One-Two Punch (27 page)

Enthralled by the two masculine bodies locked together in a desperate, almost violent embrace, Beth watched, the water pounding unheeded on her skin. Wetting her lips with her tongue, she slid one hand between her legs to brush her clit, teasing the already excited nub of flesh.

What had started as a playful jab at Beth after she’d kicked them out of the shower turned into an uncontrollable conflagration of need. It wasn’t just the buildup of tension since Ky had moved in with them, but the months of frustrated longing from two years before, from working and fighting together, weeks upon weeks of furtive glances, of hiding their feelings with rough, masculine bravado, burying concern and lust and obsessive thoughts so deeply that no one in their unit suspected anything except friendship. All of this pressed-back desire now exploded into flames. They ground their mouths, their bellies, their cocks together, clashing teeth and tongues in a raw kiss, Ky’s wet jeans the only barrier between them.

Just watching was enough to send Beth over the edge of orgasm with only a few strokes of her hand. She grabbed the side of the shower door to steady her shaky knees, uncaring that water streamed onto the floor. The moment between the two men seemed intensely private but she still yearned to join in, to be a part of the wild mating in front of her.

Ky’s fingers dug deep furrows in Harry’s round, tight buttocks. The contrast between the dark skin of Ky’s hands and the lighter tone of Harry’s ass shortened her breath. She felt her nipples, already erect, tighten to aching points. Harry was fighting the wet denim, shoving the stubborn fabric down Ky’s thighs. Unable to stay back any longer, Beth turned off the shower and stepped out.

She was mesmerized by the movement of Harry’s back muscles, the flex and hollow under his skin. Beth explored the contours with her palms and felt Harry shiver in reaction. She loved how she could make such a powerful man tremble under her touch.

Growling, Harry jerked away despite Ky’s protesting groan and grasping hands, abruptly turning Beth around so that she faced the sink. The quick movement made her gasp. Bending over at the waist, she grasped the edge of the counter, the cool tiles slippery beneath her wet hands. She caught a glimpse of their reflection in the mirror—

the three of them, naked and wild eyed—and couldn’t stop staring.

It was Ky who stepped behind her, bending his knees and plowing into her in one merciless stroke, his face tight with concentration. Beth felt like the breath had been knocked out of her at his entry, as if his cock had taken all the available space in her body, with no room left for air. Her eyes were locked on the reflection of Ky’s face, on the fierce intent in the tight line of his mouth. She watched as he began to thrust, amazed at how watching the movement at the same time she was feeling his cock plunge, retreat and plunge again intensified the wrenching pleasure.

When Harry entered Ky, pressing inexorably into the other man’s ass, Beth felt it in her own body, as if she was the one caught by the slow slide of his cock. She watched Ky climax in the mirror, saw his expression melt into ravaged bliss, felt the guttural groan that vibrated through her. Viewing Ky’s ecstasy was enough to topple her into her own orgasm. Her body convulsed around Ky’s cock, helpless to do anything except absorb the impact of Harry’s thrusts through the man behind her.

As her legs quavered beneath her, threatening to drop her onto the bathroom floor, Beth’s drifting thoughts pondered how strange it was that having another person between them just made her that much closer to Harry. How strange and how wonderful, she mused blissfully, letting Ky’s powerful arms support her as she melted back against him.

Hands on her hips, Beth gave both men an exasperated look. “And they say that women hog the bathroom.”

Harry looked over his shoulder at her and grinned through a faceful of shaving cream. “Says the woman who just used the mirror for
hours
.”

“It was ten minutes—fifteen tops—and you guys hardly have any hair to worry about! Or makeup. In fact, what exactly are you doing in here?”

“Okay, out.” Ky unceremoniously lifted her and placed her outside the bathroom before slamming the door in her face.

“Fine,” she yelled through the closed door. “I didn’t want to hang out with you guys anyway!” She huffed at the unrepentant laughter coming from inside the bathroom.

Might as well get dressed, she figured, heading for the bedroom. As she stood in front of the open closet, Beth realized that she was smiling. Despite her fake pout at being banished from guy time in the bathroom, happiness burbled inside her.
The three
 
of us are good together
, she thought, her eyes dreamy as she stared, sightless, at the line of clothes.

Shaking her head but unable to lose her dopey grin, Beth rifled through her clothes, excited by the prospect of the evening ahead. It had been a long time since she’d had a night out—it was too easy to fall into the safe, easy, domestic routine of takeout and sex with Harry and now Ky. She realized that she was staring at the clothes again, her smile positively fatuous.

“Focus,” Beth told herself firmly. She had serious business to attend to—figuring out what to wear. After the kidnapping, she’d only returned to her apartment once.

Both Harry
and
Ky had insisted on coming with her, even though she’d just picked up the remainder of her things—those that hadn’t already found their way from her place into Harry’s closet.

She wasn’t sure why she even kept her apartment. Maybe because six weeks seemed like an awfully short lead-up for moving in with a man—or
men
, she corrected herself. Sure it was quick, but it just felt
right
. She definitely did not want to stay alone, sleep alone. Beth shivered.

Even sandwiched between Harry and Ky in the big bed, she needed a light on at night. She hated the darkness now. The guys didn’t seem to mind. In fact, although they would never admit it, the small glow of the nightlight that broke the darkness was probably a comfort to them too.

Beth made a face. Especially since all three of them were having nightmares now.

By the time Harry and Ky had finished their mysterious male preparations in the bathroom and joined her, most of her clothes were strewn around the room.

“Did the closet throw up?” Ky asked, glancing around.

Ignoring the sarcastic question, Beth did a twirl, quite pleased with her final choice—a short, flippy, black and white skirt topped by a dark red tank with skinny, criss-crossing straps. The heels on her delicate sandals were high enough to guarantee that she would be falling over at least once during the night. She ended her turn with her back toward them, giving her audience of two a flirty look over her shoulder. “So, what do you think?”

“You’ll do,” Ky said at his most casually dismissive but Beth just pressed back a smile. She had seen a flare in his eyes when he had gotten his first glimpse of her blonde curls cascading over the bare triangles of skin exposed by the skinny straps of her top.

“Yeah, you will,” Harry growled, catching her around the waist and nuzzling the crook of her neck, making her giggle. “Don’t know if we can let you out of the house like that.”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Puh-lease,” she scoffed. “If it were up to you, I wouldn’t leave the house ever, even if I had a nun’s habit on.”

“There’s an idea,” suggested Ky, his eyes smoldering again as he watched them.

“I wonder where we could get one,” Harry pondered. “Do you think you’d be struck down by lightning or something if you wore it and weren’t a nun?”

“After the things I do with the two of you? Probably.” Beth turned to give him a quick peck on the chin and then slipped out of reach as he tried to pull her in for a real kiss. She knew if she let him, Harry could have her stripped of makeup—and clothes, for that matter—in ten seconds flat. She had been promised a night out and she was going to get it, even if it used every drop of willpower she possessed not to be lured back to bed with her two smoking-hot men.

“Get dressed, slowpokes—I’m going to put on some get-my-party-on music.” On her way out of the bedroom, she let her hand trail across Ky’s arm. His eyes held a promise of retribution in the near future. Beth shivered in lovely anticipation.

Humming to herself, she plugged her MP3 player into the speakers and turned the volume up, glad that there were no close neighbors to be annoyed. She scrolled through the songs until she saw one that made her grin.

“Perfect,” she murmured. “Nothing like Aqua to get things started.”

“What the hell are you playing?” Ky walked into the living room, scowling at the bouncy music pounding from the speakers. Beth could only stare. In scrubby sweats and his worn Army t-shirt, Ky was beautiful, but dressed to go out, he was…breathtaking. She stared at him, realizing that his khakis and black short-sleeved shirt would just be ho-hum on any other man but the magic was in the way Ky’s sleeves stretched over his upper arms and how the color emphasized the sooty smudge of his eyelashes. It took a few moments of staring and drooling before his question registered.

“A little ’90s Euro-trash pop.” She tilted her head, thinking. “Actually, I’m not sure if they’re European but that has a better ring to it than U.S.-trash pop, don’t you think?”

“Are you kidding?” he asked, appalled. “What else do you have on that thing?”

“Hey!” she protested as he wrestled the MP3 player away from her. “This is my song!”

Ky glanced at the screen and grinned. “‘Barbie Girl’? Yeah, that is perfect.” He scrolled through the songs, ignoring her attempts to grab the player. “Here’s
my
song.”

When Robbie Williams’ “Dickhead” began playing, Beth laughed. “That’s fabulous.”

Ky just grinned, still checking out her music. “Ludacris, Aerosmith, Buju Banton and Yo-Yo Ma?”

“So I’m eclectic. What music do you listen to, hater?”

“Eclectic? More like a schizophrenic crackhead,” he mocked her, dodging her punch to his arm. “My music is like a normal person’s,” he told her with enormous condescension. “Okay, this one’s okay,” he allowed, selecting a song.

“Finally,” Beth sighed, rolling her eyes. Although she pretended to be annoyed, seeing Ky acting like his normal, sarcastic—and, yes, dickhead-like—self warmed her heart.

At the first beats of the hip-hop jam, she grinned. “I
love
this one,” she cried and it was Ky’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Well, I hope you like it—it was on your MP3 player, brain trust,” he scoffed. Beth just ignored him and grabbed his hand.

“You can’t
not
dance to this song,” she told him, pulling Ky away from the speakers. He surprised her by following willingly and then shocked her even more by actually dancing.

“Look at you!” she said, impressed, but he shrugged away the compliment. They danced goofily, unself-consciously throwing in cheesy spins. Beth was pretty sure that they were do-si-doing at one point. They were both breathless with laughter when the song ended and they both turned to see Harry in the doorway, watching them.

Beth swallowed hard.
God, these two clean up well
, she thought, staring at Harry. His blue shirt highlighted his eyes, shading them to the exact color of a postcard sky.

“Holy moly, he’s hot,” she murmured, not really realizing that she had said it out loud.

“Yeah,” Ky agreed, also staring.

“Want to jump him?” she asked.

“Fuck yeah.”

They both pounced and Harry, laughing at their antics and flushed with pleasure, caught them against him. “All right, who just grabbed my ass?” he accused, not sounding too put out about it.

“Me,” Ky and Beth said in stereo, making Harry laugh again.

“Great—it’s bad enough trying to keep the hoards away from Beth and now I have to beat them away from you too?” He caught Ky in a playful headlock. “How many minutes do you think we’ll be at the club before I get kicked out for punching someone who looked at one of you?”

“You?” Beth demanded. “Women are going to be swarming all over the pair of you and everyone knows that they’re more vicious. I’m going to get home tonight with all my hair pulled out and a spike heel imbedded in my forehead.”

“We could just stay home and go to bed,” Ky suggested hopefully.

“No.” Beth shook her head. “We are going out. These shoes are not happy staying in.” She held up a foot, displaying a strappy sandal. “They need the nightlife. They need the music.”

“God knows they don’t get any decent music just hanging out with you,” Ky muttered, grinning when Beth smacked his arm.

“Okay then.” Harry braced himself. “Let’s take those shoes on the town and see who punches someone first.”

“My money’s on Beth,” Ky said.

Harry nodded. “Mine too.”

Looking at her two beautiful men, Beth gave a fatalistic sigh. “Probably.”

They were riding the light rail train to LoDo, Denver’s lower downtown area, when Ky dug a small box out of his pocket and tossed it into Beth’s lap.

“Here,” he grunted as she looked up in surprise, fumbling the box but managing not to drop it.

“What’s this?” she asked, glancing from the tiny box to Ky’s averted face. She looked at Harry in question.

“Open it,” he suggested, grinning in a way that told Beth he knew perfectly well what was inside.

“It’s not one of those snakes that pop out at you, is it?” she asked suspiciously. “I’ve always hated things like that. Like Jack-in-the-Boxes—how creepy are they? Freakin’

clowns jumping out at you with those scary grins painted on their faces—how is that a toy? More like a way to terrify some poor little kid—”

“Are you going to open it or not?” Ky was glaring at her.

“Just making sure nothing is going to shoot out at me,” she defended herself, holding back a grin.

“Fine, give it back,” he snapped, reaching for the box. Beth clutched it in her fist and held it out of reach.

“Okay, okay!” she laughed. “I’ll open it!” Lifting the lid, her giggles stopped immediately. Nestled inside was a tiny platinum pair of boxing gloves. She touched the pendant gently with one finger and then carefully lifted the necklace from its box.