The Billionaire Bad Boys Club(55)
Author: Emma Holly

“But she can. We’re not opening the Lounge to the general public for a week. Unless you have business you can’t put off, now is the ideal time for a sex vacation.”

The elevator creaked to a stop in the basement. Neither man shifted to get out. “You realize she probably hasn’t taken a vacation since her dad walked out,” Zane said.

Trey opened his mouth to argue and then shut it. “Really?”

“That’s my best guess. Plus, saying the V word sets off warning bells for some chicks. You date a guy you’re getting to know. You vacation when it’s serious.”

A warning bell rang belatedly in his head. Shit. Had Missy assumed he was serious when he’d agreed to join her for the weekend?

Unaware of his mental side trip, Trey frowned stubbornly. “This is serious. And we could do it now. We could spend a whole week playing and seeing if this arrangement can work out. You said yourself you wanted to give it a try.”

He had said that. As usual, Trey was a couple steps ahead of him in commitment. Zane couldn’t deny the appeal of what his friend seemed to be aiming for—at least he didn’t think he could. He rubbed the groove between his lower lip and chin. “You’re talking long-term here? You want to make Rebecca a regular part of our lives?”

“I do.” Although Trey’s answer was firm, his hands gripped his end of the cart as if they might break it. Beneath his neck tattoo, a nervous pulse was beating. The enclosed space they stood in made the conversation feel even more intense. “I think you want it too, Zane, even if you’re not ready to admit it. You told her things you never tell anyone. You’ve thought about her as a person and not a bimbette. You’re trying to figure her out. Hell, you might have done a better job of it than me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t lay odds on that.” Zane looked into Trey’s face as he weighed the situation, aware Trey was watching every expression that flitted through his eyes. “You wouldn’t expect me to get over all my hang-ups at once?”

“Cross my heart,” Trey promised.

“She does seem to be into both of us.”

“She does,” Trey agreed.

“And into both of us taking her at once.”

“Which we’re also into,” Trey pointed out with his lips curving. “I honestly believe we’d have a better chance of victory as a team.”

Zane smiled at his coaxing tone. Trey was cute when he thought he’d won an argument. “All right,” he said. “You and I are now partners in seduction.”

That settled, Trey heaved the elevator gate open. After Trey lifted the cart’s wheels over the gap, Zane pushed it into the dark corridor. A few lights burned in the kitchen, guiding their progress there.

“If we’re partners,” Trey said, continuing their joint train of thought, “we need a strategy. I think you’re right about Rebecca being likely to resist.”

Zane’s groin took on weight at his words. A memory rolled across his mind: Trey humping her atop the red Bugatti, his hands on her outstretched wrists, her br**sts bouncing merrily. She’d writhed at him cuffing her, just as she’d writhed for Zane when he restrained her with his belt.

“We have to show her the playroom,” he blurted.

Trey halted so suddenly Zane almost bumped his legs with the cart. He turned to stare back at him. “Not right away surely?”

“Yes, right away. We knows she’s afraid of relaxing, afraid of—”

“—liking things too much?” Trey suggested.

“Yes. She doesn’t know how to let go and enjoy. We need to . . . provide the illusion of taking that decision out of her hands.”

Trey considered this, but Zane was almost certain he’d agree. A tent was forming behind his dark blue robe, large enough that Zane perceived the thin silk shifting. His own robe had been rising already. Seeing Trey throw a boner finished the job swiftly.

“We’d start tomorrow?” his lover asked.

“Early,” Zane confirmed huskily.

Trey spotted the developments at Zane’s crotch. One of his eyebrows rose, but he wasn’t surprised. Neither of their appetites was modest. “Should we, maybe . . .”

“No.” The roughness in Zane’s voice increased. “At least for a while, I don’t think we should get off without her.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bound

A MOTHERLY woman the men referred to as Mrs. P served a hot breakfast in their suite. Quiet and efficient, she also seemed good-natured.

“Let me know if you need anything you’d rather not ask these two for,” she said to Rebecca. “Whatever it is, the staff or I can get it.”

The scope of the offer impressed. If Rebecca asked for a spaceship, would one appear on the lawn?

For the moment, breakfast was sufficient. Zane and Trey dug in without conversation, so she guessed they weren’t morning folk. That was all right with her. The food was good enough to take up her attention.

“Don’t get dressed while we’re gone,” Trey said sternly when he and Zane excused themselves to shower. “We have business we want to discuss with you.”

She’d planned to pull on her clothes and go. It was after ten by then. She wanted to stop at her house, maybe check the Internet for early reports on last night’s event at the Lounge. She knew Trey’s people were on top of PR, but it couldn’t hurt to touch base with her contacts in the media. Though these were reasonable intentions, she didn’t pursue them. The way Trey said business made it impossible.

Her curiosity as to whether he and Zane were sharing more than a shower also might have kept her there.

Maybe it would be okay to poke her head in, but they hadn’t invited her. So what if she wanted to soap their lovely backs—or watch them soap each other’s? Being inordinately intrigued by what they were getting up to was no excuse for invading their privacy.

She’d gotten the robe she’d borrowed a little sweaty by the time they emerged from the walk-in closet that connected to the bathroom. Somewhat to her frustration, she couldn’t tell if they’d had sex. Though the color on their cheeks was high, they didn’t wear the languor that went with orgasms.

They also weren’t wearing the playboy robes they’d left in.

“You dressed,” she complained. They wore white T-shirts with no sleeves and sweat shorts—Zane’s in gray and Trey’s black. They were so fit the simple workout clothes looked ridiculously hot. Either could have graced a spread in their magazine. The Bad Boys get casual! the caption might have said.