Fairyville (Fairyville #1)(30)
Author: Emma Holly

Bryan’s eyes went round. Apparently, Alex hadn’t shared the "extra" aspect to her gift. To his credit, Alex’s partner didn’t say a word. He didn’t even roll his eyes.

"Maybe we should go now," Alex said, rising awkwardly from the cluttered table. "Before Mrs. Fairfax locks us out."

"You… could stay here," Zoe offered hesitantly.

"No," both men said in unison.

"That’s nice of you," Alex added, "but we don’t want to put you out."

The fact that Alex had refused so quickly increased her sureness that they should stay. As long as both men were here, being a couple, she and Alex couldn’t get into trouble on their own. Otherwise, trouble was exactly where she was headed. She couldn’t have sat across from him for the last hour, struggling not to squirm each time he looked at her, and not know that.

"At least for tonight," she said more firmly. "You’ve both been drinking, enough that you shouldn’t drive back to town. My guest room’s clean, and it’s got a bath. Plus, I can guarantee you a ghost-free night."

"No ghosts in the medium’s house?" Bryan asked with a crooked smile.

"Nope. The angels and I clear ’em out. I like to unplug the switchboard when I come home."

"In that case, we’d be grateful to stay," Alex said. "For tonight."

His eyes were as blue as the jets beneath her gas burners. She couldn’t count the times she’d watched them blazing down at her like that, sure in the knowledge that she’d say yes to whatever alternative to going all the way he’d decided he was going to let them try that night. She’d watched them burn even hotter over acts he’d longed to try but hadn’t had the nerve to, for fear his control would snap. They’d flown close to the flame in those days, but never as close as either of them wanted.

Seeing that look again, feeling it turn her insides to molten lava, she had to wonder how she’d managed to stay a virgin for more than ten minutes after they’d met.

"I’ll… just get fresh sheets," she said, too aroused to hide the huskiness in her voice.

"Thanks," Alex responded, his always gravelly baritone sunk to a level that sent chills rippling down her spine.

He wasn’t unaffected by their lingering looks. He was thinking about unfinished business, too.

She was glad for the excuse to leave, blushing furiously as she was. To her surprise, both men turned to watch her when she passed the breakfast nook, their eyes like big, warm hands slipping down her skin. She’d been assuming Bryan was g*y instead of bi, but perhaps she’d misjudged.

Oh, boy, she thought. Maybe having them stay here together wasn’t the safest choice after all.

Chapter Eight

Zoe’s guest room wasn’t the personality-free box Bryan expected. On either side of the window, two mismatched iron bedsteads sat. They were draped with colorful antique quilts, each stacked with sufficient pillows for three people. A round braided rug lay on the hardwood floor, faded enough to have been washed many times. On the warm patina of the adobe walls an assortment of Native American baskets hung, their simple artistry offset by a rusted "Nu-Grape" sign. In the corner a skirted table held a sewing machine, evidence of what Zoe did in here. That one indication of functionality pointed up the truth even more.

This was a guest room for visitors she liked.

Oddly touched, Bryan propped his shoulder on the edge of the deep window, watching Zoe and Alex dress the beds in new sheets. Amusingly, both were blushing, both pointedly not asking whether they only needed to dress one. Seeing them practically vibrate with lust should have hurt him, should have reminded him of all those times in college when he’d watched Alex get hot and bothered over some girl. Instead, he felt a bit roasty himself.

He was staying tonight, and Zoe would leave. She wasn’t going to creep in here at 2 a.m. and steal Alex away, because she wasn’t that kind of woman. She knew he and Alex were together—though probably not how temporarily—and she was going to do her damnedest to respect that.

Suspecting this was going to drive her as crazy as it was driving Alex sent his blood thumping to his groin. Zoe was a hottie, as tempting in her way as Alex was. Those legs of hers were spectacular, those boyish h*ps and that high, tight ass. And—Lord—when she bent over to tuck in the sheets, he saw what Alex couldn’t from the other side of the bed. Her silky green shorts were damp, right where the cloth stretched over her pu**y.

It was enough to make Bryan’s mouth water, to make his fingers curl into his palms with an urge to cup and squeeze her juicy little mound. If a woman like that wouldn’t have asked him to swear off men, he’d have gone for her in a second. Heck, he’d have gone for half a dozen just like her and done his best to break Alex’s record for female partners at one time.

He was smiling faintly at the thought while she made flustered hostess noises: mentions of fresh towels in the bathroom… if there was anything they needed… and she was afraid they’d be on their own for breakfast, because, apart from coffee, her pantry really was empty.

"We can drive into town to eat," Bryan assured her. "And, thank you. Everything is wonderful."

She nodded and wet her soft pink lips, her gaze sliding—probably against her will—to the bed Alex was standing by. "Well," she said, "have a good night."

And then it was just him and Alex and the heavy sensual tension Zoe’s presence had left.

"So," said Bryan, his hands shoved into his back jeans pockets, his eyes on the now-closed door. "I’m surprised you two didn’t set the sheets on fire making that bed."

"Shit," said Alex. "I didn’t mean to—I just never got a chance to get over her."

"Hard to forget your first."

"She wasn’t—"

Bryan turned in time to catch the rawness of the longing in Alex’s face. He’d come around to the near side of the bed, the one Zoe had been tucking under.

"She wasn’t my first. She was only fifteen when we were going out. I was eighteen, and my momma raised me to treat girls nice. I didn’t think it would be right to take her, so I… refrained."

The word twisted his mouth, a bitter humor in his expression. Suddenly, Bryan did feel a pang tighten in his chest. "She’s the one you think of when you want a threesome."

Alex sat heavily on the mattress. "I think of her all the time. I’ve never gotten over losing her." His shoulders sagged with weariness, his face too sad to bear.

Bryan swallowed, then said what he knew he had to. "She’s not fifteen now, buddy. You want me to step aside?"

Alex shook his head. "It wouldn’t matter. I want you, too."