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Once clean and dressed, she returned to find both men fast asleep—Ethan sprawled on his back, Trey curled up against his side, using Ethan’s arm as a pillow. What was she worried about? She was the luckiest woman in the world. She had the job of her dreams, an amazing sex life, the love and devotion of two perfect men, and she was even making new friends while on tour. Still, she couldn’t help but worry that her luck would eventually run out. But until that time, she was going to live it up.
Reagan leaned over the bed and kissed Ethan’s lips. He opened sleepy brown eyes and squinted at her.
“If you need anything,” she said, “call or text. I’ll have my phone with me.” She followed Ethan’s gaze to the industrial-size tub of lube on the nightstand.
“Trey will probably run me out of lube by tonight. Better pick up another gallon or two.”
Trey slapped him half-heartedly on the arm. “You’re the one that goes through so much of the stuff.”
“You should be thanking me.”
“My ass thanks you,” Trey said. “My dick doesn’t get to use it often enough, however.”
“I let you fuck me,” Ethan protested.
Trey rolled his eyes, looking irresistible enough to lick. “Rarely.”
“Are you complaining about being in the middle? You weren’t complaining an hour ago.”
Trey worried his tongue piercing with his teeth for a long moment.
“Reagan?” he said finally, squirming his ass against Ethan’s hip. “Would you mind picking up another gallon or two of lube? I think E’s going to need it.”
Reagan chuckled and stretched across Ethan to kiss Trey’s temple. “I’m sure I’m the only woman in the world who has to listen to arguments about her boyfriends’ use of lube.”
“Aren’t you lucky?” Ethan asked, doing something to Trey under the covers that made him gasp with excitement.
“Hey, don’t wear him out,” Reagan said. “I get to be in the middle tonight.”
When she begrudgingly left the suite, Trey and Ethan were laughing over some joke that Sinners’ drummer, Eric Sticks, had told Trey the night before. Why had she suggested a girls’ day on the town—why, why? Frowning slightly, she took the hotel’s elevator down to the ground floor.
She spotted Toni waiting in the lobby. Oh yeah, that was why Reagan had suggested a shopping excursion.
Toni’s long brown hair was fashioned into a braid. Her thick-rimmed glasses would have been hipster if she had a defined style. Her entire wardrobe seemed to have been purchased in a 1990’s thrift store. Today she wore an ankle-length beige pencil skirt, never-seen-her-without-them brown riding boots, and a white button-down blouse with a ruffle down the center. She was one hundred percent too cute to dress the way she did. Reagan wasn’t sure why Logan was so fixated on the woman. Reagan supposed it was because he’d seen Toni naked. Toni had the kind of figure most women would have to purchase.
When Toni spotted Reagan, she waved excitedly. “Logan wants to know if he can come with us,” Toni said.
“Nope. He’s going to have to let you out of his sight for a few hours. He’ll probably die or something.”
Toni giggled and slapped at her. “Oh, please. He’ll probably forget I exist by the time we return.”
Not a chance.
“You can’t come,” Toni called to Logan, who was sitting on a lobby sofa hiding his face behind an upside-down copy of a Good Housekeeping magazine.
“Or follow us,” Reagan added.
“But what if someone tries to touch her?” Logan protested, slapping his magazine down on the end table beside him.
“I’m sure she can take care of herself for one afternoon,” Reagan said.
“In New Orleans? This place changes people.”
“I’ll be fine,” Toni said. “Reagan knows karate.”
“She does?” Logan looked at Reagan hopefully.
She didn’t, but that didn’t stop her from lying. “Oh yeah. I’m a black belt and three-time world champion. If any man so much as glances Toni’s way, I’ll pulverize him into dust. Hi-yah!” She made a chopping motion with one hand. Was he buying it? Would he ever let the poor woman out of his sight?
“Don’t you trust me?” Toni asked, looking up at Logan in a way that visibly turned him into a pile of mush. Reagan ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her laughing at his expense. Man, the guy had it bad.
“I do trust you,” he said, touching Toni’s cheek. “It’s all the douchebags walking around this city that I don’t trust.”
“I don’t think you have much to worry about with her dressed like that,” Reagan said.
Toni ran her hands over her blouse. The woman was in her midtwenties and wearing a bona fide blouse. Didn’t she have friends or a decent female relative to help her see the mistake that was her wardrobe?
“Is it really that bad?” Toni asked.
“With the exception of Logan, who seems to have built up an immunity to its harmful side effects, this get-up you’re wearing here?” Reagan traced the outlines of Toni’s clothes in the air. “I’m afraid it’s cock-withering attire, little one.”
“That’s a good thing,” Logan insisted with his trademark sunny smile.
“Where’s the rest of the crew?” Reagan searched the lobby for signs of the wives and girlfriends of Sinners’ band members. In recent weeks, the ladies had become some of her closest friends, and she was sure she’d need their help to get Toni to discard her schoolmarm wardrobe. Especially since Logan seemed so keen on her keeping it.
When the elevator doors opened, Reagan heard several familiar voices.
Myrna Sinclair was the first off the elevator. She always wore professional suits with tight, midthigh-length skirts—today’s was a dove gray. It was what she wore under them that brought her husband to his knees. And those three-inch heels she wore probably didn’t hurt. Nor had her Ph.D. in sex. What man wouldn’t fall for a woman like her?
Sed Lionheart’s fiancée, Jessica, emerged from the elevator behind Myrna, looking like she’d just stepped out of the pages of Cosmo. Strawberry blond and blue eyed, she had heads turning as she passed. Those same heads swiveled back to the elevator when Aggie stepped forward.
The buxom woman rocked a pair of black leather pants and matching jacket—she’d probably been out riding with Jace on his motorcycle—but though she was gorgeous with her flawless alabaster skin, bright blue eyes, and long, straight black hair that moved like a length of silk when she walked, it was her self-confidence that couldn’t be ignored. She owned the space around her and knew it. She offered no apologies. What Reagan wouldn’t give to possess that much poise.
Bringing up the rear was Rebekah—adorable and petite, with an infectious smile and lime-green streaks in her platinum hair. Beautiful, colorful designs decorated Rebekah’s exposed arms from wrist to shoulder. Reagan swore the woman had a new tattoo every time she saw her.
“Ah, here they come. Are you ready to go, Toni?”
Logan squeezed Toni’s hand and leaned in close to whisper into her ear. She smiled broadly, her cheeks going pink. “I love you too,” she whispered.
Too?
Reagan grinned at the opportunity to torment her band’s bassist. “What’s that, Logan?” Reagan said loudly. “Did you just tell Toni that you love her?”
Toni stiffened, her eyes wide as she looked up at him. Perhaps she was expecting him to deny it.
“Yeah, I love her. What’s it to ya?”
Toni beamed at his declaration while the other women teased him about his newly expressed feelings.
