo’s eyes lit. “Both of you. Perfect height to take you from behind, Luca. Perfect height to lay you out, eat your pussy until you scream and then flip you over to fuck you until you scream again.”

They left her momentarily speechless as each ground his erection against her.

“Anyone want to take a road trip from LA in a moving truck with me, my stuff and my dog?”

She was still laughing as they took her to the mattress. But not for long.

JUST FOR ONE NIGHT

MEGAN HART

One

“Gorgeous.” Jeremy looked over Kerry’s shoulder at their mutual reflection as his hands came to rest on her hips. The smooth fabric of her dress bunched a little under his fingertips.

At the heat of him against her back she shivered, studying herself with a jaded eye. She turned her face from side to side, checking out the dangling bead-and-chain earrings that brushed her neck, which was bared by her upswept hair. Then her makeup, applied a little more thickly tonight than was her norm. And finally, again at the dress that Jeremy had picked out for her. There was a lot of cleavage. She leaned back against him a little, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

“You think so, huh?”

He kissed the side of her neck. The swift, hot flick of his tongue created an answering pull in her cunt. Jeremy’s fingers slipped higher, over the dress’s sleek material. He cupped her breasts, pushing them together so they almost spilled out altogether. “Definitely. He’ll fucking love it.”

Kerry laughed even as her stomach took a slow, rolling tumble. “I hope so.”

“He will.”

“He wasn’t into me so much back then. What’s to say his tastes have changed?”

Jeremy tweaked her braless nipples so they stood out against the material. His breath gusted over her neck, and Kerry’s clit pulsed, just once. She shifted, the silk of her panties rubbing her bare pussy. Jeremy had shaved her nearly bare, leaving only a landing strip. She never shaved that close, just trimmed her bikini area and kept her curls close-cropped. This bare flesh against the silk was new. Exciting. Distracting.

“He could be gay,” Kerry added. “That would explain a lot.”

“Baby, a gay man would pop a rod at the sight of you in this dress. Brian Jordan doesn’t have a chance.”

She turned then to face him. Her arms slid up around his neck. In her three-inch heels she could look him in the eye. “Are you sure about this?”

Jeremy’s gaze flickered, but he smiled. He cupped her ass and pulled her close to him. He ground his crotch against her, his cock thick and hard beneath his jeans. “It’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Kerry nodded and kissed him. “Well … sure. But …”

Jeremy had dragged the admission out of her late one night in the summer heat, windows open and even sheets too heavy for sleeping. He’d been kneeling between her legs, lapping slowly at her clit. Teasing her toward orgasm, then pulling back just enough to keep her from surging over. He’d made her tell him secrets. The fact that she’d once dreamed of giving up her virginity to Brian Jordan had only been one of them.

“But nothing. You wanted him back then. You told me you did. And now’s your chance to get him. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing’s wrong with it. Just that … Are you sure you’re okay with this?” She studied his face, looking for any hint or inkling of a lie.

Jeremy laughed and rubbed her ass in slow circles, then stepped back. “You’re still coming home to me, right?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re going to tell me every dirty, nasty detail. Right?”

Kerry drew in a breath at the thought of it. Not just of doing it—seducing and fucking Brian Jordan. Living out an adolescent dream. But of coming home and telling her boyfriend of eighteen months about it. “Most men wouldn’t be okay with their girlfriends fucking another guy. Much less want to know all about it.”

“What can I say? I’m not most men.”

She knew that already. Eighteen months in this relationship and Jeremy managed to surprise her almost every day. She wondered if she’d ever learn him the way he seemed to know her. “No. You certainly aren’t.”

He spun her around to face the mirror again. One hand anchored her hip. The other inched her skirt up over her thigh. His fingers traced patterns on her skin, then over her panties. Kerry watched, mesmerized, as his forefinger circled the silk over her clit with such a light touch she could barely feel it.

“Relax,” Jeremy said into her ear. “He’s gonna fucking love you. I told you that already.”

“I don’t need him to love me. Just want me.” Kerry shivered again at Jeremy’s brushing touch. She wanted to tip her hips, push her cunt into his hand. Get more. She didn’t. Every muscle in her body felt taut, tense. “Just for one night.”

Brian had spent a good fifteen minutes in the parking lot behind the wheel of his car, checking his hair, his breath, the front of his suit for wrinkles. Reunions were supposed to be all about showing up and showing off, seeing what your classmates had done—or hadn’t done—with their lives. Sure, he was glad to see old high school pals he hadn’t seen or heard from in years. It was always cool to catch up with people he’d once spent more time with than his own family. On the other hand, he’d kept in touch with anyone who was really important to him, even if it was only through the vagueness of Connex updates. So this reunion was maybe just an excuse to compare the size of one another’s bank accounts … or balls.

Brian had a lot to brag about. He had a great job, a sweet apartment, a nice car. Time had been kind to him, too. Fifteen years and a conscientious workout program had put some muscle, not fat, on him. Only one or two strands of silver streaked his dark hair, and only a line or two around the eyes spoke of laughter, not age. In his regular life he was damned happy with what he saw in the mirror, so why did the reflection of his eyes in the rearview make him want to burn rubber and peel out of the lot without even going inside?

Two words: Kerry Grayson. He’d seen her name in the RSVP list on the website the reunion committee had set up and couldn’t decide whether to fist-punch the air or groan. She was definitely not one of the people he’d kept in touch with, though he had seen her once at a party the summer after their freshman year of college. And he’d never admit it, but he’d stalked her Connex profile more than once, checking out her photos and musing over her relationship status—“It’s complicated.”

What did that mean, anyway? That she had a boyfriend or a husband and it wasn’t working out? That she was single but didn’t want the world to know?

Finally, he forced himself to get out of the car. He shook each pant leg to get the creases out. Twisted his watch on his wrist and tugged at his cuffs. Slid his tie a little tighter against his throat. He was as ready as he was ever going to be, which was to say not very.

He could hear the music already as he walked through the Hotel Hershey’s lobby toward the ballroom. A blend of late eighties and early nineties pop hits, stuff with a heavy bass beat and lyrics he didn’t know. The table in front of the ballroom had a lot of folded white cards with names written on them in fancy black script. Brian found his right away but tried to make it look like he hadn’t so he’d have time to scope out the others. Kerry’s was still there. Damn.

“Brian Jordan. Hey, handsome.”

Brian turned to face the feminine voice behind him and got tugged into an impromptu and not entirely welcome hug by a mass of blonde hair and a cloud of perfume. “Hey … uh …”

“It’s me. Gina? Gina Barton!” She nudged him. “Wow, long time no see, huh?”

Gina Barton. Of course. He’d taken her to homecoming their senior year. Felt her up in the backseat of his parents’ car. She’d dumped him after that but had continued to flirt with him mercilessly for the rest of the year. He’d never figured out why. Back then he’d never been able to get a handle on why girls did what they did. Not that he’d gotten much better at it over the years.

“Gina, sure, hey. You look …” She looked older, for one thing. Harder. She looked like she spent a lot of time exercising and tanning, and it hadn’t been good to her. “Good. It’s good to see you.”

She hugged him again, her boozy breath wafting over him. “C’mon inside. Open bar only lasts another half an hour, and the hors d’oeuvres, too.”

Brian allowed himself to be led through the double doors into the ballroom, which had been set up with a DJ and dance floor at one end, tables covered with white cloths and balloons in the middle and the bar at the other end. He spotted a couple of guys he’d played soccer with and waved, but Gina wasn’t about to let go of his arm. She tugged him toward the bar, keeping up the conversation about who was here, who wasn’t coming, what they were having for dinner and a thousand other things Brian didn’t really care about.

He did his best to look interested though, sipping at a glass of Jameson and soda while Gina tossed back a shot of tequila. He was saved by the entrance of a couple that he didn’t recognize but she did. Then, just as she’d done fifteen years ago, she dumped him and ran off.

Brian spent the next few minutes hanging at the bar, nodding across the room at people whose names he thought he should know but wasn’t sure he remembered. He’d just taken another sip of his drink, relishing the burn of liquor in his throat, when he saw her. Kerry. She paused in the double doors and several flashing red-and-blue lights crisscrossed over her.

His guts hit his shoes, and he choked a little on his drink. She looked … perfect. There was no other way to describe her. Everything about her, from the fancy twisted hairdo to the clingy dress that swung just above her knees and dipped low in front, was enough to make him a praying man. Brian had met very few women who could leave him speechless, but he couldn’t have said a word just then if someone had poked him with a sharp stick.

She scanned the crowd. Looking for someone, maybe? Found them, he saw, when she waved, grinning, and crossed the room to hug a couple of women. Just like high school dances, he thought. Boys on one side, girls on the other, with a few brave souls mingling on the dance floor. That would change as the night wore on, helped by booze. But for now a wave of nostalgia swept over him so fiercely he had to give himself a surreptitious sniff to make sure he didn’t smell like Drakkar Noir.

Kerry had been in all of Brian’s classes since kindergarten. In tenth grade they were lab partners for biology. Senior year they’d had trigonometry together. He’d sat just behind her. Brian had never been able to figure out what perfume she wore, something light and flowery, but even now remembering the scent made his cock twitch. It was a wonder he hadn’t flunked the class completely, since he’d spent so much time thinking of baseball, not math. He could remember watching the way her earrings swung. Every time she shifted in her seat, bumping his desk, he’d felt it in his dick. They’d been partners in class when the teacher gave them free time to prepare for tests and in the third period study hall they shared in the library, where they’d spent more time laughing than studying. They’d spent hours on the phone with the excuse of higher math connecting them, though he could remember a hundred conversations they’d had and none had involved numbers.

But he’d been a lame-ass punk, he’d never asked her out no matter how much he’d wanted to. Then he’d found out she was going out with some guy from another school when she showed up for class one day wearing a huge class ring wrapped with yarn to keep it on her finger. That’s when he’d asked out Gina, and Kerry had stopped asking him to help her during study periods.

He’d never asked her out, but he had kissed her at that party during the summer between freshman and sophomore years of college. She’d smelled the same as she always had and tasted better than he’d imagined. They’d both been drunk, the music pumping a lot like it was now. He could remember how she’d breathed his name when he put his hand under her skirt, how she hadn’t pushed him away when his fingers found her heat. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember much past that except the next day’s hangover.

“Brian. Hi.”

Shit.
She was right in front of him, and he was just standing there looking like an asshole. How had he crossed the entire room to her without paying attention? His feet had known what his dick wanted, he guessed, and Brian cursed himself for looking like a dumbass.

“K-Kerry. Right?” Ah, shit again. Like he didn’t know her name.

She tilted her head the tiniest bit to the side to look at him. “Yeah. It’s me.”

“Long time …”

“No see, right,” she finished for him with a low, throaty laugh that tightened his balls. “But hey, that’s what reunions are for, right?”

“Is it?”

She stepped a little closer to say into his ear, “Sure. Well, that and catching up with old … friends.”

She’d leaned a little too close for casual conversation. Brian’s crotch was getting tighter by the second, especially when he caught a glimpse of the glitter she’d dusted on her cleavage. At this angle he had quite a view.

“Let’s get a drink,” Kerry said. “Catch up.”

She was off to the bar before he could reply, tempting him with the swing of her hips to follow. And he did, just like a dog, trotting after her though his drink wasn’t even half finished. He caught up to her at the bar, where she’d ordered some sort of fruity, girlie drink the bartender served up with a slice of orange in it. She sipped, eyeing him over the glass.

“So. Brian. I guess now’s the time when we brag about our jobs and our amazing love lives and compare notes on how many toys we’ve managed to acquire, right?”

He glanced around the room at the groups of twos and fours, then at her. “That seems to be the standard. Yeah.”

Kerry sipped at her drink again, then set it down along with her place card at the table closest to the bar. She shook her head, setting her earrings dancing so Brian could only stare, mesmerized at the glitter of light reflecting off the beads. “Fuck that. Let’s dance, instead.”

He was already putting down his drink and letting her take his hand. Following her again, this time to the nearly empty dance floor, where Kerry turned and faced him with a smile that lit up her eyes. She looked mischievous. She looked blazing hot.

Brian didn’t know the song, but at least it had a good beat. Too bad he was a lousy dancer. Kerry laughed as she twirled and shook her hips and he did the frat-boy shuffle, one-step, two-step, side to side. He wasn’t even going to try and get any hand action in there. They had the whole dance floor to themselves, at least, and probably the attention of a lot of people in the room, but Brian didn’t care.

“You’re a great dancer,” he said over the music.