Winter Fire: A Red Hot Winter Story (7 page)

He scraped a hand through his hair. Jealousy tore a red streak through his stomach. “I hate that you slept with him. I don’t hate you.”

Color raced to her cheeks. “H-he spoke about you. We both did.”

“When?”

“While we, uh, you know…”

Huh? “I thought you didn’t know he knew me,” Jackson said, perplexed.

“I didn’t.” She frowned. “It’s complicated. When he told me he was a journo living in Brissie, I instantly thought of you. I mentioned you were coming up here. Garreth picked up on something in my voice.” She blushed and turned around. “Later, when I was in his room, he kind of, well…” Her voice trailed off.

Jackson gritted his teeth. “He kind of what?”

“He, er,” She cleared her throat. “He suggested I fantasize about you while making love to him.”

Jackson absorbed her words with shock. Gazza had included him in his and Rachel’s bedroom play. Even while Jackson had been in Brisbane, Gazza had brought him in on the action.

Rachel dropped her head into her hands. “God, I thought he’d been so insightful, picking up on feelings I’d tried to hide.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t perceptive at all. He knew the whole story.”

“Don’t judge him too harshly,” Jackson said, striving to keep his tone neutral. “He had his reasons.”

“He should have told me.”

“You’re right. He should have. And I suspect he would have. But I arrived early.”

She turned to stare at him. “Y-you’re defending him?”

He shrugged. “I understand him.”

“Well, I don’t. Maybe you could explain.”

Uh uh. Garreth had dug this hole. He’d have to fill it in. “You need to ask him.”

Rachel looked at him for a long time before sighing heavily. “I thought being with him would take the edge off. Would head off the attraction I feel for you.”

Jackson rubbed a hand over his face. Fuck, this was going all wrong. He’d been so resolved about seeing Rach this weekend. So determined not to let their past interfere with his and Jenna’s birthday celebrations. He was going to treat her like an old friend. Like Jenna’s friend. Nothing more.

He was an adult. He could do it. He could hide the longing and the lust that had lived with him since the first time Jenna had brought her new friend home. The lust that had sizzled and burned between them for twelve years, and the longing that drove him insane with frustration. They left him with blue balls every fucking time he saw her.

Instead, he’d been flung head first into a situation that demanded he sit up and take notice. Demanded he see Rachel in a sexual role rather than a platonic one. Demanded he see her as someone’s lover. Gazza’s lover. And Gazza wanted to share her. Wanted to bring him in on their loving.

Fuck it all, he’d insinuated the thought in Jackson’s brain, and now Jackson couldn’t get rid of it. Hard as he tried, every time he closed his eyes he saw himself taking Rachel’s pussy as Gazza took her ass. And every time he saw it, he had an overwhelming urge to rip Garreth apart limb by limb.

“Did it take the edge off?” His voice was far too hoarse when he asked the question.

Rachel took a very long time to answer. “Nothing’s taken the off the edge. Not in twelve long years.”

Not for him either. Standing before Rachel was just as torturous as it had always been. She was just as impossible to resist. But resist he would, for he simply had no choice. Neither of them did.

He set his shoulders in determination. “You know what?”

“What?”

“We’re going about this all wrong.” Focusing on sex and lust and threesomes was not going to give either of them any peace this weekend. They needed to turn their attention to the other side of their relationship. To their friendship. To the mutual trust, the respect and the genuine affection each held for the other. They needed to focus on the non-physical aspect of their connection.

Rachel lifted an eyebrow in question.

“I haven’t seen you in over two years. Can we do what any two normal people would do after all that time, and just say hello?”

She smiled then. A small, tremulous smile, but a smile nevertheless. “Hello, Jackson.”

“Hey, Rach. It’s good to see you again.” He hadn’t meant to hold open his arms, hadn’t meant to invite her to step into them, but somehow his arms were stretched wide on either side of his body, and she was staring at him, indecision written all over her exquisite face.

“Just one hug,” he said. “One plain old hug between two friends. That’s all.”

Her smile vanished for a second, and then it returned, a full-blown I’m-real-happy-to-see-you-again smile, and she stepped into his embrace.

She fit perfectly against his body. She always had. Her soft curves molded into his firmer muscle. His shoulder was just the right height to cradle her head. It was almost as if they’d been made to match. As if they were each one part of a two-piece puzzle.

Even as he buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo—lemon and citrus—she inhaled deeply, as though breathing him in as well.

“Christ,” he said with a soft groan. “I’ve missed you.”

She clung to him, held tight, like she couldn’t bear to let him go. “I’ve missed you too. So much.”

“I miss our talks.”

She nodded, her hair tickling his chin. “So many times I picked up the phone to call you. To tell you about my day, about something little that happened. But I couldn’t do it.”

“Ah, baby, I understand.” He stroked his hand over her hair, cherishing the silky softness. “You don’t know how many stories I worked on that I wanted to run by you. Wanted to get your take on before I wrote them up.” Rachel had always been his sounding board. Before he’d sit down and put his article to paper, he’d discuss it with her, look at it from every angle, get her thoughts.

Since she’d been in Sydney, his articles had lacked something vital. Her insight.

“I have dozens of photos I’ve taken of my designs. Hundreds. I wanted to email them to you, find out your opinion.” She never had.

Jackson had always been blown away by Rachel’s talent, by her ability to turn lumps of metal into fine jewellery. To choose the perfect stone to set into whatever piece she worked on. She was an artist, every design a masterpiece.

“You know what I missed the most though?” she asked softly.

“What?”

“Just hanging out. Just being with you.”

His arms tightened around her. “Ditto, Rach,” he whispered. “Ditto.”

And then, because his cock was hardening at an alarming rate, and Rachel was pressed against it, her hips hugging his growing erection, he released her—although the effort nearly killed him. “Shit, baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

She gave him a sad smile. “No worries, I understand.”

Oh yeah. She did. If anyone understood, it was her. “I better go. Before I can’t pull away again.” He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Rachel didn’t answer. She nodded, her eyes filled with every bit of longing and sorrow he felt.

Damn it. She couldn’t avoid him any longer. Now that Jenna had gone to the bathroom, she no longer had a shield. Jackson was chatting to some buddies across the table and Garreth was headed in her direction, looking pretty darned determined. He also looked as sexy as the devil.

Damned if her pussy didn’t twitch just watching his approach, didn’t remind her of what Jackson had interrupted when he’d knocked on Garreth’s door.

Rachel had been aroused this morning. More than ready for some hot and heavy action with Garreth. She was aroused still—despite the trauma of discovering he and Jackson were housemates—and seeing him did nothing to calm her lust. Between the shocking—and unsatisfactory—conclusion to her and Garreth’s morning activities, and seeing Jackson again, Rachel was wound tight as a coil, ready to go off at any second. She was aroused, she was horny and she wanted to be fucked.

She also never wanted to see Garreth again.

Tricky.

He took the seat Jenna had just vacated. “I came to your room earlier, to return your clothes. You weren’t there.”

The muscles in her shoulders knotted. “I was out. If it’s okay with you, I’ll come around in the morning and get them?”

“Of course it’s okay.” He frowned. “I’m sorry. For not telling you from the start that I share a house with Jack.”

She furrowed her brow. “Yeah, about that… Why didn’t you?”

He met her gaze with his beautiful green one. “If I had, would you have come back to my room with me?”

“No.” She’d never have knowingly slept with Jackson’s housemate.

He shrugged, as though to say
point made
.

“You knew I wouldn’t sleep with you, so you kept it secret?”

“I swear, I’d planned on telling you. I was just waiting for the right moment.”

Shit, she wanted to believe the worst about him, but couldn’t. Somehow she knew he was telling the truth. Not that the knowledge lessened her anger any. “So when would the right moment have been?” She lowered her voice, making dead certain no one besides Garreth could hear her. “When I had my lips wrapped around your dick?”

A muscle ticked below his eye. “Actually, yes.”

His response had her jolting backwards in shock. She gaped at him.

“We can’t talk here.” Garreth held out his hand. “Come and sit with me at the bar. There’s no one around. We can speak more freely.”

She eyed his hand warily.

He dropped it and stood. “You don’t have to touch me. We do have to talk. Come with me?”

Against her better judgment, she nodded and followed him to the bar.

“You were saying?” she prompted once they were both seated facing each other.

“He was with us, Rachel. He was there the whole time, in my room. In my bed. You can’t deny it.”

She shook her head. “I’m not. You brought him into bed with us.”

His eyes turned dark. “You liked that, didn’t you? Pretending he was in your pussy while I was in your ass.”

She took in a quick mouthful of air. Yes, she’d liked it. Too much. The very memory made her nipples bead and her skin prickle.

“I liked it too.” His voice was a whisper, even though no one was around. “I wanted you to know I knew him. But I wanted you to be fully aroused when I told you. I suspected that if I told you in the heat of passion, you’d be more open to hearing the truth.”

She gave a cynical laugh. “So you figured you’d wait ’til I blew you to share the truth?”

“It’s not that simple. Or that callous. I’d planned out a…more romantic, er, sexier disclosure.”

She raised a dubious eyebrow.

“You don’t believe me?”

She shook her head.

“Know what I would have done first?” he asked.

“No.” Oh, Lord. Did she want to know? The way his voice had dropped, the way he now spoke in those bedroom tones wasn’t going to do her libido any good.

“I would have asked you to close your eyes.”

Keep your back up and your shoulders straight. Don’t be seduced by him again.
“Why?”

“Because that’s how I’d have wanted you. Naked, on your knees, your mouth around my cock and your eyes closed.”

She couldn’t help it. She imagined herself in exactly that position, kneeling before him and working over his shaft.

He leaned in close. “Once I knew you were fully into the task at hand—when I could hear your moans and smell your desire—I would have asked you to imagine it was Jackson’s cock in your mouth. Not mine.”

The breath caught in her throat. She had no doubt whatsoever he would have done exactly that.

“And then I would have described him to you, bit by bit. I would have told you that the man before you was not Canadian, he was Australian. A blond Australian, with blue eyes. And a body that you adored. Thinner than mine, but still well-muscled. That he was staring at you, desire burning in his blue eyes.” He nodded. “I would have painted his picture in your mind so you had no doubt who you were tasting. Licking. And it wouldn’t have been me.”

Sweet Lord, on her knees, sucking Garreth and pretending he was Jackson. Shivers tingled down her arms. “You would have turned yourself into Jackson.” The image was arousing, it drove her wild, but questions still nipped at her. She shook her head, trying to understand him, understand how his mind worked. “Why?”

“Because sweet thing, you love him. And he loves you. Two people who love each other should be together. You and Jackson should be together.”

She stared at him, mystified. “And you and I sleeping together, while you get me to think you’re Jackson, could achieve that…how?”

Garreth smiled then. A small, sexy smile. “There are things about Jack and I you don’t know. Things bigger than the fact that we’re roommates.”

A bad feeling stirred in her stomach. She looked at Garreth aghast. “Oh, God. Please, don’t say you’re bedmates as well.”

He shook his head. “We’re not lovers. But we’ve shared a bed more than once. Making love to the same women—at the same time.”

Her jaw dropped. Thoughts twirled in a crazy jumble in her mind. Jackson and Garreth shared women? Made love to the same woman at the same time? “So what? You honestly did intend for me to sleep with both of you—at the same time?” Christ, he’d told her that. He’d said he wanted to make love to her at the same time as Jackson.

Garreth took her hand and squeezed it. “It’s a lot to take in all at once. I know. I never intended for it to come out this way. I wanted to introduce you to the idea slowly. One step at a time.”

“That’s why you suggested I think of Jackson last night? And told me you wanted Jackson in bed with us this morning?”

He nodded. His eyelids drooped sensually. “I loved watching how talk about him got you all hot and bothered. If a mere fantasy could arouse you—and me—so much, the reality of having Jackson in bed with us could be a million times better.”

The truth dawned on her then, like a light being switched on in her head. “You set it all up. This morning, with me in your room and Jackson knocking on your door. You set the whole thing up.” Rachel stared at him, utterly shocked. “You knew Jackson was already at the hotel, and you knew he’d come looking for you.”

Garreth held his gaze steady, not once looking away from her. “He said he’d come to my room at twelve.”