Outsider (28 page)

“Fuck.”
Ethan’s breathy curse caused Reagan and Trey to exchange devious grins.

She
moved slowly, keeping them deep within, her strokes short and grinding. They
felt so good inside her, filling her to her limit, that she didn’t have to move
much to find pleasure. She was almost to her peak when Ethan’s spent cock slipped
free. Trey didn’t miss a beat. He wrapped both arms around her and turned her
onto her back, thrusting into her with the deep, penetrating rhythm that always
existed as an undercurrent between them. As his face contorted with pleasure,
he opened his sultry green eyes and stared into hers. That was all she needed
to send her over the edge. Their gazes remained locked as they found release
together. As the waves of pleasure ripped through her body, a warmth
simultaneously spread through her chest. God, she loved this man. Loved
both
of the men in her bed. And maybe someday she’d be strong enough not to care who
knew it.

In
the afterglow of loving, Trey did his best to snuggle against her and Ethan at
the same time. “You two should move in here with me,” he said. “It will keep
the paparazzi away and you have to admit, it’s a lot nicer than your place.”

Reagan
tried to think of a reason why they shouldn’t, but her higher order brain
processes weren’t functioning. Never make decisions on an empty stomach or while
in bed with two men after three orgasms or . . . how did
that idiom go again?

After
a moment, Ethan asked, “Why did we originally decide to stay at our place?”

Reagan
tried to laugh but apparently that part of her wasn’t working either. She might
as well forget trying to speak. Sleep seemed to be the only action she was
capable of as her eyelids opened and closed dreamily, eventually settling on
closed.

“So
it’s settled,” Trey said. “You’re moving in with me.”

“I’m
for it,” Ethan said. “Reagan?”

She
answered with a snore.

*****

The
next morning Reagan and Ethan made a run to their old apartment for clothes and
a few personal items they couldn’t live without while Trey headed for the
funeral. Only a few close friends of Sed’s family would attend the actual
funeral, and though Reagan felt a measure of relief that she could be out of
the public eye for a few more hours, she felt guilty that she wouldn’t be there
to support Trey while he offered his support to Sed. Trey had seemed fine with
the situation. He’d been humming under his breath while Ethan stood behind him
and properly fixed his tie for him. He’d kissed them both goodbye several times
and had left with a smile on his face. A smile that she realized he hadn’t
shared with them for days.

“I
think Trey’s happy that we’re moving in with him,” Reagan said. “He was like
his old self this morning.”

“Could
be that,” Ethan said, grinning at her from the driver’s seat. “Or maybe it was
all the amazing sex we had last night.”

She
laughed. “I guess that would put a smile on anyone’s face.”

“I
think he’s happy because we got to be completely alone for the first time since
we went on tour together.”

Reagan
shook her head. “But he doesn’t want to isolate our relationship from the rest
of the world like we do.”

Ethan
didn’t respond as he maneuvered through traffic, his eyes frequently checking
the rearview mirror.

“Is
someone following us?” Reagan asked, the bubbly feeling of love and happiness
in her belly instantly twisting into a queasy knot.

“I’m
not sure, but whatever. I’m done pretending they’ll go away if I wish for it
hard enough.”

“Maybe
they’ll disappear if I wish for it even harder then,” Reagan muttered under her
breath.

“I
do think Trey would be content isolating our relationship from the rest of the
world,” Ethan commented on her earlier statement. “I just think he’s come to
terms with the idea that doing so is impossible and so we might as well get it
all out in the open so the leeches on our backs will fall off in a search of newer,
juicier blood.”

Reagan’s
knotted stomach twisted even tighter. She might be able to keep their secret if
she was just holding her ground against Trey, but if both of her men were
against her decision to be tight-lipped, she’d eventually start blabbing. She
knew she would.

“Are
you starting to agree with him?”

“Not
in the slightest.” Ethan turned into the parking lot of their apartment complex
and cursed when several cars turned in after them. “I don’t think our
relationship would survive it.”

Reagan
feared the same. She also feared that her career wouldn’t survive it, nor would
her already troubled familial ties. And though she’d be willing to give up both
her career and her family if she were guaranteed eternal happiness with Trey
and Ethan, she was too afraid that she’d lose everything instead. Then where would
she be?

“We
have to get through this,” Reagan said, “and come out on the other side still
holding on to Trey.”

“I’m
not letting him go.”

Reagan
smiled and nodded. “Me neither. Let’s pack our bags and wait for him at home.”

A
loud knock on her window made her jump.

“Trey
Mills was seen heading to Phillip Lionheart’s funeral alone,” a reporter yelled
at her through the glass. “Is this really the best time to slip away for some
alone time with your bodyguard?”

Is
that what this looked like to them? Fuck! Reagan’s lips had gone numb, not that
she knew what to say to make this situation right, but she couldn’t take any
more. She knew she shouldn’t care what these strangers thought of her, but she
did care. They thought she was the type of woman who would desert her boyfriend—while
he was at a funeral—to fuck some other guy. Tears flooded her eyes, and she
buried her face in her hands, unsuccessfully stifling a sob.

Ethan’s
growl of rage alerted her to impending doom just before he tore the door open
and jumped out of the car.

“Look,
you stupid motherfuckers,” Ethan yelled. “She wasn’t
invited
to the
funeral, that’s why she didn’t go. And we did not come here to have sex. We
came to gather her clothes so she could move in with Trey.”

The
paparazzi surrounded him like a pack of hungry wolves spotting a defenseless
fawn who’d been separated from his mother. This was going to be bad if Reagan
didn’t do something, but her hands were trembling so hard, she couldn’t get her
door to open no matter how many times she pulled at the handle.

“I’m
her bodyguard, nothing more. Yes, you will see me around her a lot. Yes, I do
have to touch her on occasion. I’m trying to protect her from people like you.
So back the
fuck
off so I can do my job!”

Ethan
shoved through the crowd and tried to open her door. It wouldn’t open for him
either. Through the window, he pointed at the engaged lock, and she laughed at
her stupidity. When she was finally free of the stifling car, Ethan placed a
steadying hand on her elbow and escorted her—rather coolly—toward the stairs.

“Is
it true?” someone called after them. “Are you really moving in with Trey?”

“It’s
true,” she called, walking faster. The staircase—
sanctuary
—was just
ahead.

“And
this Ethan guy isn’t anything more to you than a bodyguard?” another voice
called.

She
pretended she hadn’t heard the question. Ethan was much more to her than a
bodyguard. He was her best friend. Her lover. Her heart. Her soul. Her
everything. And Trey was all of those things to her as well.

“Tell
them I mean nothing to you,” Ethan said in her ear.

She
blinked back the fresh flood of tears that came to her eyes. “I can’t,” she
whispered.

“It’s
okay,” he assured her.

“He’s
just
my bodyguard. Leave us alone,” she yelled before racing up the
stairs.

Once
they were closed inside the apartment, she collapsed against Ethan’s chest and
broke down, repeating, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” over and over again.

“Shh,
babe,” Ethan whispered to her. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”

But
wouldn’t her life be a whole lot easier if she had?

Normally
Trey would have been glad to be back on the road with his band. He typically
loved the excitement of the entire glorious affair, adored the camaraderie
between himself and his bandmates, and couldn’t wait to meet eclectic people in
exciting places—even if he no longer seduced those people. But even though they
were in New York City—one of his favorite stops on any tour—he just wasn’t
feeling the love, and the reason was no mystery to him.

The
funeral had been a somber occasion and he was glad that the road gave Sed
concerts, events, and fans to distract him from his grief. But Reagan and Ethan
were different when they were on tour. At home they’d both been happy and fun
and horny and open, the wonderful people he adored. Here the two of them were
forlorn and guarded and withdrawn and cranky, which made him glum. Trey didn’t
do glum. He admitted to pouting on occasion, but he wasn’t sure how much longer
he could stand feeling this low.

“You
look miserable,” Brian said as he sat beside Trey on the tour bus sofa. He’d talked
with Trey a million times before on this same sofa, but there was an impossible
to ignore difference this time. Brian held Malcolm in his arms and was feeding
his tiny son from a bottle. “Girl trouble? Boy trouble?”

“Both,”
Trey admitted. He slicked back Malcolm’s soft hair, and his heart went all
mushy. “Let me hold him.” He needed someone he could publicly shower with
affection, and his wide-eyed godson was easy to love.

Brian
handed over the squirmy bundle, but he didn’t rise from the sofa. Trey was
uncomfortably aware of how close Brian was sitting next to him. His scent, the
cadence of his breaths, his mere presence—all familiar and comforting and
unsettling. Would Trey ever shake that feeling of connection with Brian? It was
so fucking confusing. He wasn’t in love with the guy anymore, but he’d always
love him. Why?

“So
what’s the trouble?” Brian asked, watching Malcolm eat his lunch. When the
baby’s gaze landed on his doting father, he smiled around the nipple in his
mouth.

“They’re
different on tour,” Trey said, making a face at Malcolm to compete for one of
those smiles. Curious brown eyes shifted to Trey, and he was gifted with an
adorable giggle followed by more sucking.

“Aren’t
we all?” Brian said wearily.

Trey
lifted his gaze to Brian’s and got lost in a pair of intense brown eyes so
similar to his son’s that Trey’s heart ached. “Uh, no,” Trey said.

Brian
chuckled. “Well, maybe not you. But some of us get the jitters before a
performance and hide behind our talent. Some hide behind a huge ego, others
hide behind jokes, and then there are those who hide period.”

Trey
knew Brian was talking about the members of his band, but he never saw them
that way.

“Everyone
is hiding from something,” Brian added.

Were
they really? “Why?”

“To
keep from getting hurt.”

Trey
shrugged. “You get used to it.”

“You’re
lying to yourself,” Brian said.

Maybe
he was, but if a guy spent his entire life hiding from heartache, he couldn’t possibly
live a full life, a rich life, or the self-indulgent life Trey craved. He
wanted it all exactly the way he desired.

“I’m
being selfish again, aren’t I?” He knew it was a flaw of his, but knowing it
didn’t change his behavior. If he knew what he wanted, he went after it, persistently
and without ever giving up. Lord, Brian must know that about him more than
anyone on the planet. There was still a part of him that fucking wanted Brian,
and Trey hated that he couldn’t get completely over that unfulfilled desire. Did
he crave Brian because he was the one thing Trey had wanted but never attained?
Or was he just stupid?

Brian
rested a hand on Trey’s knee. “You’re the most selfless selfish person I’ve
ever met.”

Or
was Trey struggling to get over the guy because Brian always felt comfortable
touching him? A hand on the knee, leaning against him when they played guitar.
sitting close enough to him that their arms brushed on occasion. Straight guys
just didn’t do that around each other. They erected a solid imaginary box
around themselves and were only willing to let another dude inside said box in
rare instances, typically those punctuated with some measure of physical
violence to offset the touchy-feely stuff. Hell, even his brother was more
likely to slug him than hug him. Trey had puzzled over this oddity about Brian
for years. It was an enigma that Trey would probably never unravel. Not that
he’d ever minded Brian touching him. It was just goddamned confusing.

Someone
climbed the bus steps and paused at the end of the corridor. “There are my
three favorite men in the world,” Myrna said.

Trey
couldn’t help but smile. He did adore the woman, even if she had officially
pulled Brian out of his reach. If Trey hadn’t thought she was the perfect woman
for Brian, he probably wouldn’t have ever stepped aside. He’d probably still be
trying to turn the guy’s head and would have missed out on having Reagan and
Ethan in his life. Maybe stuff really did happen for a reason.

“Am
I still your number one?” Trey asked Myrna with a teasing grin.

Both
guys stared at the legs accentuated by a pair of black stilettos as she stepped
over Brian’s outstretched legs and sat on Trey’s opposite side. She ruffled his
hair as if he were her favorite pet and said, “Of course you’re number one,
Trey, but this little guy is a very close second.” She leaned in and kissed
Malcolm on the forehead, and he lit up like the Rockefeller Center Christmas
tree as he stared adoringly at his mother.

“Hey,”
Brian protested. “What about me?”

“Coming
in third isn’t so bad,” she teased.

“That’s
not what you said last night,” Brian countered. “I distinctly remember you
referring to me as God several dozen times.”

“I
did?” Myrna asked, her pretty hazel eyes wide and innocent in her lovely face.
“I must have been completely delirious.”

“On
orgasms.”

The
sweetness left her expression as she examined Brian’s face. “I came to tell
Trey that Reagan is looking for him, but perhaps I should ask him to babysit
instead.”

“Reagan’s
looking for me?” Trey asked, suddenly uncomfortable sitting between the couple
with all the fuck-me vibes flowing between them. Huh. Maybe he
was
getting over Brian, if being the meat in a Sinclair sandwich made him
uncomfortable rather than sexually excited.

“Yeah,
Logan just got back, and he brought that Toni chick with him,” Myrna said. “I was
like what the fuck? Wasn’t she the one who started the tabloid fiasco in the
first place?”

“It’s
complicated,” Trey said, handing Malcolm to Myrna. “I’d better go see what
Reagan needs.”

Myrna
showered Malcolm with kisses and as soon as Trey stood, Brian slid in close to
his little family to blow raspberries on Malcolm’s bare feet. Was there
anything cuter than a happy, giggling baby? Too bad Trey would never have one
of his own.

He
left the three of them behind as he exited Sinners’ tour bus and hurried to the
Exodus End bus parked just behind it. He was surprised to see Ethan standing
outside the bus. He was wearing his bright orange SECURITY shirt, which looked
great with his bronze skin and dark hair. His expression was unreadable behind
his dark sunglasses, but his body was all sorts of tense. Trey wouldn’t mind
taking the time to release the tension from those distracting, bulging muscles.
However, he doubted Ethan would appreciate him jumping his bones just then.

“Myrna
said Reagan was looking for me,” Trey said.

Terse
nod.

“Is
she on the bus?”

Another
terse nod.

Trey
sucked at the small hoop that pierced the corner of his mouth. So that was how
they were going to play this?

“I
was wondering—does Brian put up a bro box when he’s around you?” Trey asked.

Ethan’s
biceps bulged as his already tense frame tightened further. “A bro box? What’s
that?”

“You
know. That area of personal space around a straight guy that’s uncomfortable to
cross. And if you do cross it, you’re liable to get punched.”

Ethan
slid one hand across his jaw, drawing Trey’s attention to the dense, dark
stubble that he hadn’t shaved that morning. They’d been in a rush to catch a
flight back to New York for that night’s concert and had been distracted by
activities much more pleasurable than shaving.

“Yeah,”
Ethan said. “He does put up a bro box—or whatever you want to call it—when he’s
around me.”

“Oh,”
Trey said, worrying the hell out of the hoop at the corner of his mouth. He
knew Ethan was staring at the action of his tongue from behind his mysterious
dark sunglasses. “I thought maybe he didn’t have a bro box with anyone. I guess
I’m the only guy he lets into his space. Do you think that’s odd?”

“Are
you fucking kidding me?” Ethan grumbled.

“Yeah.”
Trey grinned. “Just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“That
wasn’t nice.”

“And
it’s not nice to ignore me, E,” Trey said.

“It’s
impossible to ignore you,” Ethan said. “I know if I talk to you, I’ll end up
looking at you, which will make me fantasize about you and lead to embarrassing
bulges in these unforgiving slacks. Is that what you want?”

“I
mostly want what comes out of those pants.” Unable to resist, he rubbed a hand
along Ethan’s flank as he moved past him, up the steps, and onto Exodus End’s
tour bus. The man did know exactly how to remind Trey that he was desired.

“It’s
her!” Reagan jabbed at the crumpled tabloid spread across the counter. Toni was
standing beside her, shaking her head.

“No,
not that one. The other one.” Toni pointed to a photograph on the page. “
That’s
the woman who convinced my mother to steal my data and leak your information to
the press. That’s the woman who had the connections with the tabloids and wrote
the articles. Her name is Susan.”

“Okay,
fine,” Reagan said, “but
that’s
the reporter who was at the visitation
for Sed’s dad. Her hair is different, but I’ll remember that face until I die.”

“Her?”
Toni’s eyes went wide. “Are you sure?”

Trey
moved in close behind the two women so he could see what they were looking at.

“What
are they doing with Steve? That is Steve, isn’t it?” Reagan scanned the bus
interior, presumably for the man in question, but when she noticed Trey, she gave
him a quick hug. “Isn’t it great?” she said to Trey, her smile lighting up her
eyes. “Toni was duped.”

“There
is nothing great about being duped,” Toni said glumly. “To think you can’t even
trust your own mother.”

“Steve!”
Reagan called. “Are you still on the bus? I need to ask you something.”

A
bunk curtain along one side of the bus slid open. “It’s about damn time you
figured out Steve’s dick in your bush is worth the two dicks you already have.”

“Say
what now?” Reagan said, sending him a frosty glare.

“Come
here,” Toni said. “We need to ask you about these two women.”

“Only
two? I prefer an even three.”

Toni
snorted. “Three isn’t even.”

“Feels
even when one’s sitting on my face, another is riding my cock, and a third is
licking my balls.”

“Will
you stop?” Reagan grabbed Steve by one arm and maneuvered him in front of the
tabloid. “You can go find some pussy or three after you help us figure this
out.”

Steve
looked down at the picture Toni was pointing at and crinkled his nose. “Why did
you show me that? I won’t be able to get hard for days.” Reagan punched his
arm. “Ouch. Hours, then. No need to get violent over a little lie.”

“Who
are these women?” Reagan said.

“Bianca
in a wedding dress and me in a tux didn’t give it away?” Steve shook his head
at their obvious stupidity.

“Who’s
the other woman with you? I recognize Zach, but who is she?”

“That’s
Tamara, Bianca’s younger sister.”