Gemini (7 page)

Her mouth was sweet—her lips lush and soft, the taste of her heady as brandy. She let him take what he wanted, opening to him, accepting his tongue. She didn’t give back the way he might have wanted, but she wasn’t entirely passive, either. She drew on him a little, like he was where she wanted him to be.

Having her backed against the wall, he could get a little feel of her breasts against his chest—enough that it was obvious her nipples had formed hard points. He brought their clasped hands between them, rubbing his rigid cock against her fingers and knuckling up against her clit. She’d lifted her free hand to his arm, sliding along his bicep and then grasping hold of the sleeve of his Dub Squad T-shirt. A good grasp, like she needed grounding.

The hell of it was, he still couldn’t have her.

With Superman-ly effort, he pulled himself back. He lifted just enough that their mouths separated and their gazes could meet.

“I’ve been wanting you,” he said. His voice was gravelly, his breath unsteady. “Every minute that we’ve worked together. Sat together. Run. Every minute. Do you get that?”

Her breathing was just as tight as his. She nodded. “Yes.”

“But you’re not ready for this. Are you?”

She didn’t answer right off, stalling long enough that he moved back in for more. But she turned her head, avoiding his mouth. “No,” she panted. “I’m not. I’m not.”

He nodded and pushed himself away, arms straight now, hands pressed to the wall at either side of her head. He felt cold without the heat of their bodies pushed together. She did, too, apparently.

“When you are, I’m going to still be wanting you. I’m going to be waiting. Get it?”

“Yes.”

“Good night, Gemini.”

“Good night.”

* * * *

Gemini learned the three men played in a basketball league that had games on Saturday mornings. Quinn had skipped the previous Saturday, when she’d just arrived at the bar and he’d apparently thought she was too fragile to be left alone. He’d likely been correct about that.

He went this week. It had taken the two of them a while to get back to their relative comfort with each other after that blistering kiss—and all—out on the deck. She’d tiptoed around him that next morning, but by evening time, as they worked together behind the bar, they were too busy to remember if things were awkward. She stayed at her station until closing time, avoiding the whole issue of whether she’d sit out on the deck and whether he’d join her. They closed up together, walked upstairs, and said good night at her door as they always did. She was pretty sure he’d have foregone the usual gentle kiss there. She thought she could have turned away and closed the door, and he’d have accepted that.

But it really wasn’t what she wanted. Apparently, she liked playing with fire. Because she stood there, looking up at him, waiting, until he leaned in and kissed her. It wasn’t like what had happened out on the deck, but it wasn’t nothing, either.

Quinn kissed her goodbye when he left for the game, too—just a peck this time, like a married couple who actually liked each other might do. In some ways, that was the most touching of the exchanges they’d had. He said the guys usually worked out together after the game and then went for a late lunch. She could join them for that, he’d said.

They’d both been aware that they were talking about her first real time alone since she’d come to Colorado. When he’d told her his plans and invited her for some of them, he was tentative enough that she knew he would easily stay with her if she wanted.

She decided it was time to pull up her big girl panties, so she sent him on his way, with both of them pretending that she’d done a convincing job of it. After poking around the very quiet apartment for a few minutes, she resolved that she would take a run on her own.

It was extremely depressing, knowing that she’d sunk so low that walking out of the apartment alone for the first time should be any kind of a challenge. She used the delaying tactic of stopping by the bar on the way out. But it was also a reinforcing tactic.

Mach One opened at eleven-thirty every day except Sundays. Quinn employed Emma Scott, the wife of one of Clay’s partners, as a part-time bartender. She worked around her husband’s hours and, since they had small children, she was glad to move out of the late shifts that Gemini had taken. She was happy to do the lunch shift and now opened the bar three days a week.

Once Gemini, dressed for running, had stopped to chat with Emma, she’d feel compelled by pride to walk through the door into the world. Alone.

The urge to delay was strong, though, and so she offered Emma a hand. Emma wasn’t as naively innocent as she looked, however. They talked while Gemini rolled silverware up in cloth napkins, but it wasn’t long before Emma nodded to the door, instructing Gemini to go enjoy her morning off.

If a run was the best she could do, Emma had said with a smile.

It was a start.

Quinn had offered her the Outback he kept parked in the alley under the deck. But she’d declined—the Air Force Academy was near enough and a nice spot for a run, tucked up against the mountains as it was and with that crazy, cool chapel.

The runs she’d taken with Quinn had felt therapeutic. He was in spectacular shape and paced alongside her practically without breaking a sweat. She’d pushed herself, woefully out of condition, frustrated yet again that she had allowed Bryce so much control over her. He’d liked squash and body-sculpting work-outs at a chichi fitness center where deals were made and one was seen by the right people. To please him, she’d given up running.

Now, she was getting adjusted to the altitude, had her legs and her wind back just a bit, and she ran purely for the pleasure of it. She did a couple circuits at pace, then added in some parkour moves. She’d learned parkour from her best friend in high school, a guy named Max who’d gone on to graduate school in physics. It was one of the friendships she’d let go during her years with Bryce.

The campus was a great spot for it, and she wasn’t alone in enjoying a sweet summer day this way. She eventually blended in with a group of cadets and other civilians at the obstacle training course.

By the time she got back to the bar, she’d been gone for three hours. She’d cooled down at the Academy, spending a long time with stretches and gentle, meditative breathing. Feeling better—calm, centered,
happy
—than she had in years, she ran up the back stairs to Quinn’s apartment.

And burst in on a trifecta of exquisite maleness.

They were all three there, unloading grocery bags in the kitchen while they worked on Phantom IPAs in brown bottles. To a man, they paused what they were doing to look up as she came through the door.

“Oh,” she said, coming to a stop. As three gazes skimmed heat over her, she began to feel decidedly underdressed. Her shorts were short and her sleeveless top hung loosely over her sports bra. The very same outfit had felt all the way different when Quinn had been running alongside her. Though even then, there were times he fell behind that she’d had to wonder just what view he was taking in.

“I didn’t think you’d be back yet.” She said that to Quinn. She hadn’t been expecting the other two at all.

He pulled his hand out of a reusable shopping bag and walked to her. “Hi,” he said, putting his hands at her shoulders and giving her a kiss. “Yeah, we decided on lunch here. Lobsters, corn, and salt potatoes. It’s a summer tradition.”

Quinn stepped back, though he kept his gaze on her, as Jace came beside him. “Hi, babe,” he said, and he leaned in and kissed her, too.

They both watched as Clay came next. He clutched his fingers into her hair and gave her a look. “Hey, Gemini.”

He waited for her to answer.

“Hi, Clay.”

Then he kissed her, more than Jace or Quinn had made of it. He used his other hand on her, touching at her hip, then following the edge of her shorts around until his hand gripped her, right at the margin of ass and upper thigh. He massaged there a little, making it obvious that he used his middle finger.

She broke the kiss and pushed back, meeting his gaze in objection.

Quinn spoke, distracting her. “You have time to shower if you want. We’re just getting things started.”

Feeling a bit agitated, Gemini looked over her shoulder at him. “No.”

They all shrugged as Jace joined the conversation. “Your choice. We like you fine as is.”

She shot him a look. “I mean, no, you can’t all kiss me like that. Right in front of each other, all three of you, like that’s…
normal
.” She wanted to go on, but she felt a babble coming on. She took a breath. “You can’t.”

She took another step back as Clay took one forward. “We decided we could. We talked about it after the game today.”

Shaking her head, she looked at Jace and then Quinn. They both gave her a nod.

“Well, you don’t get to decide that.”

Quinn lifted his hands like he was trying to gentle something wild. “You decide who kisses you, Gem. Of course that’s true. You say no to us—any of us, all of us—then that’s it. None of us thinks otherwise.”

Clay muttered under his breath, but he was close enough that she knew he was reserving the right to take a shot at changing her mind, should the need arise. And had confidence he would succeed.

“Then what are you talking about? What did you decide—while I wasn’t there? What decision did you make for me?”

They were all quiet for a minute. Apparently, Quinn was the spokesman. “Not for you. For us, really.”

She waited, arms crossed under her breasts, all but tapping her foot.

“We’re all interested. We’re all going to make a play for you. It’s going to be up to you to shoot us down.”

“Does it occur to you that
I
might not be interested”—she used finger quotes—“right now?”

“Sure. It’s your decision entirely.” Quinn said that, but she also heard more muttering from Clay. It had to do with how she should stop kissing them back, if she felt that way.

She turned from Quinn to raise a brow at Clay.

“We’re not girls,” he said bluntly. “We have dicks. You can’t expect us not to try. If you don’t want my tongue in your mouth, if you don’t want my hands on you, you’d better make it damn clear.”

Gemini squelched a wild urge to pull her hair out. “How can I even…”

“You can take all the time you need,” Jace put in. He stepped forward, his quiet intensity clear. “Kiss us, or don’t. Come to our beds, or don’t. One of us, or all of us.” He nodded to his buddies. “If one of these guys gets you in his bed, it’s not going to be enough to keep me from trying. We couldn’t find a way to decide among ourselves, so it’s going to be up to you.”

Gemini almost spoke but stopped herself. She looked at Jace, then at Clay, then Quinn.

She should just say it, straight out. She should say she didn’t want them to kiss her, to touch her. Not one of them. Not all of them. She should…

Hell
.

“I’m taking a shower.”

Clay smirked,
the ass
. “I think that was our suggestion from the get-go.”

He laughed, not the least offended, apparently, by the way she bent her hand behind her back and lifted her middle finger to him as she walked away.

* * * *

The three men liked watching her eat lobster. It took them a while into the excellent meal to start noticing, and it took a bit longer after that for Gemini to realize they had. They all used their fingers to dip the succulent morsels into drawn butter and, after a while, there was total silence every time she took a piece dripping with butter to her mouth. A while after that, the strands of lobster meat in front of her were replenished as the guys sneaked pieces over from their own plates.

She finally caught Jace at it and pushed his loaded fork back to his own plate. With a laugh, she forced them to stop.

She had fun. They were sweet and bright and kept her entertained with stories of their past escapades. They gave each other a hard time frequently, but it was with humor. They were clearly close, bonded friends. They liked to laugh and, even more, it appeared, to make her laugh.

It was sweet as could be to be included with them, a part of their close-knit group. To have them tease her as they did each other, though more gently. And to be the focus of attention, of hot gazes coming from every direction.

Gemini loved it. Like a soothing balm, like a warm, comforting blanket, she savored it, wallowed in it. Her spirit eased. Her wounded heart, her shattered ego mended a little.

Maybe it was wrong, indulging herself in their gentle affection. Surely it was.

While she’d showered, she’d tried hard to sternly damp the hot, lustful stirring of her body—of her soul—that had risen with their revelation.

They all wanted her. Each of them, and enough that none of them was willing to give over to another.

It should be a concern to her—the risk these three men were taking with their friendship. The hot turn-on it was to contemplate the fact that they all desired her.

It should feel wrong, not very, very—right.

She should have dug deep. She should have found her discipline, her good sense. But their regard for her—sexual and otherwise—was just too seductive. It had been so long since a man had looked at her with approval, with desire, with anything other than callous, derisory possession.

It was beyond her to turn down what they offered. She didn’t know how much she could accept. She didn’t know if she had it in her to be with one of them,
sleep
with one of them, to say nothing of experimenting with two or all three of them. Oddly, the fact that she’d already once taken each of them into her body had nothing to do what they now proposed.

Her future was unknown.

But this, she could give herself. This lovely moment of basking in their attention. So she laughed with them, accepted the restrained heat of their gazes, and assented to their gentle touches.