The Silk Tie (Erotic Threesome Romance) (24 page)

She
slapped my shoulder. “Bloody hell, we don’t even know yet and you’re fussing.”

Gabe
slid his cock from my ass. I bit my bottom lip and stared down at Hayley. I
loved the feeling of him pulling back but also hated it. The loss of him there made
me sad for the briefest of moments.

But I
knew there’d always be more.

I
slipped from Hayley and looked down at her slender, flushed body. Her nipples
were tight peaks and her skin a little grazed from my body hair.

She
drew up her legs and scooted to the edge of the bed.

Gabe
knelt next to me, wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulled me against him and
kissed my temple. “What will be will be,” he whispered.

My
stomach knotted and a shiver of anticipation crawled over my sweat-damp skin.

That
small white plastic stick on the bedside drawers held the key to our future—a
future we all desperately wanted together.

Hayley
picked it up without looking at it. She turned to face us and pulled in a deep
breath, her breasts rising and then falling.

“Go
on,” Gabe said. “What’s the result?”

I
licked my lips. My mouth was dry. My focus fuzzed.

“Hales,”
Gabe said, impatience lacing his tone as he squeezed me closer. He was as
anxious as me.

“Yes,”
Hayley said, nodding. She looked down at it.

I held
my breath, reached for Gabe’s hand and gripped it tight.

“Yes,”
she said again. “Yes.”

“Yes?”
I said. “Yes what?” I didn’t dare hope. Couldn’t give that ecstatic emotion
space to burst out if it wasn’t going to be allowed to.

“Yes,”
she said again and flashed the stick our way. “I’m pregnant, you’re going to be
fathers.”

The
words rattled around my brain, ricocheting and bouncing. My emotions pinged
skyward. Everything I’d ever hoped for was going to happen,
was
happening.

Gabe
grabbed the side of my face, turned my head and kissed me hard.

A
whimper of delight burst from my chest when he released me and rushed to
Hayley.

He
scooped her into his arms and kissed her too.

I
stared at them both. My soul felt complete. Our union wasn’t conventional, but
we were as happy as any family could ever be, and now we would be adding to it.

It
didn’t matter who the biological father was, the child was ours, mine, Gabe’s
and Hayley’s, and we’d all love and cherish it—I already did.

I
climbed from the bed and wrapped my arms around both Gabe and Hayley, pulled
them close into my embrace and set my lips on Hayley’s head. She was so
precious to me, I couldn’t imagine her being more so, yet here she was,
carrying our child.

I shut
my eyes and felt Gabe stroke my cheek.

The day
I’d walked into his office and had seen him sitting behind his huge desk all
gorgeous and competent had been the best day of my life. It had changed the
course of my future. His sexy smile, the way his eyes smoldered when he’d
looked at me, it had released something deep inside that I couldn’t deny any
longer. I’d tried to live a gay life, attempted a marriage to a woman, but it
was this, having two people to love, to give myself to that was my destiny.

“I love
you both,” I said, feeling my eyes dampen behind my closed lids. “So much it
hurts.”

“And we
love you,” Hayley said softly, pressing closer to me.

“Forever,”
Gabe added. “For as long as you want us.”

“I will
always want you.” I opened my eyes. “Nothing will ever change that.”

Lily Harlem is an award-winning
author of erotic romance and lives in the UK with her husband and several
rescued pets. She is published on both sides of the Atlantic and has over
thirty titles to her name and more waiting to hit the shelves. Since giving up
an adrenaline-soaked career nursing in a busy London trauma unit, she has
immersed herself in the wonderful, slower-paced world of writing steamy
stories. Now with a desk overlooking rolling hills and lush farmland she lets
her vivid imagination run riot and adores the journey it takes her on. Her
characters are colorful, feisty and romantic and many come with a sprinkle of
kink, so hang on for the ride, or rides as the case might be, because the
bedroom door is left well and truly open in all of Lily's books! 

Find more details of Lily
Harlem’s raunchy, romantic novels on her
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“If
you enjoyed The Silk Tie you’ll LOVE The Glass Knot.”

Prologue

Josh

“Here’s
to us.” Nick clinked his glass against mine and gave a seductive smile, one
that promised a night of sex hotter than the Costa Del Sol’s midday sun.

“To
us,” I said, tapping the rim of my champagne flute against his, “and surviving
against the odds.” I leaned forward over a plate of delicate canapés and kissed
him. My stubble scratched his smooth chin, and I berated myself for not finding
the time to shave before our romantic moonlit meal. All I’d done today was
lounge on the beach listening to the lapping waves and losing myself in my
Kindle. I’d had a beer and some watermelon at lunchtime and hadn’t even noticed
Nick step away to book the best table at The Pier restaurant; the one right at
the very end, set slightly apart and partially screened from other diners by a
row of potted pink Acacia plants.

“Ten
years since tying the knot,” Nick said, knocking back a slug of champagne. “And
man, it’s been pretty up and down.”

I
glanced out at the endless stretch of black water. A single strip of silvery
light from the moon shone down, creating a magical sparkling path that tapered
into the horizon. I popped a spicy battered prawn into my mouth and savored the
sweet chili, so different to the rank, prejudiced flavor I’d had constantly in
my mouth as we’d battled my father’s revulsion of our gay union.

Nick
tipped his head and studied me. “I know I told you already but I’m so enjoying
having this time with you here. Marbella has always been somewhere I wanted to
bring you.”

I
smiled. “It’s great, the perfect anniversary destination.”

Nick
pressed back in his chair as a suited waiter set a whole sea bass before him.
The crispy skin was blackened and sprinkled with crystals of salt. A vivid
green salad tossed with olives and walnuts accompanied it.

“Thanks,”
I said as my fillet steak, coated with creamy stilton sauce, arrived. Fat chips
over-spilling a white bowl were set alongside yet more salad

The
waiter topped up our glasses, and Nick nodded for another bottle of champagne
to be brought out. I adored him when he was in this spoiling-me mood. Just
occasionally, when he was feeling romantic he really splashed out. Not that he
wasn’t always considerate, he was, but away from his office and in this
luscious relaxed holiday state, I really got to enjoy him, all of him. Every
last bit of him.

We dug
into our sumptuous main courses, chatting about our Cotswold cottage and
whether or not the new thatch would be complete by the time we arrived home. We
also had a decorator in, freshening up the living room and scrubbing out the
inglenook which had blackened over several winters of blazing log fires. Log
fires that we’d thoroughly enjoyed sprawling in front of naked and sweaty,
adoring each other’s bodies, from early evening until the small hours of the
morning. The hearth rug had been replaced, twice, each one bigger and more
luxurious than the last.

An
elegant yacht broke through the shimmering path of moonlight at our side. We
paused to admire the sails and speculate which celebrity might be cruising by.
What decadent millionaire was holding a lavish party for a select few, and
guessing the food and drink that would be served, what music would be played.
Perhaps he even had a live performer, someone fabulous and talented,
internationally famous entertaining his guests.

By the
time my pineapple sorbet and Nick’s chocolate torte arrived I was feeling as
mellow as I ever could. My sun-kissed limbs were relaxed and my mood chilled. A
holiday with Nick, eating a beautiful meal on our tenth anniversary was about
as perfect a moment as I could imagine.

“Mmm,
try this,” Nick said, offering forward a dollop of his torte.

I
opened my mouth willingly, as I always did for him, no matter what he offered.
“Yum,” I said, licking my lips and letting the heavy truffle dissolve on my
tongue. “That’s fabulous.”

“Do you
still think of Her?” he asked suddenly. His dark gaze captured mine, and his
expression fell serious.

“Her?”
I knew full well who he was talking about. Her, She, was fictitious, and
stemmed from a drunken conversation we’d had several years ago.

“I’m
sorry, Josh.” He covered my hand with his. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“No,
it’s fine.”

He
rubbed his thumb over my knuckles and stared, unblinking at his caressing
movements. “Seriously, forget it.”

I
sucked in a deep breath. I couldn’t ignore the question, not now he’d asked it.
Because the truth was I did still think of Her. In quiet moments She was
conspicuous by her absence. I’d suspected I was gay in my mid-teens, but it
wasn’t until I’d met Nick and fallen for him that I’d handed my body over to
another person—Nick was still my one and only lover. “You know you’re the
most important thing in the world to me, Nick, the pivotal focus of my every
waking moment,” I said and then paused, my tongue stalling with words that
might hurt. “But yes, I do sometimes still think of being with a woman.”

Nick
pulled his eyebrows low and studied my face.

“It’s
different for you,” I went on. “You had Cheryl before we met, Cheryl and
others. For me there has only ever been you.”

Gnawing
on his bottom lip, Nick shook his head. “The past is the past, but because of
circumstances and our age difference, I would hate to stop you experiencing
something you feel you should—“

“No,
it’s not like that, it’s not because I feel I should, it’s just…” I struggled
to put my feelings into words even though these were not new thoughts and
emotions. In fact I’d discussed it recently with one of our friends who’d known
he was into guys from a very early age. He’d said the idea of sex with a woman
repulsed him and he would rather burn in hell.

Trouble
was I didn’t feel like that, there had been girls, women over the years who’d
caught my eye and I’d found myself physically attracted to them. Not that I’d
done anything about it but the thought of sex with a woman appealed to me, even
though I loved Nick and loved having sex with him, I often imagined being
inside a soft, sweet feminine body. And, like a small crack above a door frame,
over the years of that door opening and shutting—each time I fantasized
about being with a woman—it just got bigger. Now it was so big, that
crack, it was starting to spit little chunks of plaster onto the foundations of
our relationship. Nick had been right to bring it up—it was time to face
facts. I wasn’t as gay as I thought I was.

“It’s
an urge isn’t it?” Nick said, with an understanding frown.

I
nodded gratefully. “Yes, an urge, but I can control it. If you hadn’t mentioned
it I probably wouldn’t have thought of it for days.”

“Days…?”
His lips stayed parted as if about to say more.

“Yes,
days.” I knew I’d surprised him with the frequency of my yearning, but it had
to be said and it was, after all, him who’d brought Her up. He deserved the
truth.

“Josh,
I had no idea.”

I
shrugged, withdrew my hand from his and scooped in a mouthful of my sorbet. I’d
come to the conclusion there must be different levels of gayness. Much as some
gay blokes were repulsed by women’s bodies, there was an opposite end to the
spectrum, which I guessed was where I sat. And so did Nick. He’d been married
to Cheryl, lived a straight life and had a whole pile of hetro sex that, he’d
told me, he’d enjoyed—he just hadn’t loved Cheryl enough to spend his
life with her.

“Well,
that just proves something needs to be done,” Nick said in a steely tone. “If
these are thoughts you’re having on a daily basis.”

“Not
every day.”

“Just
most.” He placed down his spoon, leaving a big chunk of his torte.

I
reached over and cupped his cheek, stared at his long face, handsome and strong
and strewn with shadows. He usually sported a dark layer of neatly trimmed
facial hair but he’d shaved it off saying he didn’t want an uneven tan. “I
don’t want to risk anything or anyone coming between us,” I said. Rocking our
peaceful existence terrified me considerably more than suppressing an
urge—urges I could cope with, urges I had control over.

“But
where is the risk?” Nick covered my hand with his palm and tipped his head so
his cheek pressed more firmly against me. “What we have is so strong, so solid,
how can you experiencing one night with a woman possibly break it?”

I
thought for a moment then sighed. “I don’t think it would break it. I’m just
scared about throwing a spanner in the works. We’re so happy and we have been
for so long as tonight, ten years married, proves.”

“So
what better time to do this, Josh, while we’re secure and strong?” He set his
jaw in the determined way he did when sure of something. I felt it tense
beneath my palm.

“I
suppose you’re right.” I paused, my mind flooding with thrilling possibilities
as well as hurdles. “But I couldn’t just have sex with anyone. That wouldn’t
work for me I would have to…” I hesitated.

“Go
on.”

“She
would have to have that certain something, make me feel comfortable and excited
both mentally and physically. You couldn’t just hire me a prostitute and think
that would work.”

He sat
back, forcing me to drop my hand from his face. He folded his arms over his
chest and tightened his fingers into his biceps creating little dents in his
tanned flesh. “Of course I wouldn’t hire you a prostitute, what do you take me
for?”

I
smiled, scooped up a chunk of my sorbet and offered it forward. “Here, try
this, you’ll love it.”

He
narrowed his eyes, but a sparkle deep within them told me he’d been quickly
placated. Yes, holidays definitely suited Nick’s moods. They were much less
fractious.

“That’s
fabulous,” he said, after taking the icy sweet treat.

“Yeah,
it is.”

There
was a long, thought-filled pause.

“But we
don’t know anyone who would be suitable,” Nick said eventually with a sigh. “I
work from home and you work with a bunch of burly guys. And let’s face it, even
if we both worked with hordes of women, finding one who would be willing to go
to bed with a gay man, just so he had the experience of fucking a woman, would
be pretty slim.”

I
shrugged. “I know, in fact, it’s virtually impossible which make this whole
conversation hypothetical.” It was time to get back to just being us and take
Her out of our special evening. I dropped my gaze downwards, as if undressing
him with my eyes and said in a lowered voice, “Besides, you keep me more than
satisfied, in every department.”

“I’m
glad to hear it,” he said, draining the last of his champagne and giving me the
lopsided grin I adored, the one that dimpled his left cheek, right in the
center and made him look so damn sexy. “But just so we’re clear, and I’ve said
this before, we may be committed to one another, but if the opportunity arises
for you to lose your virginity in the conventional sense, then you have my
blessing. It might be tomorrow, it might be years from now, but I’m there for
you when it does, one hundred percent.”

“Thank
you, but the chance of Her existing are pretty remote.”

“She
could be in Marbella right now, you never know, Josh.”

Once
again I looked out at the inky expanse of ocean. Beyond the horizon lay Africa,
with all of its exotic scents and sights, taste and delights. I’d experienced a
small section of the vast continent as a tourist, though Nick, before we’d met,
had traveled it extensively with Cheryl. They’d toured all over the West Coast,
she’d been a doctor and he was an architect. They’d spent a couple of years
helping set up hospitals in the poorest countries. And then he’d met me, one
night in a bar in Notting Hill and acknowledged that he was gay. The marriage
had come to an abrupt end.

Occasionally
I felt bad about it, but I knew it wasn’t my fault. Nick had made his own
decisions, and ultimately Cheryl was a happier woman now. We met up
occasionally, with Cheryl. Nick stayed in touch and liked to ensure she had
everything she needed. Although why he worried I had no idea, being that she
was now a professor and married to a world class ophthalmologist. She had
everything she wanted and more, including three children. Nick meeting me had
saved her from a life that revolved around a lie.

“Anything
else, sir?” a waiter asked, appearing at our side and directing the question at
Nick.

Nick
glanced at me. “No, I think we’re done. Just the bill, please.”

His
foot touched my calf, just the tip of his summer shoe, and I knew he was
thinking the same as me. After an evening of champagne and fine dining, and
with a luxury suite awaiting us at The Peniche Hotel, there was only one thing
left on the agenda.

Sex.

Nick
paid the bill, and we wandered back down the pier, hand in hand.