Page 17 of Misadventures of a Curvy Girl
“Say yes to taking what you want. To taking us.”
A little smile crooks her mouth. “You wouldn’t be taking me?”
I nip at her jaw and then at that irresistible little smile. “Dirty girl. You know you’ll be ours once you say it. So say it. Say yes.”
Chapter Seven
Ireland
It feels like Ben is asking me about something bigger than a roll in the hay.
I blink up at him and then over to Caleb, my heart racing along with my mind, trying to sift through Ben’s words.
Be brave, Ireland.
You know you’ll be ours.
Ours. He must mean that within the context of tonight. That if I go to bed with them, they’ll be at my sexual service—not…not what my heart keeps tripping over itself imagining.
That there’s more. That there could be so much more.
That these men not only want to fuck me but love me.
You’re being silly, I scold myself. And you’re overly romanticizing sex. They must do this all the time, and you’re just the latest one.
It makes sense though now, what Mrs. Parry said. Complicated. Feeling the two of them touching me and kissing me, feeling their awareness of each other—it was completely different than kissing Caleb against the barn or watching Ben goad Caleb into coming all over his fist. Once the three of us touched, something new sizzled into existence. Something bright and searing. Something that took more than two people.
Yes, that’s complicated. Different.
But however electric this thing between us is, however magical, I’m also realistic about what it actually means. I barely even know Caleb and Ben, so how could it mean anything more than just fucking? Besides, I’m very used to the idea that girls who look like me don’t get swept into torrid love affairs with hunky country boys. That stuff happens to pretty girls. Skinny girls.
No, this will be sex, plain and simple, no matter what intense words Ben lobs my way.
I still want it.
Why not? Being invited to a threesome with the two handsomest men I’ve ever laid eyes on? Hell yes, I want that.
When I was a girl, I wanted to climb mountains and sail boats and go places no one else had ever been. I wanted adventures! I wanted fun! And right now, adventure and fun personified are staring me in the face, albeit in a way I never could have imagined as a girl.
Be brave, Ireland.
“Yes,” I blurt out, taking Ben’s advice and being brave. Being the woman that girl wanted to grow up to be before people started telling her she wasn’t the right size for adventures and didn’t have the right kind of body for fun. Being who I was before I started being the one to tell myself no—no, I can’t do that; no, people will think you’re desperate or trying too hard or too eager to please.
I’ve spent too long caging myself in, and it feels good to beam up at the men hulking over me with hungry eyes and big hands and emphatically repeat, “Yes.”
It’s easy to keep feeling brave as we dart across the grass, the rain coming down in cool silver streaks around us, the wind gusting past in huge buffets that nearly knock us off our feet.
Caleb grabs my hand, his fingers so warm and strong around my own, and then he’s pulling me impatiently to the back door as Ben follows behind us. When I look back at Ben through the rain, the wind whips his T-shirt around the tight muscles of his stomach and chest, lifting the hem high enough to reveal glimpses of taut, olive-colored abs and a line of dark hair that disappears into his jeans.
Unf.
We stumble inside in a rain-wet and eager mess, and then I’m pulled up the stairs by Caleb while Ben stalks behind us, his eyes glittering with dark promises I hope to God he keeps.
Caleb leads me into the first room off the upstairs landing, and I know immediately it’s his. There’s something so basic about it, so honest, with the antique lamp on a wooden end table by the big, sturdy bed and a framed aerial picture of the farm on the opposite wall. A Carhartt jacket hangs off the doorknob of the small closet, and a paperback mystery sits facedown on the top of his dresser, the corners curling up slightly, like it got wet at some point. Like he took it with him one day out in the fields and got caught in the rain, or maybe he left it in the truck with the windows down.
For some reason, this little display of carelessness seals it for me. I’ve definitely got it bad for Caleb Carpenter. He spins me around so I’m trapped in his arms with my back to his chest, and I see Ben kick the bedroom door shut and prowl toward us.
I think it’s only a matter of moments before I have it just as bad for Ben too.
