By the Book Page 6

  The corner of Daniel’s mouth pulled back in amusement. He knew what I was thinking. His smirk, his dimple told me so. “Are you uncomfortable because I kissed Georgia, and did so in front of you?”

  I rolled my shoulders. Considered backing away, but I’d only come into contact with the front door and there would be no escape from Daniel Cross. As if I wanted it. But at least the door would hold me up. “You know I’m not,” I blurted out.

  “But you’re her boyfriend.” He inclined his head slightly, insinuating himself into my line of sight. “One might think I’d overstepped the mark.”

  “I don’t think she minded.”

  “And you?”

  “I—” Breath caught in my throat when Daniel licked his lips, and he laughed. He’d made me falter, he’d noticed, and the scoreboard tilted in his favor. “I’ve seen her do a lot more than that with other…people.”

  “Women?” Daniel waggled his eyebrows. “Men?” And his expression drained of all humor. “I don’t think I’m entirely wrong in this observation, but there’s been what you could call an undercurrent this evening, hasn’t there?”

  “Oh?” I gulped back air that did nothing to ease the ache in my chest, the tightness, the near suffocation. “Has there?”

  “I’m a writer. I’ve trained myself to notice these things.” Daniel lifted his hand, and I flinched. He lowered it again, frowning. “Let me put something to you.”

  Cool relief washed through me. I would not be the one to risk embarrassment by raising the subject. Daniel Cross, the mind reader, would take the first step. He knew what I was thinking. Had to.

  “Let me suggest…” He leaned in close to whisper in my ear, and the part of me that wanted him still closer fought to suppress a shudder. Any movement on my part would either drive him away or force contact, and I wasn’t sure which frightened me more. “Let me tell you what I think is going on here.”

  “Okay.” I could have put my hand on his waist without stretching my arm. He was there, only inches away. Within reach.

  “I think Georgia wants me.” Daniel’s breath whispered across my cheek, and I nearly turned. Wanted to. “I also think you’re okay with that. I know you’re an adventurous couple.”

  “We like to mix things up.”

  “Would that include turnabout for your birthday present?”

  “It”—I turned my head by the slightest of angles—“might.”

  “Hmm.” Daniel quirked an eyebrow and looked me in the eye. God alone knew how I managed to meet his gaze. “Interesting.” He paused. “Given that I’m a slut.”

  “Daniel.” I said nothing further until he’d lifted his head, keeping his gaze on me. Denim brushed against denim and leather protested as he moved. “You insult yourself.”

  “I speak the truth,” he murmured.

  I wondered if that was his seduction voice. Knew he didn’t need one. Daniel Cross himself was enough. And maybe, maybe if I tried hard enough, I could convince myself I was so fucking hard because Georgia was feet away and not because Daniel was right. Here.

  His breath warmed the skin of my neck, and for a moment I considered all possible reactions to his kiss.

  A kiss that never came.

  Instead he spoke. “I want to fuck your girlfriend,” he whispered, and such a blatant, ungentlemanly, sluttish wish made me harder still. “And I want you to watch me do it.”

  Oh God, Daniel, don’t say any more. Don’t. I’ll come right here and now if you—

  “Reece?” He stood so close he’d be able to feel my cock straining against my jeans if he moved just so.

  I slowly, slowly, slowly exhaled.

  “You didn’t say no.”

  My lips twisted into a half smile. “Who could say no to you, Daniel Cross?”

  “Ah.” A brief nod of acknowledgment and agreement. “Now I think we’re on exactly the same page, Reece Hutton.”

  Chapter Five

  How many times I read Daniel’s text message on D-day I couldn’t count, but I clung to those three words until they became a mantra, a prayer, a supplication: See you tonight.

  When the intercom buzzed, Georgia and I already stood in my hall, leaning against opposite walls with our arms crossed, staring at each other. My place, because it was as near to “neutral territory” as we could manage. We jumped, and I started for the handset, saying, “Maybe I should…?”

  “Yeah. You get it.”

  “Hello?” Why so formal, Reece? You know it’s him.

  “Why good evening, Mr. Hutton. It’s your friendly neighborhood pervert here, come to join you for an hour or five of eye-watering filth, if you please.”

  Whether it was humor or nerves that made me do it, I laughed as I pressed the Enter button and hung up. Way to break the ice, Cross.

  “What did he say?” Georgia laid her hand on my shoulder, slid the other round my waist. “Was that him?”

  “Yep.”

  Her slowly released breath chilled the back of my neck, and I shivered.

  “It’s really happening,” she said.

  “Looks like it.”

  “Are you sure about this?”

  I turned my head, though couldn’t quite look her in the eye. “You’d do the same for me.” I smiled. “I know you would.”

  “And it’s not even my birthday.”

  “Call it an early Christmas.”

  “You’d better get the door.”

  I unlocked it, waited for Daniel to reach the top of the stairwell, clasping Georgia’s hand behind my back for reassurance that she was still there. Neither of us trembled as far as I could tell, but as soon as Daniel rounded the flight of stairs and appeared on the landing, my heart jumped, my hand in Georgia’s flinched, and I let her go.

  “Hey,” I said. Wondered what the procedure was for this sort of thing. Not that Georgia and I were complete innocents, but previously we’d brought in friends. People we’d known for a while.

  Not folks we’d known a relatively short period of time.

  But, I figured with a mental shrug, that in itself was a bit of a risk. Sure, you needed to feel at ease with the person to get naked in front of them, but say it went horribly wrong? You’ve ruined a friendship for the sake of a one-night stand.

  At least here, now, with Daniel, there was no long-standing friendship to sabotage.

  It had come to this. The question of whether or not to shake his hand, offer the rife-with-double entendre thanks for coming.

  “Here. I brought some lubricant,” Daniel said, holding up a bottle of wine, laughing at what must have been my expression of surprise. “Just to loosen us up a bit.” He passed me the bottle and slipped an arm round Georgia’s waist. “Hello again.”

  Her brows lifted, the corner of her mouth twitching, threatening a smile.

  A smile Daniel cut off in its prime when he dipped his head to kiss her.

  She stiffened initially, and I nearly dropped the bottle, cradling it with my free hand as the other gripped the neck.

  Just a second later, her tense muscles relaxed and she melted against him.

  His other hand crept up to cup her face, and I wondered if he was considering tangling his fingers in her hair, something she loved, especially when I gave it a gentle tug, just to remind her I am here.

  But that kiss. It wasn’t me. I stood by, watching Daniel’s cheeks hollow in that way that told me he’d deepened the kiss and Georgia had let him.

  Even after breaking off the kiss, he kept his face close to hers, only a breath away, smiling. He kissed her again, lightly, on the lips, and lifted his head.

  To look at me.

  Smirking.

  And the quirk of his eyebrows, the dimple in his cheek, the twinkle in his guylinered eyes all conspired to give him the air of a man who just did not give a shit because he knew what he was made of.

  “Someone started early,” I said, gesturing with the unopened bottle, assuming he’d had a beer or two before coming over.

  “Not a
t all.” He straightened but kept that one arm around Georgia’s waist. She’s mine too now. “I’m stone-cold sober.” We’ll share. “And I thought it was a pretty good way of breaking the ice.” Now I’ve put my mark on her.

  “I’ll go open this.” I took a step nearer the kitchen, but he stopped me with one word and a hand on my arm.

  “Wait.” He paused while he bit his lip, and something told me his hesitancy was a facade. “Aren’t you gonna kiss me too?”

  I flinched, gasped quietly, and he laughed, showing pearly white teeth and a devilish glint in his eyes. Again.

  There was a moment, the merest sliver of time, pregnant with the opportunity to ask did you mean that before someone took a breath, someone moved, someone shook their head and the window of opportunity closed.

  “Wine it is, then,” Daniel said.

  I stepped into the kitchen alone, but they soon followed me, which made sense. No need for me to leave them in the hallway to get to know each other. We were all in this together, for the three of us to…

  Well, not for Daniel and me, but that was the only pairing not on the menu.

  “I wouldn’t have minded if you’d kissed him, you know,” Georgia said, and I looked over my shoulder before uncorking the bottle, expecting her to wink at me, but no. Daniel was the focus of her attention. “I wouldn’t have minded at all.”

  Ah. Apparently menus can change, then.

  And just before I turned back to the wine, I caught the smirk on his face.

  “I rather think Reece would have a say in that, don’t you?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but Georgia beat me to it. “He wouldn’t mind either, would you, Reece?”

  I shrugged. No point in contradicting her when she was in this sort of mood. Though the subject matter unsettled me, it was Georgia who spoke, so she got a free pass.

  “After all, he said tonight was my night and I could have anything I wanted.”

  “So it is,” Daniel told her, winking at me when I handed him a glass. “And so you shall.” Pause. “That is, of course, providing Reece doesn’t feel uncomfortable.”

  Turning away to pour another glass, I wondered if my face was as red as the wine we were about to drink. “Here,” I said, handing Georgia her drink, sipping my own and unable to resist a peek at Daniel over the rim of my glass.

  He laughed, clearly one hell of a lot more comfortable with this line of conversation than I was.

  “No point being nervous about this, is there?” he asked. “I mean, we’re all adults. We all know what we’re doing, I presume?”

  Sometimes I wonder, I wanted to say out loud.

  We were all here for the same purpose, knew what was going to happen. But that was later; this was now. How to get from here to there presented a minor dilemma. It needed one of us to take that step, to announce with body language subtle enough to still be dignified that it’s on.

  We lingered in the kitchen, making small talk, drinking wine, making no move to seat ourselves in the living room and relax, nor to adopt the bedroom as a backdrop for…whatever.

  Soon our three glasses were empty, and none of us suggested a refill. It was just a matter of time.

  “There’s something you two ought to know about me,” Daniel said, setting his glass on the countertop alongside mine and Georgia’s.

  “Now you tell us,” she said, frowning.

  I hoped it was nothing serious, suspected it wasn’t. Though we’d only known Daniel a short period of time, we—at least I—trusted him, which was just as well given what we were about to do. We were all sexually adventurous, that much was plain, but we—again, at least I—felt at ease with him, beyond the level of comfort needed for this evening’s proceedings to occur.

  “Don’t worry; it’s nothing bad. Just a surprise.” Daniel winked. “I should hang my jacket up. Back in a sec.”

  He exited, and for the few seconds he was in the hall, Georgia and I looked at each other, shrugged, both frowning.

  “Honestly, the pair of you look so worried.” He laughed on his return, now jacketless. “This is just me doing some showing off.” He pulled the waistband of his shirt up and over his head in seconds.

  Obviously has experience undressing in a hurry.

  “Jesus, Daniel; we’re not even in the bedroom yet.” Georgia laughed, not in the least shocked although pleasantly surprised, judging by the shine in her eyes.

  “I’m assuming that room’s for subdued lighting or darkness.” Daniel winked, shameless about being the center of attention. “And you need to see this when the light’s good.” He tossed his shirt onto the countertop, doing nothing to hide his bare skin. A man who was brazen enough to rip his own shirt off in front of a couple he was about to go to bed with would have no reason to cover himself, of course.

  I’d seen bare male torsos before on numerous occasions—mostly hot summer days during games of football in the park—but this situation was unique to say the least.

  He turned his back, drawing audible gasps from me and Georgia.

  “Jesus Christ.” Georgia’s soft voice articulated what I couldn’t, staring in mute amazement at the most elaborate tattoo I’d ever seen, covering most of Daniel’s back.

  He turned his head to the side, not looking at us, but paying closer attention to our surprise and, yes, admiration, even if in my case it could only be expressed in silence.

  “That is some ink you’ve got there.” Georgia’s words emerged in a gasp of admiration, and I could only agree with a slow nod. “That must have taken a lot of work.”

  “Yeah.” From here, at this angle, Daniel’s cheeky grin was clearly visible. But it only distracted me for a second, and his tattoo drew me again.

  Two wings inked in incredible detail with trompe l’oeil feathers layered his shoulder blades and trailed to the small of his back. Folded angel’s wings threatened to unfurl with each twitch of his shoulder blades. The colors were subtle: just enough pale blue at the ends of some feathers to make them look snow-white, enough yellow here and there to give the appearance of light refraction.

  “Daniel Cross, only here to show off.” He stayed still. Everything about him screamed cocky little shit; he knew his tattoo would have such an impact the first time we saw it.

  “Hell, I would if I had a tattoo like that,” Georgia murmured, nearing him to touch his bare skin.

  He shivered—or perhaps it was a shudder—when she laid her palms against him.

  “Sorry; are you ticklish?”

  “No, no, touch me all you like, gorgeous,” Daniel said, punctuating his words with a quiet laugh. Twisting his neck even more, he looked me up and down, adding, “You don’t mind, do you, Reece?”

  Wondering if I was more drawn by the sight of his ink or my girlfriend touching his ink, I took a deep breath, willed myself to speak. “No. Not at all.”

  And I didn’t. And I wanted a piece of this. I wanted the games to begin. “That’s what we’re all here for, isn’t it?” I asked, and the room was silent. Not an oppressive silence, but one gravid with promise. All it would take was one word, a few words, a look, one move.

  Georgia ran a hand over one of Daniel’s shoulder blades. Her other came to rest on his hip, and for a moment her mouth was so close to his skin I thought she was about to kiss him, but instead she spoke. “I think we should take this into the bedroom.”

  Still touching Daniel, she looked back at me, the corners of her mouth lifting, a near-imperceptible accent to the lust in her eyes.

  * * *

  Daniel stopped after crossing the threshold to a bedroom that wasn’t his, looked back over his shoulder—dear God, what shoulders—and silently inquired of either Georgia or myself.

  Not that his reticence was born of uncertainty. Given his cocky nature, his ink, the fact that he wore makeup, he wasn’t shy. Neither was he impolite, and that was why he hesitated. Your bedroom, your rules, his pause said.

  Georgia’s hand was still on him when he reached the bed, but th
ere would have been something wrong in him lying down first. Though the lamplight was dim, I still saw a chivalric ladies first in his raised eyebrows, the hand lifting hers from his back and gesturing toward the bed.

  Every piece of clothing removed was preceded by a hitched breath, a shudder, a murmur from one of us. Every time Daniel or I moved, the other took his place, making sure that though Georgia sped toward nudity, she was never untouched by at least one of our hands and, more often than not, a mouth.

  I knew where she liked to be kissed; familiarity made me more confident than Daniel Cross for once in my life. His kisses were hesitant and experimental, his touches laden with trepidation and an unspoken is this all right?

  He and I danced around each other, coordinated in our attention to Georgia—you undo the buttons on her blouse; I’ll see to her skirt—though we avoided eye contact. Some diabolical sense of timing meant we worked together though apart, divided by the woman who united us.

  Every time he touched her, combing his fingers through her hair, leaning in for a kiss, stroking his hand down her exposed abdomen, Georgia shuddered. And because we were so close as I spooned her, the pair of us curved like lazy commas against Daniel’s exclamation mark, I shuddered too. The nanosecond’s time delay felt like no delay at all. And that temporal nothing meant Daniel may as well have been touching me for the way I reacted to what he did to her.

  It was an ordinary mattress, no waterbed, but we drifted, killing time that couldn’t touch us. Daniel’s hands and mouth strayed no farther south than Georgia’s waist. His territory claimed, he left me to hold her hips steady against my hardening cock, straining through my jeans, which I only kept on through a childish sense of you first, you first, you first.

  We cast little more than tentative glances each other’s way—if I kiss her here, you touch her there—and had said next to nothing since entering the bedroom, at least to each other. Daniel murmured as he kissed her, brushing the hair off her face with one hand, tracing the unseen ley lines of her body with the other. I didn’t catch all of what he said, but what I did hear were requests for reassurance. He had the uncertainty of a first-time lover, of one who knew others had enjoyed what he did, but they were them and Georgia was uncharted territory. Undiscovered. Virgin, in the most incorrect sense of the word.