Unbroken: Country Fever, Book 3 (4 page)

At the hallway leading to the bedrooms, Christian called Tucker’s name. No answer.

After revolving through the house with the rough wood walls and the stone hearths, he headed back outside into the cooler evening air. He scanned the fencing that housed Boomerang and saw Tucker’s hard form leaning against the fence.

This was a first. Tucker was always ready for Christian, remote in hand, lube on the side table.

But his head was dipped low, so only the back brim of his cowboy hat was up. Christian crossed the porch and drifted down the steps, boots scraping the wood. As he neared, Tucker lifted his head.

“You watching the corn grow again?” Christian asked.

A snort of laughter emerged from his friend. “Asshole.”

“Not as much as you,” he jabbed lightly. Christian braced his forearms on the split-rail fence, shoulder to shoulder with Tucker. The dark scents of pine and man filtered into his senses, causing the knot in his stomach to tighten with want.

“Get the beer this time?”

“It’s already in the fridge.”

“That’s good. I could use one after I discovered how much money it will take to repair the body of my Ram.”

Tucker’s voice was tight with something Christian couldn’t identify. He sent him a sidelong look. The man’s face was in the shadows, but even if he’d been standing in a beam of sunlight, Christian knew his expression would still be inscrutable. He did that—hid behind a mask.

Christian shifted, brushing shoulders with Tucker. A spike of desire sank deep into his groin. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop her before she did that last thousand dollars’ worth of damage.”

The corner of Tucker’s mouth twitched. “Just that last thousand?”

“Well, yeah, I wouldn’t want to put a financial strain on you.”

At that, Tucker laughed out loud. He gripped Christian’s shoulder and squeezed. Their gazes met. Dark blue sparks glittered in Tucker’s. “I’m not worried about getting it fixed for a while. Let’s break open that beer.”

And break out our cocks.

Christian followed his friend into the house, aware of the long lines of his back and the hard muscles rolling beneath his western shirt and Wranglers. Tucker went to the kitchen for the beer, which was new too, since Christian was always the beer runner.

Unsure of what to do with himself, Christian shuffled around the living room, listening to the refrigerator door opening and closing. When Tucker entered the space, a cloud of testosterone crowded in with him.

Christian swallowed hard and wordlessly accepted the beer. The dynamics had changed between them, but why? Had it been Tucker’s apology? Or the fact that he felt the need to apologize at all?

“Been thinking a lot about Claire today.” His friend’s words made Christian’s heart constrict.

Sinking to his regular spot on the sofa, Christian cracked open his beer. “Yeah?”

“I fucked up.”

“So go get her back.”

“I intend to.”

Without thought, Christian’s words tumbled out. “I want to be part of that. As a third.”

Tucker’s gaze snapped to his and clung. A painful heartbeat stretched between them. Unable to battle his need anymore, Christian set his beer aside, leaned back on the sofa and unzipped his jeans.

A quiet noise broke from Tucker as he sank to the recliner and did the same. The grating noise of his zipper lowering had Christian’s cock hard and weeping with pre-come. While nudging his jeans and boxers off his hips, he kicked off his boots. Usually Christian left his T-shirt on, but today he yanked it off too, leaving him completely bare.

Every inch of himself exposed to Tucker.

Taking his cue, Tucker stripped down too, abandoning jeans with the leather belt and silver buckle still in the loops. When his pearl-button shirt hit the carpet, Christian drank in the sight of his friend’s well-muscled chest, sprinkled with golden brown hair.

Christian rubbed a palm over his own bare chest to the dark trail of hair leading to his cock. As one, he and Tucker cupped their balls, fondling the tight sacs, gazes locked on each other. Webs of want spread through Christian’s body as he thought about finally dropping to his knees and taking Tucker’s long shaft in his mouth. Of sucking that dark purple head and gathering the ropes of come.

He shuddered.

Tucker rolled his shaft through his hand, pumping it once and holding it out, erect, for Christian to see the glistening tip.

Choking off a groan, Christian fisted his cock, pressing down on the flared head so the tip slitted. Juices oozed out.

Then they were off. Hips rocking upward to meet their hands, cords standing out on Tucker’s neck and Christian’s belly dipping with each harsh breath.

Tucker threw his head back and slid down in the chair a bit, parting his legs and giving Christian the peek at the shadow beneath his balls.

Fuck, that does it for me every time.

With a guttural cry, Christian came. Jets of cream spurted over his knuckles and shot upward onto his abs. Blinding waves of pleasure enveloped him along with the scents of pine and musk.

“Jesus,” Tucker groaned.

Christian jerked his gaze to his friend’s, watched Tucker’s pupils dilate until his blue irises were almost obliterated. Another hot spurt of come shot out of Christian’s cock.

And Tucker came. Pearly ropes stretched from his pulsating shaft to his tanned skin. Christian issued a final moan. As Tucker unraveled, Christian held his friend’s gaze.

Were they only friends? Or did sharing this intimacy make them lovers?

Tucker’s eyes slipped closed as he continued to glide his cock through his palm, that distracting chin dimple winking. In the other room, the air conditioner whirred to life. Outside, one of Tucker’s roosters gave a last crow at the setting sun.

Usually, he and Tucker sat around and watched some movies and drank more beer until they’d recovered from their session.

It wouldn’t take Christian long to work himself into a frenzy again. His shaft was still rock-hard, bouncing against his stomach. Tucker ran his fingers down his arousal to his balls, which he gently kneaded in the after-bliss.

Tucker gave a nod at Christian’s obvious state of need. He arched a long, golden brow. “A movie then we’ll go again?”

Again and again.
“Fuck, yeah,” Christian grated out as Tucker switched on the TV.

The diner was a dead zone tonight. Not a customer in the house. With a rodeo taking place nearby and it being a Thursday night, Claire hadn’t even seen the regular group of kids coming in after their football game at the high school. No Bob the fruit truck driver stopping for a ham steak after a long day of hopping from supermarket to small town grocery. Not even Mr. Lundy from the post office, hanging around for hours and drinking coffee to avoid going home to his lonely house.

Claire sighed and flattened her palms against the counter, pushing up and hitching her rear onto the laminate. The cook, with nothing to keep her occupied, was sitting on a chair with the back door propped open, smoking into the night.

Without anyone to talk to, Claire was left to think.

Last night at The Hellion, she’d barely gotten one song’s worth of dancing in before the blonde who Tucker had taken to bed came in and found her. Dropping dramatically to the empty chair at the table where Claire and her friends were sitting, the woman said, “I’m Allie. We talked a few days ago in the diner. I wanted to apologize for that night. I was a little crazed.” She rolled her eyes and fluttered her hands as if to punctuate her point.

“It’s fine,” Claire said, trying not to notice the way Allie’s peachy cleavage spilled perfectly over her low-cut top or the way her hair was styled like the most up-to-date movie starlet’s.

Allie leaned across the table, causing it to tremble on uneven legs. Claire’s Long Island Iced Tea sloshed over the rim. “I wasn’t even drinking that night, but I felt high and drunk both. Gawd, any girl would be out of her head after an experience like that!”

“I don’t want to hear this. Go tell someone who gives a fuck.” Claire stood abruptly, completely knocking over her drink. She snagged up her purse and rushed to the ladies’ room, fighting her rising tears.

The ache in her heart was still a dull thud, but at any given moment, it could flare into a hot, angry pain. She circled a forefinger over the laminate, tracing the swirls.

Where was she going in life? Working a dead-end job with no man in her future. She was going to end up listening to everyone’s joys and never knowing her own.

The bell on the door tinkled. At the sound, she hopped off the counter and glanced up.

She stopped breathing.

Tucker.

And right behind him, Christian.

Claire backed up until the counter dug painfully into her spine.
Please don’t make me wait on you.

The last thing she was capable of was acting nonchalant while serving eggs and home fries to the man she was in love with—especially when she wanted to roll out of his bed and pad off to his kitchen to prepare them herself.

But the look on Tucker’s handsome face told her that he was here for more than eggs. She’d seen that blazing look before, right before he trapped her hands behind her back and bent her over a hay bale.

Dark heat slithered downward to capture her folds. Her nipples bunched up hard.

“We’ve got some unfinished business, Claire.” When Tucker used this commanding tone, she’d follow him around like a pony, doing tricks until he rewarded her with the sweet sugar of his kisses.

He and Christian strode across the dining room, muscles rolling with purpose. She dragged in a harsh breath. “I don’t think—”

“I do.” Tucker planted his hands on her waist and leaned over her, dizzying her with his personal spice before he slammed his mouth over hers. She gasped around his lips, and he slid in his tongue. Plundering. Stealing any protestation.

Her body reacted with a violent shiver. Cream soaked her panties as she took note of his hardness—every inch of it.

Christian made a noise that brought Tucker’s head up. He stared into her eyes for a split second before plucking her off her feet and bearing her to the back of the diner, past the mish-mash of photographs plastering the walls of several generations of patrons. Smiling faces. Voyeuristic faces.

Tucker pressed her into the last booth and crowded in beside her. Christian hung back a little, leaning against a table a few feet off. She sent Christian a frantic look, but he gave her a slow, amused smile that twisted the knot tighter in her core.

“Wait, Tucker—”

He nuzzled her temple, spattered kisses down to her jaw then circled around to her earlobe, which he bit sharply.

She squirmed, watching Christian’s smile widen.

“What’s going on?” While she longed for more of Tucker’s kisses—the hottest brand she’d ever known—she couldn’t let him drag her heart behind his horse anymore.

“I never laid a hand on Allie,” Tucker whispered into her ear. Hot words that did hotter things to her body and incinerated her heart.

“But…”

Tucker’s blue eyes loomed close as he stared into hers. “That was Christian. Sometimes we…watch each other. Christian thinks you’re as gorgeous as I do. In fact, you’ve been the object of one of our joint fantasies.”

She twitched as he slipped a finger down her spine. Her breath came faster. Joint fantasy? Her mind reeled around the words, and she opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Tucker’s slow grin heated her core. But his statement melted her into a puddle of want. “Right now, Christian wants me to finger your pussy so he can see. You all right with that, baby?”

Her leg muscles burned to snap shut even as she hungered to let them part.

“Beautiful Claire, I’m sorry.” He nipped her throat in that sweet spot that made all the hair on her body stand up. “Let me make it up to you. And let Christian be witness to it.”

Briefly, a thread of a question wove through her mind.
Make it up to me by getting me off in front of another man?
But then Tucker plunged his tongue into her mouth, and she lost control completely.

A long minute passed as she let Tucker’s flavors fill her head even as Christian looked on. His strong presence and hooded gaze excited the hell out of her.

“With Christian?” Tucker asked.

“Yes,” she gasped between kisses.

Her breath hitched as he inched rough fingers up her inner thighs to her soaking heat. Christian crossed his arms and leaned back a bit, his gaze directed under the table. Tucker positioned her, draping a calf over his big thigh and pushing aside the small patch of fabric covering her pussy.

Being back in his arms again, with his mouth on hers, drove away thoughts of her surroundings and the previous state of her heart. She gave in to the swirling caress of his fingertip on her clit.

Christian’s moan reverberated in the quiet of the diner. Tucker echoed it, easing his finger over her slit and into her dripping channel. Shards of electric desire burst inside her. She bucked her hips, trying to draw his thick digit into her pussy.