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The mental image of Leo on one side, Dane on the other, and me in between them caused the dull ache between my legs to morph into a pulsating throb. Need overtook me again, which was insane because I’d spent the night going at it with two guys. I should be tired. Sore. Done.
But no. I was now a nympho. I grinned and rubbed my cheek against the pillow, the scent of Dane—and sex—lingered. I had a vague recollection of Leo getting out of bed sometime in the middle of the night. He’d never come back, leaving one side of me cold. After that, I'd probably passed out from exhaustion.
The groggy haze of sleep still clouded my mind, but thinking about it now, middle of the night?
No, that wasn't possible. It had been the middle of the night when I first woke up from that nightmare. Then they’d fucked me senseless for hours before they tucked me beneath the covers. Which would make the time now about...
Holy crap.
I jackknifed up to a seated position, panicked as I looked around for a clock in Dane's room. Both nightstands flanking the bed were bare. What time was it? Sunlight streamed in through the large windows—Dane’s apartment was too high up for him to need blinds—the view of the city was stunning. Jumping out of bed, I rushed over to my purse to check my phone. God, I was naked and in an almost-stranger’s bedroom. The cool air made my nipples harden, only reminding me of Leo sucking on them.
Shit. Shit!
I couldn’t think about what we’d done. I couldn’t think about being naked with them.
Them! God, remembering their chiseled torsos, their big hands and what they could do with them. And their cocks? Holy crap. My inner walls clenched. Yeah, my pussy remembered all too well what they could do with them.
I glanced out the wall of windows. It had to be close to midday. I never slept this late. I never fucked two guys either.
Dammit. I had client calls and emails to reply to, staff to track down, and a ton of baking to start. And it was already afternoon?
When I finally fished my phone out of the bottom of my bag and checked the time, I let out a curse under my breath. Nine-fifteen. Shit. I hadn’t slept past six in years.
Thank God it was Monday, though. Mondays were the quietest day of my week, event-wise. I rarely had anything scheduled, today included, and usually spent it organizing the kitchen, buying food and supplies, connecting with clients to firm up plans or pitch and finalize event details, and scheduling my employees.
But now, with more than half the day gone, I was screwed. I knew from memory that I had two scheduled catering gigs tomorrow. A Lower Manhattan art gallery showing that the owner hired me to cater, and a sweet sixteen birthday party in Midtown. Tuesday nights always seemed to end up double booked, and this one was no different.
Scrambling to open my text app, I sent a quick message to Jane to confirm she'd left my catering van at my work kitchen last night. Instead of waiting for a reply, I headed into Dane's bathroom, stood under the cascading steam showerhead for maybe an extra minute or two of self-indulgence, and wrapped myself in one of his plush, luxurious bath towels. As I had zero extra time and no idea whether or not Dane had a blow dryer, I used another towel to dry my hair, then headed back to my phone. Jane had replied and confirmed that everything from last night was back at the kitchen.
Last night at the O’Sullivan mansion.
The whole ordeal teased at the corners of my mind—the dead man’s unseeing eyes, the hole in his forehead—and threatened to send me reeling with panic again, but I forced it down and focused on work. As usual. People needed me, and I needed to keep my eyes on the prize. Work came first, just like it had yesterday, and the day before that, and just like it would tomorrow and a year from now.
Shoving my phone back into my purse, I looked for my clothes.
Clothes.
I had none.
My dress from last night was in no shape for being worn a second time, not in public in broad daylight. It would scream walk-of-shame. I was sure if I asked nicely, Dane or Leo would let me borrow something to wear for my trip home.
Home, where my life was, and Leo hadn’t wanted me to go there last night. He hadn't thought I'd be safe. Or anywhere other than with them. As sweet and kind and thoughtful and utterly sexy as the gesture was, I still had a business to run. I couldn't afford to hide within these walls, getting my groove on while waiting for an O'Sullivan shoe to drop. I had contractors to pay. Employees. Rent. Food would spoil and my clients? I’d be sued and my business would go under. There were no days off in my world.
Tightening the towel around my torso, I straightened and steeled my resolve before leaving the bedroom to look for Dane or Leo.
I wasn't backing down.
I wouldn't fall into bed with them another time.
This time, I was leaving. Going to work. Getting back to my life. Last night was wild and all, but with the daylight came reality. All I needed was a set of clean clothes to return to it.
I looked through the first open doorway as I walked down the hall and found Dane behind a large mahogany desk, eyes glued to a laptop. Suddenly, I was self-conscious. I’d slept with this man mere hours ago. Him and Leo. I’d fucked two men at the same time. Not just fucked, but dropped my inhibitions along with my dress. And here I was, believing I could stand before him, covering my naked body with just a towel, and act normal as I asked for a spare t-shirt and sweatpants so I could go home.
It was totally unrealistic.
Not only for them. For me, too. Because already, I was aroused. My nipples were hard, my core was tightening, and I had to press my thighs together to get some control over my throbbing clit. All caused just by looking at Dane in his casual shirt and jeans, sleeves rolled up.
I swallowed, hard. If I’d been wearing panties, they’d be ruined. What was it about him that was such a turn-on? And he hadn’t said a word.
