Page 38 of Enticement
Clearly, they were at peace, which begged the question of whether Ross had cottoned on to what had been going on in the coal shed.
“What’s the full on pamper in aid of?” Ross asked, pulling her thoughts back from the fit of speculation.
“Nothing.”
He took a good look at her face. “I might get jealous if you keep dressing up for him.” His gaze slid towards Kit then back to her and grinned.
“I’m not…I didn’t!”
“Sure about that?”
“Ross?” God, did he know? Had Kit said something? Was he genuinely okay with it? Did that mean the offer of a threesome was real too? The fact that he slipped his arm around her waist, and under her top, seemed to suggest it was.
Ever so slowly, Ross’s palm moved up her body, until his fingertips knotted under the wire of her bra, and lifted it away from her ribs. Evie hardly dared breathe. The possibility that this was some sort of test kept tumbling around her brain in an endless cycle. Fact was, Evie hated being overheard having sex, let alone being watched. She’d never been the sort to play embarrassing lip hockey, even in a room full of mates. He’d seen her freak the previous time he’d got frisky with her with Kit as an audience.
Unnerved, she bit her lip, while Ross, whose hand now cupped her whole right breast, captured the nipple between his index finger and thumb.
Having abandoned all pretence of playing the video game, Kit’s gaze lay fastened upon her, his coal-dark eyes merrily glinting. Desire churned in her stomach, and shot poisonous arrows down towards her cunt. Could she sit here and let Ross make love to her with Kit watching? What if he actually joined in and touched her? The mere thought of it sent another spear of arousal through her innards. Hell, what if Ross realized how much the notion turned her on and got jealous? What would happen to their relationship then? Were a few moments of fun worth the risk of making that discovery?
They weren’t. She knew it in her heart, and for once her head was actually in agreement.
Uneasily, she tried to squirm free of Ross’s grasp.
He wasn’t having it. He surprised her by straddling her lap and ripping her top up over her head.
Goosebumps peppered Evie’s skin. Kit put down his game controller and turned sideways on the sofa. He slowly wetted his upper lip as his gaze fixed upon her breasts. Fire streamed into Evie’s cheeks. She longed for the audacity to stick her hand in the air and stop this long enough to ask what the hell was going on.
Ross leaned closer, sandwiching their loins together. Like Kit, he bore the faint shadow of stubble around his jaw, only his whiskers were the pale golden brown of malt whisky in a glass. Deep down he had the same sort of burn too. I know what you’ve been up to and you’re a bad, bad, girl, said his eyes. But did he really know?
Evie allowed herself to wallow in their azure depths a moment, pretending Kit didn’t exist, but considering he had the sort of presence that made you sit up and pay attention, she couldn’t maintain the ruse for long.
“Now the bra.” Ross made minimum effort of the catch. He drew the shell-pink silk down her arms and then threw it over the sofa back. Evie clamped her folded arms across her breasts, the large nipples of which were puckered up tight. “Aw, Eve. Don’t go hiding ’em from me. You know how much I like to feast upon them.” In two easy actions, Ross had uncrossed her arms, and sucked one dark pink peak into his mouth.
A groan erupted from her throat.
Ross roughly crushed her other breast within his palm. Then his hands were moulding both breasts and his lips were tight to her ear. “Don’t look at him,” he whispered.
This of course, made her stare directly at Kit, and once trapped, there was no helping herself. There was just something about his make up—the sooty lashes that framed those dark eyes, the curve of his cheekbones, and that overindulgent pout, that held her completely captive.
Oh, God, please make this happen.
She could hear the harsh rasp of Kit’s breathing, an only marginally less steamy purr than the one that currently rumbled in Ross’s throat.
Please, God—she closed her eyes tight—please!
The sofa springs squeaked as Kit shifted his weight, in order to edge a fraction closer to the necking couple. He’d seen the confusion in Evie’s eyes, mixed up with her blatant desire for what she imagined was happening. Kit wasn’t so sure that Ross had the same thing in mind. His lover’s jaw was locked so tight his chin jutted out.
Kit didn’t crowd the pair, but he settled close enough to feel the heat radiating off them and to smell the heady musk of their bodies replace the sweet scent of Evie’s pamper products.
Evie looked terrific post-coalhouse tryst and invigorating shower. Good enough to eat. He wanted to lick her like he would an ice-cream. Her skin had a slight shimmer to it, giving it a golden glow that added a more tactile quality to her soft curves. Her breasts especially, he wanted to touch. Two nipples, two men… But, it still wasn’t happening tonight, not unless he’d completely forgotten how to read Ross. Still, he admired the sight of her. Kit liked that she was shapely and rounded, all soft curves, a real exemplification of pagan sexiness. Androgyny, in either sex, had never appealed to him. He liked opposites, soft femininity in women and hard brawn in men.
Already braced for rejection, he stretched his hand towards Ross’s back. For several blissful seconds he enjoyed the feel of Ross’s muscles working under the skin, as he pressed his palm flat to the bare band of flesh visible below the hem of Ross’s decrepit jumper, then the rejection came. Even expected, it jarred. There were no words, Ross didn’t even turn. He simple lifted Kit’s hand from where it rested and laid it upon the sofa cushion instead.
If a more eloquent way of saying “no” existed, Kit had yet to experience it. He didn’t wait for a verbal reiteration, knowing it would only chafe an already open wound. Ross understood that he wanted to be part of their relationship, not a bleedin’ voyeur. Fuck that! If Ross thought that he was going to sit here like a good boy and watch, he was sadly mistaken.
Hoping to prompt a reaction, Kit scooped Mimmy from her basket and left the room. He sat on the stairs, nursing the squirming kitten and an outrageous hard-on.
How mental was this? Still he held off from charging back in and making demands. He wanted this to work, which called for the softly-softly approach to certain aspects of it, anyway. They’d made it over several hurdles today; best he didn’t risk another quite yet.
