Naughty Wishes Part II Read online

  Chris leaned on the edger. His gaze was on the aviary. Harry was preening his feathers while Hermione hopped from branch to branch. Ron was doing the same, chasing her, a game that couldn't help but make Sam smile a little.

  Harry was a mockingbird with a crooked right wing; Hermione, a dove with a missing right eye and left foot. Ron, a glossy brown bird twice their size, liked to perch in the center of the aviary as he clacked and fluffed his wings.

  Nothing was wrong with Ron. He'd been dumped out of a nest as a baby when his tree was cut down, and Chris had handfed him until he was strong enough to forage for himself. However, he'd formed an attachment to the aviary and to Harry and Hermione, and kept coming back. Chris still let him out several times a week, to make sure he hadn't changed his mind. So far he hadn't. At night, the three of them roosted together, three unlikely friends who would have merely tolerated one another in the wild. But different circumstances had called for a redrawing of boundaries. Ron had found something with Harry and Hermione he couldn't find out in the great big world.

  She knew how he felt.

  "I thought you guys would wait for me."

  Her gaze snapped back to Chris. The careful neutrality of his quiet tone concealed as much as it revealed.

  "It's not like that." She didn't think so. "I wanted something to happen after the visit to Naughty Bits, and it didn't. It felt like I needed to try something else."

  "We went there less than a couple of weeks ago, Sam." His gaze shifted to hers, sparked. "You say it's the three of us, but you two didn't seem to think I needed to be a part of it. Maybe I've thought a bunch of shit about this, too. Maybe I hoped, the first time, it would be the three of us."

  Guilt swamped her, taking her breath away. Knowing that he'd imagined things as she had, perhaps in just as much detail, was a hard thing to hear. She'd thought he was simply avoiding or preventing it for the same reasons as Geoff, and maybe that was true. But it didn't change the fact that her impatience had taken an opportunity away from him. She tried to push past that and think about why she'd done it. It hadn't just been hormones. She needed to grasp the potential of what was, rather than what should have been.

  "It felt like it needed to be in bite-sized pieces," she said. "Do you know how this will impact your relationship with Geoff? Do you want a Dom, Chris?"

  She hadn't been sure if Chris knew about that part of Geoff, but it wasn't a surprise to her to see the tightening of the mouth that told her he did. "Do you want to submit to him? Is this two straight guys wanting to share a girl, or two semistraight guys who are kind of interested in each other as well?"

  She was curious about the answer to that herself, since she had her own theories. He looked away, not answering, and she rose, closing her hand over his where it gripped the wooden handle. "See? The one thing I figured you both understood was how you feel about me. Girl parts and stuff, those things are good. Right?"

  His lips tugged at the corners, and she stroked his fingers. "I don't know if you have the same . . . urges toward me that Geoff does, or if you're a different animal, but I know you want me. Or you did."

  When he shifted his hand out of reach and didn't respond to that, still not looking at her, she did her best to mask another sharp pain. She'd thought long and hard about what Geoff had said, about following her heart on this. The way he'd said it, that look he'd given her, had pinged something inside her. It was like her submissive side had an under layer she could only access by feeling, not thinking. So though she couldn't put into words what he'd meant, she felt his intent. And decided to act on it.

  "Do you know what Geoff asked me? Whether it would turn me on, you punishing me while he watched. Spanking me . . . Well, he said you might cut a switch in the yard . . ."

  "I'm not like that. That's not my thing." He said it so brusquely, she swallowed her words midsentence. Wrong tactic, and he'd shut her down sharply enough she wasn't sure where else to go with it. Geoff was right. Maybe she needed to leave this alone.

  "Okay. Well, I'll go inside and change into some work clothes so I can help you with this."

  "I don't want your help right now, Sam." He tossed the edger aside and picked up the shovel. As he straightened, he pushed several unruly locks of brown hair out of his eyes. "I get it, all right? You feel bad and you want to make me feel better about things so you don't have to feel so bad about it."

  She set her jaw. "Maybe I'm sorry and want to make you feel better because you're my friend."

  "Friend? Yeah. Great."

  Damn it, she was going to take the shovel and brain him with it. Instead she stepped closer. "Don't back away from me," she said ominously as he looked like he was going to shrug her off. She put her hands at his waist, her fingers curling in the fabric belt of the camos, knuckles pressed against the impressive muscle groups at his abdomen and hips. He stood rigid as she looked up at him.

  "I get it," she said quietly. "We should have waited. But I didn't want to wait anymore, Chris. Whether or not you want to hear it, I felt like I had to get Geoff on board first, because he's . . . what he is. You may be that, or something else I don't yet understand, but we both know what he is, right?"

  Chris lifted an irritated shoulder, and she reached up to his face. He clasped her wrist, stopping her. "I don't want this right now," he said, though his grip and the look in her eye told her otherwise. "Just . . . I don't want to be harsh, Sam, but I really need you to leave me the hell alone. Okay? You can't fix this."

  She tried to push the ache in her throat back, to stop it from happening, but damn if tears didn't well up. She should turn around, march back into the house, but a promise was a promise. "I told Geoff I would do this if . . . I just told him I'd do it."

  Taking a breath, she turned away from him. Since where Geoff had written between her shoulder blades necessitated taking her T-shirt off to reveal it, she did. She hadn't worn a bra, because she didn't know if it would obscure what he wrote. The aviary screened her from the neighboring house she faced, and they had woods behind them, their house on her right. Even so, she heard Chris mutter a "Jeez, Sam . . ." but then he fell silent.

  She stood there for interminable minutes, waiting. She watched the birds in the aviary, felt the sun on her shoulders, the light flirt of the wind that tightened her nipples and skittered across her skin. If Chris told her to go away once more, she would bolt. She could only handle so much rejection at once. Maybe that was what Geoff had meant about her not trying to fix things. Probably exactly what he'd meant.

  Geoff really had looked like he was a breath away from taking her decision to stay at the house out of her hands, by physical intimidation if necessary. Ninety percent of the time, Geoff and Chris were as enlightened about women as she could wish, but when their protective instincts were goaded, they reverted to the behavior of men two or three centuries ago. Honorable men, but it could frustrate her, as it would any woman with a brain. On the flip side, sometimes that aspect of their personalities made emotions and needs well up in her she couldn't explain. She wanted to be as protective of them as they were of her.

  She should leave Chris alone, but she couldn't. He was hurting, and she couldn't be okay with that. Not for another minute.

  She quivered as his fingers whispered over her bare shoulder, then slid down. It felt like he was tracing the words. "What does it say?"

  "None of your business."

  Coming from Chris, it was an unexpected response, but his tone was mild, his touch a quest, exploring her as much as outlining what Geoff had written on her. She closed her eyes to better absorb the sensation. Up and down, in looping circles between her shoulder blades, then down along her spine to her jeans, finger sliding along her waistband. Back up again. Her nipples now had another reason for tightening, because the more he touched her, the more she wanted to be touched by him.

  "Don't talk, Sam. Close your eyes."

  She already had them closed, but she'd parted her lips to say something, she wasn't sure what. Since
her back was to him, she wasn't sure how he'd known she was about to speak, unless her shoulders lifted from the preparatory breath. If so, it proved how closely he was studying every inch of her, which overwhelmed her enough to keep her silent even without the command. A tremor ran through the fingers she curled uncertainly at her sides.

  He turned her around to face him. His body was wide enough to block the neighbors' view. He'd make sure of it. She trusted him to do that. Thinking of what Geoff had said about how he felt when he looked at her fully naked, how it would be the same for Chris, she wished she weren't wearing her jeans and sneakers. She wanted to stand before Chris that way again.

  His hair brushed her brow, and she realized he'd leaned in toward her. His lips, warm and firm, came against hers, and she sighed in delight at the unexpected contact. He slid his big hands along her bare waist, drawing her in until she was pressed against him and he was tasting her, tracing her lips, touching her tongue with his. When she emitted a needy little moan, her fists now tight balls to keep her from climbing up and into him for more, he broke. Crushing her against him, he delved deep into her mouth, his other hand coming up to twist in her hair, hold her fast as he gave her his anger and frustration, his lust and even deeper emotions, the most important ones. Her hands opened, slid up to his shoulders and clung. She couldn't imagine comparing Chris and Geoff's kisses and rating one over the other. It was the mountain and the lightning, both bringing something incomparable to the mix.

  Her breasts were pressed against his chest, against the rough layer of hair there, the damp sweat and dirt, but she didn't care about those. It was Chris. She melted into him, held up by the strength of his arms, overwhelmed by the harsh male need in the kiss. When he finally broke it, her heart was pounding crazily, whirling butterflies in her stomach.

  "He had me thinking about it. Or you did." As he lifted his head, his accusing look had a glimmer of raw humor in it. It eased some of her tension.

  "About what?"

  "About spanking you to feel better."

  "Is that what he wrote?"

  "No. And don't ask me to tell you what he did." He framed her face, thumbs on her lips, his eyes roving over her face. She was still trembling and he noticed, his hands beginning to slide away. She grabbed his wrists.

  "Please don't stop."

  "You're cold. I'm getting your shirt."

  "I'm not cold."

  His eyes came back to her face. He left one hand on her cheek, but he bent and picked up the shirt. Putting it back on her, he guided her hands to the sleeves. There were plenty of incidental touches as he did it, steadying her as she found the armholes. When he pulled the T-shirt back down over her body and smoothed it, he molded his hands over her taut nipples so her small curves pressed into his palms. He didn't pause there, but he didn't rush it, either. At her waist, he curled his fingers in her belt loops, holding her.

  "It's time for you to go inside, Sam. Really. Let me think things through, all right?" He lifted one hand and touched her cheek. "I'm getting you dirty. Smudges on your face."

  "That's okay." She wanted to say she was sorry, but she couldn't truly be sorry for a minute of what had happened with Geoff. She tried for the next best thing. "Can I make you some lunch? I picked up some Boar's Head at the grocery and that fresh sourdough bread you like. I could make you one of my world-class sandwiches. There are fresh tomatoes and kettle chips."

  His eyebrows, thickets of copper and brown hairs, lifted now. "You think food will help?"

  "My mother told me that when it comes to men, food always helps."

  "I am hungry."

  "When are you not?" She smiled, but when he managed only a halfhearted smile in return, she pushed past his defenses and wrapped her arms around his waist, putting her cheek on his broad chest. "I love you, you know that, right? I'm in love with you. With both of you."

  His hands had tightened on her shoulders, maybe to ease her back, but at that, they stopped, got even tighter. He muttered an oath. "It doesn't work that way."

  "Yeah, it does. It does for us." She slipped away and moved toward the house, forcing herself not to look back. She'd done what she could . . . without fixing anything.

  Once inside, she remembered what Geoff had said about what he'd written on her back. Until after he sees it. She hurried to the bathroom. The smudges Chris had left on her cheeks made her smile. Pulling the shirt off her arms again, she let it collar her neck so she could twist around and see the reflection in the mirror. A smile spread across her face as she read the words backward.

  She's ours, dumbass. Kiss her, and you'll see. I dare you.

  Chris might have told her to leave him alone for now, but something in his eyes said he might not want to be left alone indefinitely. There were overlapping qualities to Chris and Geoff, things that complemented each other as well as her own needs. But they were also very different men.

  When she brought him his sandwich, she forced herself to go back inside, but she watched through the window as he sat on the concrete bench by the aviary and ate. If Geoff was eating, he was multitasking; reading, watching TV or typing on his laptop. Whereas Chris gave his full attention to digestion, chewing slowly, his gaze following what the birds were doing in the aviary, or the movement of the clouds overhead. He had a tendency to stretch out right after a meal and take a fifteen-minute nap, which he did today.

  Lying back on the stone bench, one work shoe braced on the ground, the other on the bench, he bent his arm over his face to shade his eyes as he closed them. She drew her feet up on the window seat, linking her arms around her knees as she watched him. His other hand curled in a relaxed position on his stomach, the breeze riffling his dark brown hair across his brow. His skin was tan even in winter, because his job had baked it into his flesh. The sun never disappeared for long in North Carolina.

  He always had a scattering of cuts and scrapes, because pruning back overgrown holly bushes or pulling weeds and maintaining equipment with his bare hands would leave marks. She'd given him some vegetarian ingredient udder balm ointment, informing him it was what farmers and other laborers used to keep their hands healthy. He'd finally started using it, so the cuts healed more quickly, though a few were deep enough the scars remained.

  Simple things, simple thoughts. She should get up and do something. She had some bills to pay, a book to read, a tear in a pair of slacks that needed mending. But she usually did that kind of thing near Chris when he was home. She did that because she loved his company, not because she had to do so. She was a well-rounded person. She had her yoga and took classes and workshops to expand her mind. Since she'd been living with Chris and Geoff, those educational experiences had covered everything from stained glass creation to using essential oils for better health. She went out with Flo and other friends. She wasn't dependent on Chris or Geoff's presence to entertain herself.

  But today she was like Chris. She only wanted to focus on one thing. Only wanted to do one thing. Suppressing a tight smile at the double entendre, she rose. She'd go get the slacks and mend them by the window.

  When she returned, he'd woken from his nap and was working in the yard again. She mended the slacks, read her book and did her bills, all where she could watch him. She ventured out a couple of times to bring him more water and snacks and retrieve the sandwich plate. She'd hoped their short interlude might have eased his mind, yet he was still working at a much more grueling pace than he usually set for himself.

  He'd used the dirt from the pond hole to create a berm by their small vegetable garden. At the base he'd inserted several cinder blocks so they looked like the openings to small caves. When she bent to examine them, she saw he'd sealed the back openings so the square spaces would remain dirt free.

  She liked frog houses and had talked about creating a fairy garden. He'd told her about a month ago he'd build her a berm under the sheltered canopy of one of the older trees that would accommodate both. Once he had that set up, she could start designing it how she liked
.

  She straightened to see him watching her, but as she started to smile and say how she liked the results of his work, he put his head down and went back to it. Trying to ignore the painful twist of reaction in her chest, she made herself go back into the house. Left him to his thinking.

  She'd had several texts from Geoff through the day, checking in with her. He must be busy, because they were short things. Raspberry-blowing emoticons, and aliens with antennae zooming across the screen. However, as if he could sense her mounting frustration--or maybe he'd finally had a lull in his work--the one she found on her phone now included words.

  How's it going, Miss Fix-It?

  Narrowing her eyes, she punched in a response. Middle East peace, lower cable bills and which came first, the chicken or the egg, all solved. She paused. He looked at my back and kissed me. But that's all.

  Her phone chirped again. So which was it, chicken or egg?

  She shook her head. Chicken. Can't have an egg without having a chicken first.

  Just like you can't get to the finish line unless you run the course. Don't worry. Be home soon, I hope.

  She sent back a couple of Xs and Os to that, and put her phone on the counter. Okay, what pointless thing could she do next so she wouldn't lose her mind? She could have gone out for a couple of hours, but she was determined to be here when Chris came back into the house. She was certain if she left, he'd take that opportunity to duck in, take a shower and disappear into his room. She wanted to respect his alone time, but she refused to be avoided.