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Marek didn’t agree with Weston’s assessment of his chest. He was a large man, muscular, despite the scars lining so much of the right side of his body. The burns didn’t stop at his neck, but drifted along one shoulder as well.
Perfection was overrated. Weston’s body told a story, spoke of the pain, the danger, the hardships he’d faced and overcome. It made him appear stronger, not weaker as Wes thought.
“If it were a contest, you’d win,” Marek admitted.
Weston snorted in disbelief. “Have you ever been with a man, Marek?”
Marek shook his head.
“I didn’t think so.”
“Have you?” Rose asked. Marek noticed she had moved closer to where they stood next to the bed. Gone was the submissive. In her place was a woman under no man’s control.
She sat watching them, her flushed cheeks betraying her arousal.
Wes nodded just once. “Pet wasn’t the only submissive my parents played with. Elroy believed it was important for a good Dom to know how to control submissives of both sexes.”
“I didn’t know that,” Rose whispered.
“It was only a couple of times.” Weston looked at Marek. “And it was nothing like what’s happening now.”
Marek saw the same attraction he felt reflected back at him.
“Tonight there is no past, no Dom, no submissive. It’s just Wes and Rose and Marek.”
Rose clasped her hands together in her lap as she looked at Marek. “I’d like that.” She slid from the bed, filling the small space between him and Weston.
She reached down, gathering the material of the sheer gown in her hands, pulling it up.
Neither he nor Weston moved as she bared herself to them. Marek had caught glimpses of her shapely figure when she’d stood before the fire. He’d had to force himself to look away, determined to be a gentleman. Rose made it hard. She was so lovely.
“Rose.” Weston’s voice was reverent. “I’ve wanted this, you…” His voice broke slightly.
Rose shivered and Marek reached for her, ready to warm her if needed. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“No.”
She stood directly between them, her sides pressed against them. Reaching up, she ran her hands down their chests at the same time. Then she turned to face Marek, lifting her face, enticing him to kiss her.
He considered her invitation, understood that she’d chosen to start with him because there was less baggage, fewer emotions.
Reaching down, he cupped her cheeks, then bent his head to kiss her. Every gentlemanly thought went out of his head when his lips touched hers. Rose’s hands gripped his sides and he couldn’t decide if she was trying to tug him closer, or gaining purchase to push him away.
She was the very definition of contradiction.
Fire and ice.
Sweet and tart.
Fear and longing.
He didn’t let go. He couldn’t. Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss, stroked his tongue against hers.
Hot breath on his cheek told him Weston had moved closer. Unwilling to merely observe, he’d shifted forward, caging Rose between them, placing his hands on top of hers at Marek’s sides.
Marek lifted his head just a few inches to find Weston, to see his eyes.
Weston was looking at him, his hungry, hopeful expression telling Marek everything he needed to know without words.
