Rule of Three (28 page)

“Ummm.” Jack set a bag on the bed. “We’re both men and we have dicks.”

“Apparently there’s more.”

Jack frowned. “Impossible.”

Greg held his hand out in a sweeping gesture. “See, even he agrees.”

“Neither of you have to see it.” Olivia climbed on the bed and folded her legs beneath her. “I do.”

The storm must have her more out of sorts than he realized. Shaking his head, Greg picked up the sweatpants he’d laid over the bed and slipped them on. He didn’t bother with underwear. He just had to have the necessities to keep him dry and warm. He was about to do the same with his T-shirt when he spotted some of the items Jack was pulling from his own bag. “You came prepared.”

“I was a Boy Scout.”

“Of course you were.”

“Our motto was ‘Be Prepared’. This is me being prepared. Two eight-hour, battery-run lanterns.” Jack promptly turned them on, bathing the room in much needed light. Olivia let out a pleased sound of joy as she took them from him and set them up, one on each nightstand. “I also have two propane lanterns. Candles. Matches. Lighters. Water, granola and energy bras, and the
pièce de résistance
— two decks of cards and a board game.”

“Impressive,” Greg said as he pulled on his T-shirt. “A bit of overkill, but impressive just the same.”

Jack left the bag open and set it on the floor. “And what did you bring to the little party?”

“The only thing that mattered. Myself.” Greg leaned over and blew out the candle. When he was done he faced Jack again. “I came to here to be with Olivia, not set up a bunker for the second coming.”

Jack smirked. “Those who can, do, and those who can’t, show up in a suit in the rain.”

“You know,” Olivia’s sharp tone brought both men’s attention to her and from the displeased look on her face she wasn’t happy with either of them, “if the two of you keep this up, it’s just going to make the night longer.” The sudden sharp crack of thunder shook the rafters of the old house, and Olivia flinched and shuddered. “I can’t handle the two of you
and
the storm.”

“Liv, darling.” Jack dropped his attitude and joined her on the bed, rubbing her arms. “It’s going to be long no matter what.”

“Then why not play nice?” She sat back against the headboard and crossed her arms over her breasts, deftly putting herself out of Jack’s reach.

“This is nice.”

Finally, something Greg could agree with. “It could be worse.” He sat down next to her on her free side. “We could be wrestling.”

Olivia’s eyes lit up with interest. “Would there be oil involved?”

“No,” Greg immediately replied. She looked a little too fascinated for his peace of mind.

“In that case then, don’t you dare,” she said with a little pout. “You know, if I had any sense I would make you both go home.”

“Or one of us,” Greg eyed Jack warily.

“Or both of you,” she reiterated, but her voice lacked any real heat.

“Don’t. We’ll behave,” Jack insisted. “Besides, you know if you made us leave I would just worry about you being here by yourself. You don’t want to make me worry, do you?”

“No, but…”

Greg hated seeing her so upset. “But what, love?”

“I don’t want to spend the night worrying about whether you guys are going to go at it.”

After her oil comment, Greg felt the need for a little clarification. “Go at…it?”

“I didn’t mean it
that
way.” Even with the dim light of the lanterns, Greg could tell she was blushing.

“Good thing,” Jack said. “For a moment there I was worried I was going to have to do something drastic.”

“Drastic.” Was that the best word the other man could come up with to describe the “hell no” situation she’d hinted at. “How about downright unthinkable?”

“I don’t know.” Jack eyed him lazily. “If you lose the stubble I bet you’d be pretty enough.”

“I happen to like the stubble.” Olivia smiled. “It’s very dashing.”

“And I’m not pretty.” The matching looks of delight from Jack and Olivia caused him to frown. “What?”

“It’s probably the accent.”

“And the big blue eyes,” Jack added with a grin. “They are kind of dreamy.”

For some reason, Greg felt more undressed than he had when he was actually standing unclothed before them. “This conversation has wandered into the absurd.”

“Pretty is a compliment,” Olivia said.

“No, it isn’t.” Especially coming from another man.

Jacked rolled his eyes. “Come on, Big Ben. I was just teasing you. Don’t be the stereotype.”

“What stereotype would that be?”

“You know, English fuddy-duddy. Chill out. Relax, have a bit of fun.” Jack slipped his arm around Olivia’s shoulder and pulled her to him. “You never know, we all might be entertained tonight after all.”

Makin’ a list, and rocking it…twice.

The Naughty List

© 2011 Jodi Redford

Perpetual good girl Lacey McGuire has two Christmas wish lists. One suitable for public consumption…and a private one that’s too hot to handle. Right at the top: wild, wicked fantasies about her best buddies and business partners Ryan Hollister and Bram Colton.

Besides the fact they’re both poster boys for Hunks ’R’ Us, they’ve been there for her through thick, thin and the heartbreak of a cheating fiancé. So what if her boys will never know they star in her sexiest daydreams? In her fantasy world, her heart will never get trampled again.

Ry and Bram are pretty sure Lacey never meant to email a list of some of her raunchiest wants. Particularly the one that tightens their shorts—she wants a threesome. With them. Although they’ve loved her for years, they made a pact to keep Lacey off limits in order to protect their friendship. Now all bets are off. And the quest to give her all she wants—and more—is
on
.

Warning: This book contains a wickedly hot M/F/M ménage that will heat up the holidays. Friends steaming things up in a hot tub. Bondage and blindfolds. Sexy shenanigans at a Christmas tree lot. And maybe even a glimpse of Santa…in a Speedo.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
The Naughty List:

Bending, Bram slid his mouth over hers. The contrast of his warm lips and breath against her colder flesh was startling. His heat managed to kindle her body in more ways than one. By the time he broke the kiss, her inner temperature had skyrocketed by at least one hundred degrees. They pulled apart and she peeked sideways. Ry was staring at them, his eyes dark and intense. There was no mistaking the obvious bulge tenting the fly of his jeans.

Wow, did watching her and Bram kissing turn him on? The notion was both odd and arousing. Ry had such a strong possessive streak. She could only guess that he tended to be just as territorial when it came to his women.

Mulling back over that last thought, she realized where her misassumption lay. She wasn’t Ry’s woman. Why would he care who kissed her? Furthermore, of course he’d be aroused witnessing the kiss between her and Bram. For Pete’s sake, the two men intended to do a hell of a lot more than that with her together.

The reminder brought her jittery nerves back to the forefront. If she were to be completely honest with herself, what terrified her most was the possibility of being a huge disappointment to Ry and Bram. Smothering her sigh, she knelt and unzipped her boots before tugging them off. She couldn’t help being grateful for the radiant heating Bram had installed with his parquet floors. Her toes curling in appreciation of the cozy warmth, she straightened and hugged her chest.

“How about a glass of wine?” Bram offered, heading toward the kitchen. “I just opened a bottle.”

A fifth of tequila was more in order, but she kept the thought to herself. She didn’t want them to assume she needed to get snockered in order to go through with this. Even though she probably did.

Ry’s palm rubbed her tensed back, and she looked up at him. With his free arm, he gestured toward Bram, indicating that they should follow him.

Good idea. Standing all night in the entry clearly wouldn’t get them anywhere fast. Feeling like a doofus, she allowed Ry to lead her into the kitchen. While Bram grabbed a pair of crystal stemware from the rack and a cold beer from the fridge for Ry, she scooted onto one of the leather-capped barstools fronting the center island. She’d sat on this very seat numerous times, but she’d never once experienced the level of stomach-churning anxiety that she did now.

Where was the sexy Lacey from her fantasies? Figures the damn wench would abandon her in her time of need.

Bram settled her wineglass in front of her, and she picked it up to take a fortifying sip. A warm, mellow glow spread through her as the Shiraz settled in her belly. The aroma of garlic and red chilies carried from a pan sizzling on the stove. She licked her lips. “Is that Kevin’s Penne Arrabiata?”

“Yep. I’m just reheating it a bit. It’ll be ready in a sec.”

Both Bram and Ry knew the dish was her absolute favorite. It was just one of the countless insider scoops they had on her. Knowing they’d deliberately chosen her most beloved comfort food settled her nerves and her stomach. These two men practically knew her better than she knew herself. They’d been there for her through some of the toughest times in her life. If there was anyone she trusted to embark on a sexual discovery with, it was them.

This would work. She’d make damn sure of it. Gulping another sip of wine, she silently armored her determination. Her fingers no longer displaying the trembling she’d suffered moments ago, she pushed the glass closer to the middle of the island and turned toward Ry. He smiled at her in the adorable way that always made his eyes crinkle at the corners. Leaning forward, she crushed her mouth over his, earning his harsh intake of breath. His surprise didn’t last long though. Groaning, he tangled a hand in her hair, slanting her head as his tongue delved past her lips.

He kissed her like he was giving a demonstration of how he intended to make love to her—hot, deep and consuming. His other hand moved to her breast and caressed it through her clothing. A frustrated growl rumbled from him, and he reached for the hem of her sweater and tugged it upward. He broke their kiss and guided her arms over her head. She realized what he intended to do. Rather than protest, she allowed him to remove her sweater and toss it on the stool behind him.

His gaze raked her torso, lingering on the plumped cleavage peeking above the silk cups of her pink demi bra. Without saying a word, he unhooked the front closure. The weight of her breasts pushed the bra open slightly. Running his fingers beneath the straps, Ry eased them down her shoulders, forcing the garment to separate from her flesh in agonizingly slow increments. His Adam’s apple bobbed, a sure sign that his lazy, tormenting movements affected him just as much as her. The edges of the silk caught on her nipples, the teasing rasp springing a moan past her lips.

Finally the fabric released her from its taunting hold, completely baring her to Ry’s heated gaze. “Christ, you’re fucking beautiful.”

A soft scuff sounded to the left, and she turned her head to see Bram standing beside her. She’d been so ensnared in Ry’s focus she hadn’t heard Bram approach until then. Like Ry, he was staring at her with a dark, ravenous hunger. “He’s right, Lace. Your breasts are gorgeous. Absolutely perfect.”

She’d always worried they were too big, especially in the sense that they’d sag and not exactly be perky the older she got. But judging from Bram’s and Ry’s enamored expressions, saggy boobs were the last concern on their minds. As if to verify her assumption, Ry cupped her breast, her flesh overflowing his palm. His thumb flicked over her puckered nipple, and she gasped, a pleasurable shiver coursing along her spine. His pupils dilated, making his eyes look dark and sexy as sin. Massaging her breast, he leaned down and traced her areola with the tip of his tongue before kissing the pebbled nub. Her breath hitched and her head fell back, her eyes sliding shut. They flew open a second later when Bram’s mouth closed around her other nipple.

They were both licking and sucking her breasts.
Oh God.
She’d fantasized about this very thing thousands of times yet nothing could compare to the mind-blowing reality of it. The pleasure was so intense, she worried she might pass out from it. Her fingers sifted through Ry’s and Bram’s hair, holding them close. Although they were equally devoted to worshipping her breasts, their style and technique came with differences. Intriguing, exciting differences that only fueled her arousal to a fever pitch. Bram’s focus was strictly concentrated on her nipple, alternating between teasing flicks of his tongue and long, luscious suckling. Ry, on the other hand, occasionally licked and teased her entire breast, even using his teeth and the scruff of his days-old beard to amp up his sensual onslaught.

Just as she thought she’d go crazy from the pleasurable overload they were inflicting on her, a shrill buzzing filled the air. She jolted at the unexpected noise.

Bram released her and groaned. “Sorry. I forgot I set the timer.” His expression apologetic, he abandoned her to go take care of things on the stove.

Ry’s mouth reluctantly left her breast and slid along the slope of her neck before brushing over her lips. “Do you have any idea how delicious you are?”

“Even better than Kevin’s Penne Arrabiata?” she couldn’t help asking with a grin.

“A million times tastier.” He snagged her bottom lip between his teeth and gave it a good nibble before letting her go and glancing down at her bared breasts with unabashed appreciation. “Look at you. Damn, you should be topless all the time.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’d go over great at work.” Leaning past him, she attempted to grab her sweater, but Ry used his foot to kick the stool out of her reach. She frowned. “I need that.”

“Why?”

She shoved her arms over her chest. “I am
not
going to eat with my boobs hanging out like this, Ryan Hollister.”

A chuckle came from Bram. “Ooh, she called you by your full name. You’re in trouble now, bud.”

Ry didn’t look the least bit worried. “I’m only trying to save her from slopping on her sweater. You’d think she’d appreciate my ingenuity.”