Raising the Stakes: Three of a Kind, Book 2 (2 page)

She stood, leaving him crouched on the floor like an idiot. “Desmond Reed, if you have a problem with me, say so. Don’t you dare shut me out or ignore me.”

He stood reluctantly and took a step towards her. Glass crunched beneath his shoe. “I’m not ignoring you.” As if he could. The woman was on his mind twenty-four hours a day.

“Oh, really?” She lifted a disbelieving eyebrow. “Working too hard to make one lousy phone call?” Meg turned her back on him, opened a long, thin cupboard, and withdrew a broom. “Your accountant? Please, give me a break.”

He held out his hand to take the broom from her, but she shook her head. “Don’t bother. I’ll do it.”

Shit. Stubborn woman. He pulled out a chrome and white leather kitchen stool from the breakfast nook, took hold of Meg’s shoulders and bodily forced her to sit. Then he helped himself to the broom and went to work on the shattered glass. Shards lay everywhere, and the task took all his attention.

Her gaze burned a hole through his back as he swept.

“You going to explain yourself anytime soon?” Meg asked when he’d swept the glass into a neat mound.

He gripped the edge of the broom handle and rested his chin on his hands, eyeing her uneasily. Did he open up and tell her he’d fallen crazy in love with her and was consumed by a jealousy that ate away at him?

Yeah, that would go down about as well as a mouthful of the splintered glass.

He took a minute to consider his options, not once dropping her gaze. He might need time to think, but he wouldn’t let her believe he was still ignoring her.

“Remember when you discovered your mother had cancer?” he asked at last.

She frowned. “As if I could ever forget.”

“Remember how long it took you to talk about it?” Every day he’d asked if she was okay, and every day she’d pulled further away from him, refusing to tell him what was going on or why she looked like hell and hadn’t eaten in a week.

“Uh-huh.” Her cheek twitched.

“Instead of telling me she was sick, you asked me to give you a little space.”

Her cheek twitched again, a telltale sign she was distressed. “Is your mother sick?”

He shook his head. “No, she’s fine.”

She narrowed her eyes. “W-what about you?”

Crap, she’d gotten the wrong idea. “I’m fine too. We all are. It’s not about anyone being sick.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Then why are we discussing my mother?”

“We’re not.” How the fuck to explain? “We’re talking about me. I just, uh, I’m going through something. I need a little space is all.”

Meg stared at him. She blinked once, then again, her long, thick lashes sweeping over her expressive green eyes. A million questions crowded them, framing her distress, but she said nothing.

Silence spread through the kitchen, the quiet made even more obvious by the echo of laughter on the other side of the door.

He couldn’t stand looking at her a second longer. The need to throw down the broom and sweep her into his arms was so powerful his hands shook. With measured movements, he headed for the same cupboard she’d just opened and found a dustpan and brush.

Thank fuck. Something to do. He crouched down and swept the shards into the pan.

“I don’t know what to say.” Her words broke the silence.

He shrugged. “Nothing to say. Just give me the space I need and we’ll be cool.”

“I’m not allowed to ask what you’re going through?” Her voice held more than a hint of worry.

He shook his head without looking at her. What else could he do?

“You’re asking the impossible, Des. If you’re having trouble, I want to help. I need to help.”

“I know you do. But you can’t, not this time.” Not unless she was willing to dump Alex and spend the rest of her life in his arms. Preferably naked.

“What about my shoulder? Can I at least offer that to you?”

Only if it came unclothed and attached to the rest of her nude body. “You can offer…”

“But you won’t be taking me up on it anytime soon,” she finished for him.

The floor was clean. No more shards anywhere to use as a distraction. He opened the bin and tossed the broken remnants of the glass inside. Finally, when there was no other option left, he turned to face her. “I’m sorry if I acted like an asshole. You know I’d never intentionally hurt you.”

“I’m sorry you’re dealing with shit.” The warmth was back in her eyes. The warmth she reserved only for him. It heated him all the way through to his bones.

Then she smiled at him. It caught him in the gut and yanked hard at his dick, forcing him to remember all over again just why the fuck he needed time away from her.

Jumping his best friend in her boyfriend’s sleek, designer kitchen was not something either Meg or Alex would take kindly to.

“I’ll get over it,” he told her. He probably would. When he was dead.

He studied her face, studied the Meg-a-watt smile and the radiant glow in her cheeks. Her skin shone and her eyes reflected a contentment he’d never noticed before.

The comprehension hit him like a shock to the heart. “You look different, Meggy,” he said slowly. “You look…happy.” Usually he wanted her to be happy. When she was happy, he was happy. Not this time. This time the joy in her eyes ripped through his gut like a poisoned knife.

Her expression softened, her eyes crinkling. For a long moment she stared out the kitchen door while her lips danced to a secret pleasure. “I am happy,” she said at last. “Happier than I’ve ever been.” She looked back at him. “It’s Alex.”

The knife twisted in his gut, slashing his insides. The simple task of swallowing became impossible.

“He’s good for me.” Her expression turned dreamy. “He loves me.”

“Yeah, I kinda noticed that.”

Her eyes lit up. “You did?”

If he could just keep his face blank and his voice normal, Meg would never pick up on the poison spreading through his body, slowly killing him. “Sure. The guy’s spirits are as high as yours. When you rang the doorbell earlier, he almost knocked over his chair leaping out of it to get to you.” The sensible, goal-oriented, focused bloke acted like a little kid around her.

Laughter pealed out of her. “You’re kidding, right?”

Christ, when had he ever made her laugh like that? “Would I do that to you?”

She shook her head, a fat grin plastered over her face.

“How about you? You love him too?” What the fuck was he trying to do? Pour poison down his throat, just in case the knife didn’t carry enough?

Her eyes closed and her smile grew bigger. “I do.”

Hell.
Good thing she couldn’t see him. He knew his face had twisted, the agony her words caused more effective than any poison he could ever have swallowed.

“Then I’m happy for you too.” He whispered because he could not find the strength to say the words out loud.

His tone must have given away some of his misery, for she opened her eyes and looked at him. “You’ll be happy again too, you know?”

Yeah, when? “I know.”

“Whatever you’re going through, you’ll get through it.”

He nodded. “I know.” Maybe if he moved to Antarctica the cold would freeze out his pain.

“I’m here for you, anytime.”

“You always have been.”

She frowned then, her face shadowing with doubt. “Des?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cut me out. Please. I might be with Alex now, but you’re still my best friend. I haven’t forgotten that.”

“I could never cut you out.” The reply sprang from his mouth before he could double-check it. “You think I could survive without you?” The woman was as vital as oxygen. Without her he couldn’t breathe.

She huffed. “You’ve done a pretty good job of it these last few weeks.”

Showed what she knew. He’d stopped living the day he realized he loved her. The same day she met Alex. He merely existed now. “I’m a mess, Meggy-mine. I’m all screwed up. Believe me, I need you to keep me in line.”

She jumped off the stool and walked over to him. “Yeah, well, remember that when you’re going through whatever it is you’re going through.” She laid her uninjured hand on his cheek. “I’m here whenever you need me.”

Holy fuck and fucking hell. He couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think. She stood so close he need only lower his head a couple of inches and their lips would touch. He could finally do what he’d been aching to do since the night of Hunter’s party: kiss her. Cover her mouth with his and sip from her lips. Discover the unique taste of his very best friend.

Blood roared in his ears, thrashed around his veins and finally pooled in his dick.

While Meg stared sweetly into his eyes, proudly pledging her support and friendship, his erection burgeoned between them. One step closer on Meg’s part, and she’d be pressed against the hardest, neediest penis in the history of mankind.

God help him, he wanted her to take that step.

No, he didn’t. If she came any closer, he’d be forced to reveal the secret he’d harbored from her this last month. The disclosure would be both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because he could finally admit his true feelings to his best friend and a curse, because once she knew, the truth would surely destroy their relationship. No way could Meg deal with him loving her when she loved another man. Her guilt over his unrequited emotions would eat away at her. She’d begin to pity him and she’d hate herself for it.

He would never allow her to shoulder that kind of responsibility. Nor would he muscle in on her relationship with Alex. He refused to be that big a dick.

Des had to escape the torture of her touch. Her hand seared his cheek.

One of two things would happen if he didn’t get his ass the hell away from her. He’d either give in to the urge to kiss her, or he’d slap her arm away.

In the end, he removed her hand from his cheek and held it in his. He took a small step back, giving his erection some much-needed space. “I’m lucky to have you in my life.”

Gently as could be, he raised her hand to his face and pressed his lips against the satiny softness of her palm. It took every ounce of his self-control not to open his mouth and run his tongue along her skin, taste her sweetness.

Her cheeks turned pink. “Des…”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Time to change the subject. “How’s your finger?”

She frowned, as though startled by the question. “Uh, it’s better now.” She shook off the paper towel and inspected it. “The bleeding’s stopped.”

“You should probably put a Band-Aid on it, just in case.” Maybe a Band-Aid could help him too? He’d place it over the cut the knife had inflicted and hope to God a massive infection didn’t set in.

She nodded. “You’re right. I think I saw some in the bathroom.”

He looked at the door. “Go get one. I’ll take care of the drinks.” With that, he picked up the tray she must have prepared before breaking the glass and walked back to the lounge room. Another minute alone with her in the tight confines of the small kitchen, and every resolve he had not to haul her into his arms would have been tossed into the garbage along with the shattered glass.

Chapter Two

Megan found it impossible to remain dressed when she and Alex were alone. Before he’d latched the door shut behind the terrible triplets, the last guests to leave, she was ripping at the buttons of her shirt. By the time he’d locked up and turned around, her panties were on the floor and her bra had landed haphazardly on the back of the couch. In her twenty-seven years she’d never met a sexier man or a more skilled lover.

The scorching look he gave her burned straight through to her bones. Alex’s clothes vanished as quickly as hers had, and then she was in his arms, raising her face to his.

“Christ, baby, I’ve waited the whole damn night to do this.” He took her lips in a blistering kiss and molded his hands to the shape of her bare breasts.

Just twenty-nine and he’d mastered moves a man ten or twenty years older would envy.

Billions of goose bumps erupted over her flesh. Her desire had steadily increased the whole evening. Between Alex’s kiss hello, the emotional shock of arguing with Des and the feel of her friend’s soft lips on her palm once they’d made up, she was primed and ready for a night of carnal loving. Her nipples, already tight from wanting Alex, now pebbled and ached beneath his touch.

Megan’s knees buckled, forcing her to lean against the table for support. Her heart raced at an uncontrollable speed and anticipation zipped up her spine. Alex looked at her with eyes as dark as night. Passion blazed in their depths and love lit his face. Love that he’d admitted to just days ago, in the middle of an exquisitely romantic dinner date. A love she returned with an open heart.

Her hands were all over him, tunneling through his thick, black hair, smoothing over the massive expanse of his shoulders, grasping the muscled flesh of his butt cheeks. She couldn’t get enough. Wanted more, needed more.

Alex released her long enough to shove the debris of cards and chips aside, clearing a space for them. He lifted Megan onto the table and moved back in for another kiss, pushing her knees apart so he could stand between her legs.

Hunger assaulted her. Lust spread through her body, awakening dormant nerve endings. Alex’s touch was a live wire. Sparks flared at every point of contact between the two of them.

Her breasts, heavy and swollen from arousal, were squashed against his chest. Her nipples throbbed, pain and desire combining to work as a potent stimulant. She wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him closer, holding him tight. His cock was full and stiff and rubbed against the slick lips of her pussy. Leaning back on her arms, she thrust her hips towards him, sliding up his length and down again, tormenting herself on the velvety smoothness of his erection.

She need only twist to the left and she’d envelop him, take him deep, deep, deep inside. She wanted him deep. She wanted him hard and fast. She wanted him plunging into her, over and over, hard as he could, until every one of those awakened nerve endings roared with excitement and danced with fulfillment.

Maybe later they’d make long, slow, languid love. Now she just needed him to fuck her.

He stilled her movements. “Can’t,” he gasped. “Not yet. Need…” His words ended with a long moan as she fastened her lips on his neck and sucked.