The Silk Tie (Erotic Threesome Romance) (9 page)

He
pressed his lips to mine and shoved his tongue into my mouth.

There
was a wildness about him, a desperation. It was new and I wanted more of it. I
needed to learn about how he was feeling. So I greedily kissed him back,
pulling in his flavor that was laced with mine and trying to show him that I
only ever thought of him, there was only Gabe.

He slid
his fingers from my pussy and broke the kiss.

I clamped
my legs together and sucked in great lungfuls of steamy air.

“I’m
not gay,” he said, his gaze set on mine.

“I
never said you were. It was just the champagne and the sun and what you told me
about Brent, it got my silly mind whirring. And then with what we did the other
night too, I keep…”

“Go
on…” He still had hold of my face.

I
hesitated.

“Hayley,”
he said sternly, wiping water from his face. “You keep what?”

I bit
my bottom lip, then, “It made me think about men together.”

“What the
hell do you mean?” He frowned.

“Fucking.
Men fucking, I’d never really thought about it but, if two hot guys, into each
other I…” I paused, unable to put my recent thoughts, fantasies into words.

“What?
Damn it, Hayley, stop messing with me.”

“It’s
sexy. Hot, okay, it turns me on to think about it.”

“What,
two men shagging?” He looked incredulous.

“Yes.”
I tried to turn away but his fingers pinched into my cheek and kept me facing
him.

“You’ve
fantasized about men, screwing each other?”

I
nodded. There was no hiding my new thoughts now. “Yes, watching, being with
them, seeing how they do it.” I ran my hands over his wide shoulders. “I don’t
know what sparked it and I’m sorry if it’s upset you.”

“It
hasn’t upset me and don’t be sorry.” He shook his head and licked his lips, his
hold on my face relaxing.

“You’re
not mad?”

He
huffed. “Of course I’m not mad, we all have erotic fantasies, dreams, and
they’re not always under our control.”

I
thought of how I’d used Brent’s name to create an image for Gabe to get off on,
just minutes ago. “But Brent—”

“No.”
He interrupted. “Don’t say his name. Not now.” He flicked off the water and
stepped away. “You just have to remember, Hayley, not all fantasies can be
realized.

I
watched him grab a towel, rub it over his hair then wrap it around his waist.

He
walked from the bathroom.

A
shiver snaked up my spine and slithered over my wet skin.

What
the hell had that all been about?

If I
was confused before about what Gabe wanted I was even more bewildered now.

His
physical reaction just didn’t match his words.

And
like he’d said, words could be powerful and dangerous, but they could also be
deceptive, not just to the listener but also the speaker. Say something enough
times and you could start to believe it yourself.

I
quickly dried, brushed my teeth and applied a tiny bit of makeup. By the time
I’d exited the ensuite, Gabe was dressed in navy slacks and a red-and-white-checked
Tommy Hilfiger shirt.

He was
staring out of the window with his back to me.

“You
okay?” I asked, dropping the towel I’d had around my body.

“Yes.
Of course.”

I
frowned. Wondered about pressing further but decided against it. Whatever Gabe
was battling in his head, he didn’t seem to want me, an ally, wielding a sword
with him.

I
plucked some fresh underwear from my overnight bag and pulled on a flowery
summer dress. After brushing my hair, adding a spritz of perfume and earrings I
slid my hand into his.

He
turned to me, his expression soft again. Gabe was back.

“I do
love you, you know,” I whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“I
know.” He smiled, just a little. “And I love you too. We’ll be together
forever, won’t we?”

“Of
course. Soul mates.”

He
squeezed my hand. “Come on. Brent will be waiting for us.”

Brent
was in the kitchen. Changed and showered from the tennis, he’d laid out a plate
of anti-pasta and three ice-and fruit-filled drinks. They were set on the large
granite island that held a bunch of yellow roses in the center.

“Sit,
sit,” he said when we wandered in holding hands. “Help yourselves to Pimms and
nibbles. I just need to get the topping on the chicken.”

“Anything
I can do to help?” I asked.

“No,
it’s fine.” He paused, holding a bunch of herbs, and smiled at me.  His
gaze flicked over my outfit. “Just look pretty and that will keep us gentlemen
very happy.”

Gabe
laughed and put his hand around my waist. “Indeed,” he said, touching his lips
to my temple. “And she’s very good at that.”

My
heart swelled. I loved Gabe so much, but to have Brent compliment me and give
me an admiring look, well, that was the icing on the cake. Especially when I’d
only thrown the Karen Millen dress on without ironing it and had the barest
smudge of makeup applied.

“Why
thank you,” I said with a smile and took one of the black leather bar stools
around the island. I popped a cherry tomato into my mouth.

He watched
me eat.

“So
tell me, Hayley,” Brent said, turning away and refastening the blue-and-white-striped
apron he was wearing. “What’s it like working for Freight, Lyle and Partners?”

“Not
bad at all,” I said. “I’ve worked my way up to partner level anyway.”

“Did
you join them straight from university?” He looked at me again.

“Yes,
I, we, hadn’t planned on staying at our first firms for so long.” I glanced at
Gabe, who was sipping on Pimms and had a long mint leaf tickling his lip. “We
met in the last year of law school, intended to move to London, get some experience
and then move on, maybe set up our own firm, Stone and Stone.”

“But we
soon got settled, got our feet under the table,” Gabe said.

“And by
the time we started to climb our way up the ladder,” I went on, “in our
respective firms, there seemed little point moving jobs for the sake of moving.
Not when we were both doing well.”

“So
here we are,” Gabe said. “Twelve years on, still in our first jobs, but now
running the firms for all intents and purpose, with our partners, of course.”

Brent
nodded. “I admire you both. Nothing easy about being a lawyer.” He poured oil
over the chicken breasts then ripped the herbs over the top of them. “Anything
dealing with people is hard.”

“I
agree,” I said, sipping my drink.

“Too
complex,” Brent said, washing his hands then drying them on a red tea towel.
“With so many variations from the norm.”

“And
what is right for one person is wrong for another,” Gabe added.

“Exactly,”
Brent said. “In fact, the older I get, the more I wonder what normal is? We’re
taught one thing growing up but it doesn’t marry with reality.”

“I’m
dealing with a complex pre-nup case,” I said. “Any logical person can see it
makes sense, but throw in the emotion of love and it’s created a volcano of
responses from the groom and his family.”

Brent
nodded, sat and reached for his drink. “Love is the singular most worthwhile
thing in life, but yes, it can make everything else really complicated at
times.”

He
glanced out of the window. The sun was losing its strength and long shadows
were stretching over the lawn.

I
picked up my straw and stabbed at a chunk of lemon in my drink. Part of me felt
bad for Brent. Gabe and I had been upstairs, enjoying each other’s bodies while
he’d been alone. I guessed it wasn’t that long ago he’d had a wife, Nadia, yet
suddenly life had changed.

I
couldn’t imagine not having Gabe.

There
was no way I’d be able to carry on.

“Try
these,” Brent said, holding a plate of
canapés
towards Gabe. “Chorizo with
almonds, delicious.”

“Sounds
interesting,” Gabe said, taking one then popping it in his mouth. “Mmm,
lovely.”

Brent
grinned and took one for himself.

“Do you
have a bin?” Gabe asked, holding up a mint leaf that had a long stalk on it.
The one that had been tickling his lip.

“Oh,
sorry. I just grabbed that mint from the herb garden,” Brent said, rolling his
eyes. “Yes, it’s over there.” He pointed to the far end of the kitchen.

Gabe
got off the stool then walked to the bin.

I
looked at his ass—habit. The trousers he had on fitted him perfectly and
I’d picked them up a few weeks ago from John Lewis.

Reaching
for my drink, my attention was caught by the expression on Brent’s face. He too
was staring at my husband’s ass, and not in a casual, his-gaze-had-just-happened-to-rest-that-way
either. It was a look of interest, appreciation, it was a look of longing.

My
heart did a little flip as thoughts whizzed through my mind.

Brent
licked his lips then nibbled on his bottom one and it wasn’t until Gabe had put
the mint in the bin that he turned toward me.

In an
instant I knew that he’d been thinking something improper about Gabe’s ass—about
Gabe in general.

A hint
of color swept his cheeks and he quickly averted his gaze from me. He rubbed
his palm over his jaw, stroking the dense black stubble.

A
thrilling flutter of comprehension rolled over me.

Brent
was into Gabe.

Damn.
Really?

I
didn’t tear my attention from him. I was utterly fascinated. Here was me
thinking I’d gone mad these last few days, dreaming about Gabe with a bloke,
and here was a man, Brent, who fancied him.

I
wasn’t stupid. I knew what I’d seen, what I
could
see.

Nor was
I the sort to rush in once I’d figured something out. The lawyer in me usually
took her time, assessed the lay of the land and decided the best course of
action. Though, of course, as we’d already discussed, when love was involved,
it could get pretty complicated.

Brent
stirred a pan of rice that was bubbling on the hob; the stream swirled upwards
and was sucked into a silent extractor fan.

Oblivious
to it all, Gabe started talking about Brent’s business interests. He was into
buying and selling central city office blocks and car parks, as well as playing
on the stock exchange.

I half
listened and sipped on my fruity drink.

Was
Gabe into Brent in
that
way too? In a stare-at-his-ass way?

The
memory of Gabe on the phone in our garden, relaxed, laughing and chatting came
back to me. I remembered his body language when I’d seen them having lunch
together—close, cozy, as if they were the only people in London that day.

I
looked at Gabe now. He was animated and enthusiastic about a conversation that
had turned to fishing. When had Gabe last chatted about fishing, or even
expressed any interest in it?

Yet
talking to Brent, it was like he’d come to life.

Brent
directed his conversation at Gabe for a while. I wondered if he was composing
himself after I’d caught him ogling Gabe’s ass.

Finally
he turned back to me, the Pimm’s jug in his hand. He hovered it over my now
empty glass.

“Thanks,”
I said. “It’s delicious.”

“Anything
for you,” Brent said, catching my eye for the first time in several minutes.

Why
didn’t I feel jealous that Gabe and Brent clearly liked each other? If Brent
had been a woman I’d want to scratch her eyes out; hell, I probably would, sod
the consequences.

I
looked into Brent’s eyes and the answer came to me. It was because I liked him.
A lot. He was a nice bloke, handsome too, and having a crap time.

Brent
in our lives wasn’t a bad thing.

Or at
least I hoped it wasn’t.

I
started on my fresh drink. It was stronger, the alcohol must have settled at
the base of the jug.

The
timer on the oven bleeped.

“Oh,
that will be it ready,” Brent said. “Shall we eat here or the dining room?”

“I’m
good here,” I said. I realized how tired I was. My legs felt soft and my
shoulders sagged a little.

“Yes,
this is perfect,” Gabe said, “and the view from the kitchen window is lovely.”

“Yes,
it was Mother’s favorite place to sit,” Brent said. “In the window seat there.”
He began to serve the chicken and rice.

“What
was she like?” I asked. “Your mother?”

“Fearless,”
he said. “She had her standards and ways she liked things done, but beneath all
of that she had her own set of rules and be damned if you didn’t like them.” He
laughed as though remembering something. “She always told me to be who I wanted
to be. That I was perfect when I was happy so I should always strive for that.
The only person I should try and be better than, she used to say, was the
person I was the day before.”

“She
sounds very wise,” I said.

“She
was.” Brent set plates of food down in front of me and Gabe. “And beautiful.”

“Well,
here’s to your mother,” Gabe said, holding up his drink.

Brent
sat next to Gabe and did the same. “Yes, to Mother. And this is her recipe.”

“It
looks amazing,” I said.

“Mmm,
tuck in,” Brent said and picked up his knife and fork. “She’d enjoy seeing me
have friends round like this, for a casual supper on a sunny weekend. It was
her favorite sort of get together, although she did do formal dinner parties
that were talked about for weeks afterwards because of their elegance.”

I
started eating and imagined Brent’s mother in the kitchen, cooking while
wearing pearls and heels, her hair gray yet fashionable and her lipstick
perfect. I’d have liked to have met her.

The
meal passed quietly; we were all hungry and the food was perfectly cooked.

As
Brent tidied away the plates I couldn’t suppress a yawn. Too much sun, several
drinks and a good orgasm and I was ready for my bed.

“Would
you mind,” I said, “if I absent myself?” I took hold of Gabe’s hand. “I’m
completely done in; all I can think of is sleep.”

Gabe frowned
a little.

I knew
it was a bit rude, but I just couldn’t help it. I’d hit the wall—the
sleep wall.

“Are
you okay?” Gabe asked.

“Yes,
fine, just you know…” I flapped my hand in front of my face. He’d know by that
gesture that the drink and the long day had gotten to me.

Brent
shut the dishwasher door. “Please, do whatever you must, my home is your home
and I don’t stand on ceremony.” He smiled. “If you’re tired then please, don’t
feel you have to stay awake on my account.”

“Well,
if you’re sure,” I said, thoughts of sinking my head into the soft pillows on
the four-poster bed tempting me further.

“I can
hardly even begin to imagine how busy your week must have been,” Brent said.

I
sighed. “Yes, it has been a bit like that. Okay. I’ll head upstairs.” I stood then
walked up to Brent and place a light kiss on his cheek.

His
facial hair scratched my lips and he smelled of citrus aftershave—melon
and lime, perhaps.

“Thank
you for a wonderful afternoon and meal.”

“You
are more than welcome.” He rested his hand on my shoulder, his palm hot and
heavy. “Anything you need, help yourself.”

I
smiled and turned to Gabe. “See you when you come up.”

“Yes, I
doubt it will be late.”

I
headed up the stairs, enjoying the vast space and the family portraits that
were dotted around.

The sun
had completely left the side of the house the guest suite was situated on so I
pulled the curtains closed, brushed my teeth and after stripping to just my
knickers, flopped on the bed.

My head
spun a little. I wasn’t drunk, just tipsy and tired and feeling completely
satisfied. My body was heavy and drained and it was a pleasant sensation.

I
closed my eyes and allowed a barrage of thoughts to float through my brain.

Gabe’s
tongue between my legs in the shower. Fuck, I’d come so wonderfully.

Me
fingering his ass and holding his cock as he came, his shaft pumping out his
release.

Brent
bending a little, so I could kiss his cheek, with his hand on my shoulder. I’d
kissed many men on the cheek in social situations but somehow, that kiss,
breathing in his aftershave and him touching me, it had felt more intimate than
under normal circumstances.

I
wondered what he’d be like in bed. It wasn’t a thought that generally went
through my mind because other men’s between-the-sheets skills didn’t interest me.

But
Brent Dawson’s did.

Would
he be the same with a man as he was with a woman? Would he have a different
style, rhythm, level of passion, depending on which gender he was with?