Bedding the Bachelors Box Set (Books 1-3) (2 page)

“Passion,” Lucy fired back.

Of course. Passion. Lucy's favorite word. “And by passion, you mean…”

“Pure, animalistic chemistry. The kind that makes you want to rip each other's clothes off and do it against a tree if you have to. The kind of passion you don't feel for Jamie.”

The kind of passion she'd never felt for any man, Melina thought. Any man except Rhys, that is. But thinking of Rhys only made her sad, and being sad while she ate Ben & Jerry's was just wrong. “Ahh,” Melina said softly, trying not to sound too bitter. “You mean the kind of mutual passion that leads to love and lifelong happiness and is about as real as unicorns or flying dragons.”

“Rarity isn't the same as fantasy,” Lucy exclaimed. She stood, her face all flushed and her hands gesturing wildly. “That's what women have been taught nowadays. That passion and true love and friendship, all rolled into one, is impossible. So they settle.”

“Lucy does have a point,” Grace admitted. “Passion must be a basic female need. Otherwise, why would such a huge percentage of women be craving it?”

“Maybe,” Melina said, trying to be the voice of reason, “because 98.9 percent of guys aren't the throw-a-woman-on-the-ground type.” Her eyes automatically shifted to the pictures of Max and Rhys on her bookshelves. She had a feeling they were the exception, but they didn't exactly represent the average male. “Women want passion, but if it's not in a man's true nature to give it to her, then what's the point in wishing for it? Compatibility. Respect. Even love. That's what matters.”

“So then what's with all these?” Lucy pointed to several books on Melina's coffee table.
The Joy of Sex
rested prominently on top of the stack.

Melina shrugged prosaically, pretty sure Lucy already knew the answer. “Guys like sex. Jamie's a guy. Thus, part of getting and keeping Jamie is giving him sex.”

And not just any kind of sex, Melina thought. Mind-blowing, can’t-live-without-it, I'll-never-look-at-another-woman-for-fear-you-won't-give-it-to-me-again sex. The kind of sex she apparently didn't know how to provide, but was going to master this time even if it meant renting every porno she could find on the Internet.

“You like sex, too,” Grace pointed out. “Do you factor into this equation at all?”

“Of course, I do. I have no doubt that Jamie can give me what I want.”

Lucy harrumphed and narrowed her eyes at her. “Well, I'm glad your wants are still in the picture. At least Brian didn't totally squash your sexual confidence when he hooked up with his little co-ed.”

No, Melina thought, he’d squashed her confidence long before then. Every time he’d hinted she needed to lose a few pounds. And he hadn’t been the only one of her boyfriends prone to doing that. But insecurities aside, she knew she was healthy and reasonably attractive. That just wasn’t enough for some men. The key was finding the man who’d love her for who she was.

And who she could
learn
to be in bed.

“True passion isn't about technique, Melina,” Lucy insisted. “You can't manufacture it by reading about it.”

Melina nodded. “I get that. But I've never been overly passionate, anyway. After Brian, I was sure I was through with men for good. But then Jamie approached me. He's smart and kind and funny. I think I could be happy with him.” She heard the hesitation in her voice but charged on. “I just need a little extra insurance that I can make him happy, too.”

Snorting, Lucy shook her head. “If you're talking about making him happy in bed, there's no such thing as insurance. You'll just have to take the plunge, so to speak.”

“Not necessarily,” Grace drawled. “As my mama always said, practice makes perfect, right?”

Lucy's brows furrowed, while Melina gave an internal groan. She recognized the challenge behind that drawl. For a woman who was so contained, Grace could throw down a challenge like nobody's business. Worse yet, she'd be the first to take one up, which made Lucy and Melina hard-pressed to turn one down themselves.

Melina turned to Grace, whose impish smile was unmistakable. “And just who are you suggesting I practice with?” she asked.

In sync, all of their gazes moved to the same shelf of pictures. Melina's stomach clenched even as she zoomed in on the most recent addition. Max and Rhys both looked impossibly handsome in black tuxedos. She'd taken it at the IBM Magic Convention in Vegas last year, right after they'd beat out Chris Angel and Lance Burton for Best Stage Magician of the Year. Of course, in the picture each had an arm around his date: Max, a tall, leggy redhead, and Rhys, a stacked brunette whose boobs were almost spilling out of her plunging neckline.

Melina dropped her gaze to her ice cream container. Unless they had begun manufacturing implants, she'd bet that brunette had never heard of Ben and Jerry. Suddenly feeling as if every bite of ice cream had gone straight to her hips and thighs, she set the carton aside.

“Rhys?” she asked doubtfully. “I said I need insurance I can satisfy Jamie, and you want me to drive head-on into a brick wall. Rhys is in a whole different league than Jamie.”

“Exactly,” Grace replied. “You want him, yet you've let fear hold you back. You're turning twenty-eight in a week, Melina. Why not overcome two fears at the same time? Prove to yourself you can satisfy a man like Rhys, and you'll necessarily prove you can satisfy someone like Jamie, as well.”

“You're wicked,” Lucy breathed, sounding utterly impressed.

Grace bowed in acknowledgment.

Melina shook her head and held up her hands. “Just hold on. You're assuming I can satisfy Rhys. How likely is that? I couldn't even keep Brian satisfied in bed, and he'd only been with two other women. With all the women Rhys has had…” Melina swallowed hard, the very thought of all those women causing an ache of mammoth proportions in her chest.

“All the more reason to ask him. Think what a fabulous teacher he'd be,” Grace urged.

But Melina was already shaking her head again. Defiantly, she picked up her ice cream container and took a fortifying bite. “No way,” she mumbled around the spoon. “Rhys doesn't even like me anymore. We haven't talked for months.”

Obviously, he was too preoccupied with the showgirl-type women he was often photographed with to have time for an old friend. Of course, he'd proved to her long ago that nailing the hottest chick was more important than friendship. Her mistake had been in thinking it was a one-time thing. “Forget it. I'm not asking Rhys for anything.”

Her tone brooked no argument, or so she thought. After a few seconds, Lucy shot her a sideways glance. “Okay, so if not Rhys, what about Max?”

Melina choked, coughed, and wheezed, “Max?”

“Of course,” Grace said, nodding and smiling in delight. “He has even more experience than Rhys. And she's completely comfortable with him.”

“Not that comfortable,” Melina interjected, only to be ignored.

“She trusts him,” Lucy agreed. “He's a hottie. They've already kissed once—”

“That was almost twelve years ago and he felt sorry for me—”

“And he's flying in for her birthday. He's perfect.”

“Perfect,” Grace echoed. “Talk about sexual empowerment.”

Melina's gaze bounced back and forth between her friends as her mind frantically tried to come up with a reason why sleeping with Max was a bad idea.

She couldn't come up with one.

Still, it would be humiliating to cave so soon. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “And exactly what sexual empowerment issue would you two be addressing during my crash course in satisfying a man?” She looked over at Grace, who'd started to braid a strip of her long pale hair. “Grace?”

Grace stopped braiding, bit her lip, then shrugged, her mouth twisting into a sardonic smile. “No point in denying my greatest fear, now is there? My birthday's two weeks after yours, so I'll try to find the man I fear doesn't exist: the man who can get me off. I'm sure it will just lead to another weekend of frustration, but as long as I can keep my vibrator handy, I'm willing to suffer for the cause.”

Although she felt herself softening, Melina didn't reach out to her friend. This challenge had been Grace's idea. Maybe she needed it more than Melina did. She hadn't dated in almost a year, convinced that if she couldn't even attain pleasure with a man, there was no point in putting up with one. Lucy, on the other hand, put so much stock on pleasure that she often put up with a man's failings longer than she should. Melina turned to her friend, keeping her face impassive despite the scowl on Lucy's face. Lucy's birthday wasn't for a few months, but it was a big one, the big 3-0.

“I should get a pass on this one,” Lucy said. “I'm fearless when it comes to sex, you know that. I've tried everything there is to try. There's no reason—”

“You fear intimacy,” Grace said gently. “You only date jerks, guys who are never going to commit to you—”

“Just because I happen to love brooding, creative men with an edge does not mean I fear intimacy,” Lucy protested.

“It's one weekend, Lucy. One weekend with a nice guy you normally wouldn't give a second look,” Melina clarified.

“A nice guy?” Lucy looked outraged. “Oh, sure. For your birthday weekend, you get to ask a hot friend to show you everything he knows in bed. Grace gets to have someone pleasure her for two days straight or die trying. What do I get? A nice guy who probably doesn't know a cock-ring from a cockatoo.” She held up a hand to forestall Melina's response. “But fine. If you two can do it, then so can I.”

Lucy paused and smiled sweetly, which, from her, was the equivalent of a big, flashing “danger” sign. “I call the stakes. Anyone who puts their plan in motion and sticks with it the entire birthday weekend, regardless of the results, gets a full day of pampering at Silk Spa. Anyone who chickens out has to get up in front of my Women's Studies 101 class and explain why. In excruciating detail. And answer questions afterwards.”

Lucy stuck out her hand, palm down. After a brief hesitation, Grace placed her hand gently on top of it. Melina's hands curled into fists. Her gaze landed on the magazine that Lucy had been reading, the one with the sex survey she'd read through earlier. She'd committed one paragraph to memory: “Of those people who are very satisfied with their sex lives, ninety percent are also very satisfied with their marriage or committed relationship overall. The less sexually satisfied people reported being, the less satisfied they were with their marriage or partnership.”

It sounded so simple, she thought. Keep a man satisfied and he'd be less likely to stray, right? Continually blow a man's mind in bed, and he'd be yours for life. In that way, men weren't unlike the bugs Melina studied: give them what they wanted and they'd give back to you.

With Max as her teacher, she'd learn to keep a man sexually satisfied. And she was an excellent student. She'd just never given that particular skill her total focus. Once she did, how hard could it be?

She shakily laid her hand on Grace's.

She'd never have Rhys. Maybe being with Max was the next best thing. One thing was for sure, though. Given the parameters that Lucy had set, none of them was backing out of this challenge.

***

“So, when do you leave for Sacramento?” Rhys called to Max. He tried to sound nonchalant, focusing his attention on lifting Laura’s supple, feminine leg and placing the delicate ankle in the leather restraint. He refused to look at Max, instead tugging the leather to make sure the restraint held firm. Then he did the same thing with Laura’s other leg, ending with a playful growl that caused her to giggle.

Satisfied that she was now fully restrained, he continued to play his part, absently dragging his fingertips up the inside of her gently curved calf and then her soft, pale thigh, continuing the journey over a lush hip, nipped waist, generous breast and upraised arm until he grasped the single restraint that bound her two fragile wrists together. Max still hadn't answered.

Standing directly in front of Laura, his feet braced apart, his chest just brushing her magnificent breasts, he turned to look at his brother. “Max?”

His brother wasn't paying any attention to him. Instead, he was staring at the floor, his brows flexed. Rhys sighed, released the leather restraint that was suspended from the contraption on a chain, and smiled at Laura. “Give me a second?”

She chewed her gum and winked. “I'm not going anywhere.”

Rhys marveled at the huskiness of her voice. Although she was dressed in a modest leotard and tights rather than the skimpy sequined outfit she wore during a performance, everything from her voice to her polished toes was a walking wet dream. It wasn't necessarily an act, either. Even when she was lecturing her teenage son about doing his homework, she still managed to sound like a sex phone operator. Striding toward Max, who leaned against the stage-left wall, Rhys rolled his shoulders and tried to suppress his impatience.

It figured that the moment their dream was within reach, Max would get into one of his brooding moods. Normally, Rhys could tolerate and compensate for Max's moods, just like Max did for him, but with the recent back-to-back rehearsals combined with the time he was spending working the kinks out of the Dalton Brothers’ newest stage trick—the most spectacular one to date—his tolerance was spent. Next week's show had to go off without a hitch. Add to this stress the fact that Melina's birthday was coming up? Exhausted didn't even begin to describe how he was feeling.