Nice work if you could get it, and he could get it right now. He pulled her leg up and over his. In this position, he could ease the head of his cock into her. Stretched out this way, her passage was tighter than it had been the night before. Her wetness lubricated his way, though, as he pushed himself fully inside, one slow inch at a time.

  Once fully embedded, he paused to savor her heat and the way the walls of her pussy held him like a velvet fist. He could lose it on the spot. If he let his beast loose, he could take her fast and hard until he came. But why waste the next delicious moments by hurrying? Instead, he remained still but moved a hand back to her pelvis and located her clit.

  When he rubbed it, she had the same explosive reaction she had the night before. She did a full-bodied shimmy, and her voice rose on a high, loud note that told him he’d found The Right Spot. She’d climax soon. She’d give him what every man craved most from a woman—the unmistakable, physical proof that he could rock her world. And once he had that, he could take what he needed.

  And the kicker . . . the thing that put sex with a lover like Christie into its own category . . . was that he could do her the most good by doing exactly what his own libido was screaming for. Fuck her as if this was the last orgasm either of them would ever have.

  So he let her have it. While he kept toying with her clit, rolling it and tugging the way he knew she liked it, he thrust deep and hard. He no longer had any choice, anyway. His lust had taken control, his pelvis moving automatically to keep his cock sliding in and out of her pussy.

  “I’m going to come,” he said. Man, was he ever. The climax had built in his balls and now threatened to bust free. “Oh shit, you feel good.”

  “Don’t stop,” she cried.

  “Come with me. I want to feel it.”

  “Anything, just don’t stop!”

  He kept working her clit and fucking her like a wild man, clenching his teeth to hold on to the last thread of his control. He knew this woman now. She wouldn’t make him wait.

  Sure enough, a few more seconds playing her and thrusting into her and her body went rigid against his. The moan started in her chest and rose in pitch and volume until it was a shout. After a second, her convulsions burst over his cock, starting at the tip and radiating down to the base. That did him in. The tidal wave he’d been holding back washed over him, drowning him in pleasure so intense it blocked everything but the feel of her muscles on him and the stream of semen shooting out of him.

  When she’d drained him . . . again . . . he melted into a pile of useless muscle and bone against the carpet. Even though her sigh of satisfaction said her orgasm had ended, her pussy continued to flutter softly. Kind of a caress to his cock for a job well done. Damn him if he couldn’t stay inside her like this all day. Sadly, that wasn’t likely to happen.

  He covered one breast again, just to enjoy the fullness before the rest of the world intruded. “Kitten, you are something else.”

  “You did call me that.” She rolled over to face him, removing herself from his softening member. “I didn’t imagine it.”

  “Sex kitten.”

  She laughed. “Really?”

  “Pussy wouldn’t sound very romantic.”

  “Is that what we have going here?” she asked. “Romance?”

  “Maybe. Why not?” You didn’t normally describe a threesome that way, and the whole thing had started off as strictly physical. But you didn’t have sex the way the three of them had the night before without at least trust in the other two people. He loved Wolf like a brother, at least when he wasn’t acting like an asshole. He’d never thought he’d share a woman with Wolf, and he certainly hadn’t expected having the guy there would make the encounter so fucking exciting.

  “Somehow, you don’t strike me as the romantic type,” she said.

  “You’d be surprised.”

  “I’ll bet I know one thing you are.” She sat, pulling the sheet up to cover her breasts. “Hungry. I sure am.”

  “Good point. How about some breakfast?”

  “Already taken care of.” She gestured with her head toward the entrance to the kitchen.

  When Jon also sat and turned in that direction, he discovered Wolf headed toward them with a huge platter of what looked like scrambled eggs and home fries. A cloud of the aroma of bacon preceded him.

  Jon hadn’t had a thing to eat since dinner, and now his stomach rumbled with hunger. Given the ravenous expression on Christie’s face, she felt the same way. They’d had quite a workout, and that food looked mighty good.

  Wolf had put on some clothes. Not much, just shorts and a t-shirt. He sat cross-legged next to them, put the platter on the floor, and handed out forks and napkins. “Dig in.”

  Christie said nothing about communal eating but started stuffing her face and making noises of appreciation. Jon ate some potatoes and then took more.

  “Not half bad,” he mumbled around his food.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Wolf said. “Didn’t your mother teach you anything?”

  “Thanks, Miss Manners. I’ll remember that.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, picked up a piece of bacon, and held it to Christie’s mouth. It crunched when she bit down onto it. He couldn’t tear his gaze away as she ate it and then licked her lips.

  What an amazing plaything she was, full of little delights. You weren’t supposed to think of women that way, of course, and Jon usually didn’t. But Christie didn’t do things only because they pleased him, which suited him fine. She did whatever gave her pleasure and let him join the fun.

  “Are you listening to me?” Wolf said.

  “Nope,” he answered.

  Christie pushed his hand away from her mouth. “I am.”

  “We need to talk,” Wolf said.

  Oh, for crying out loud. “About what?”

  “What happened last night,” Wolf said.

  “What happened last night was a whole lot of fabulous sex,” he said. “Why do you have to analyze it?”

  “Because we’re all supposed to be in business together,” Wolf said. “Think with your head instead of your hormones for a minute.”

  “Oh, come on. This is the twenty-first century. Who cares what consenting adults do?” Jon said.

  “Christie ought to.” Wolf settled his assessing gaze on her. Jon often joked about Wolf’s analytical mind and how he seemed able to read the hidden motives of the people they did business with. Christie obviously felt it, too, because she hitched the sheet a bit higher up her chest in a defensive gesture. A pointless one, given the fact that she’d allowed both of them access to her breasts.

  “Our company knows where we are,” Wolf went on. “I’m sure Christie’s knows the same.”

  “Of course they do,” she said.

  “Three people alone at a resort on the beach with every luxury they could want,” Wolf said. “All three of them single. Young. Horny.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Jon said. “I don’t discuss my sex drives in the office.”

  Wolf laughed at that. Actually laughed. “Everyone knows your reputation.”

  “I don’t mess around with people I work with,” Jon said.

  “Well now you have,” Wolf said.

  Wolf had a point. The three of them sat there with the delicious breakfast getting cold between them. Though none of them would divulge any of the details of what they’d done, they wouldn’t have to. The rumors would fly—not just sex, but a threesome. They’d need to figure out how to deal with that.

  “Christie is trying to sell us something, namely this resort,” Wolf said finally. “Someone with a suspicious nature might wonder what she added to sweeten the pot.”

  Christie gaped at Wolf, and a flush covered her cheeks. “You think . . . that I . . .”

  Jon had a completely different reaction. His gut roiled. Wolf could be tough to deal with sometimes, but he’d never been cruel. And he’d never made a suggestion like that to a woman.

  “I think it’s about time I knocked your block off,” Jon said. “You take that back.”

  “I didn’t say I believed that.” Wolf glared at him. “I said other people might.”

  “I don’t give a shit what other people think. Christie wouldn’t do a thing like that.”

  Her eyes had narrowed after the shock wore off. “I certainly wouldn’t.”

  “Then why did you have sex with us?” Wolf asked evenly.

  She didn’t answer for a moment. You could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she searched for the right answer. After a while, she let out a breath and seemed to relax into what she was about say.

  “I wanted you,” she answered. “Both of you. At the same time, if I could manage.”

  Wolf’s shoulders eased down an inch or two. “An honest answer. The best there could be. Thanks.”

  Wolf may have liked what he heard, but Jon didn’t have to go along with the fact that his partner had questioned her motives to begin with. Besides, they hadn’t dealt with the issue of what other people would think.

  “So what are we going to tell people, Einstein?” he asked.

  “The truth. We were stranded. We spent the time checking out how the resort weathered a hurricane,” Wolf answered.

  “That’s exactly what I want to show you.” She perked up, giving them a smile he’d like to kiss right off her face. Instant aphrodisiac, their Christie—more potent than anything that came in a blue pill. After the night before and the fact that he’d just come inside her again, he shouldn’t be able to get it up so quickly. He could manage with her help, but his partner’s lack of interest could throw a wet blanket on that idea. Jon really needed to talk to Wolf about his attitude.

  Gathering the sheet around her, she rose. “I’m going to shower and dress. Then let’s check out how the Santa Inez Resort weathered old Fred.”

  She headed off, taking the sheet with her and leaving Jon uncovered. Wolf glanced at his pelvis. “You finally tamed the beast.”

  “Not a chance. He’s just resting.”

  “See if you can keep him that way for a few hours.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” Jon asked.

  “I’d like to check out the island, for one thing, but I think I’ll snoop around a little, too.”

  “You think too much.”

  “Maybe,” Wolf said. “But something still isn’t right here.”

  “ALL SYSTEMS GO,” Christie declared, unable to keep a smile of satisfaction—even triumph—off her face. Her baby . . . her project for the company and the love of her life for the past year . . . measured up in every way. Again, she sat on the terrace with the sea below her and the two sexiest men alive on either side, as she logged on to the Internet and went to news coverage of the wreckage Fred had left in his wake. Uprooted trees and damaged roofs. Thousands of people without power. As she’d guessed, the only traffic coming in or going out from the mainland came in the form of relief efforts. Here on Santa Inez, they had all the amenities a great resort offered and more. They had each other.

  “The generator can produce electricity for the essentials and a bit more. Plus we have the solar panels,” she said. “The water heater and stoves are propane. Except for loss of contact with the mainland, your guests wouldn’t feel any effects of the storm at all.”

  “I can get through to the office,” Jon announced, holding up his cell phone.

  “We put the tower on the top of a hill away from branches,” she said. “And we reinforced it.”

  “Hey, Howard, it’s Jon,” he said into the phone. “We’re fine. No, really, we hardly felt the hurricane at all.”

  Wolf’s hand brushed her shoulder. They’d all felt the storm, but not in the way anyone who hadn’t experienced the night before would think. They’d ridden it to sexual peaks she couldn’t have imagined a week earlier. The moonlight had been almost palpable on her breasts—a silent caress that heightened what these men had done to her. For her. They’d have a full moon again tonight, but it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing would ever be the same as that frantic and all-encompassing coupling.

  “Don’t know when we can get back,” Jon said. “Can you hold down the fort?”

  They all waited in silence for the answer to that.

  “Helicopter?” Jon said. Wolf’s fingertips dug into her flesh, and from the corner of her eye, she thought she saw him shake his head.

  “I don’t think the airport’s open,” Jon said into the phone. “You wouldn’t be able to rent a copter, anyway.”

  Christie held her breath while her heart thumped in her chest. Wolf had rejected the idea of an early rescue, and Jon had gone along. Unless this Howard person called back, they were here for the duration.

  She could have more of them . . . singly or together. She might just die of all the pleasure. Her pussy had felt achy from taking two such large cocks so many times in less than a day, and now her clit responded, too. She shifted in her chair, but that just amplified the feelings. She wouldn’t have to wait long to find herself hot and hungry all over again.

  “Probably a few more days,” Jon said. “I gotta tell you I’m in no rush. Santa Inez is everything they said it was.”

  “Great. You just gave away our bargaining position,” Wolf said.

  Jon ended the call and put his phone on the table. “You know we’re going to sign the contract with this place.”

  “Not for the wrong reasons,” Christie said. “What happens between us as lovers stays between us.”

  “And we leave it on this island,” Wolf said.

  He only voiced what they all knew, even if she hadn’t taken the time to process it yet. A threesome didn’t have any kind of future, especially one where members dropped everything and flew all over the world for business. They couldn’t get married and raise children, and despite the fact that they’d been breezy and free with each other, they’d all want a home and a family someday. Still, they couldn’t get bogged down on what could or couldn’t happen in their lives. They had this short time in this magnificent place to make memories that would warm them in private moments for the rest of their lives.

  This affair or dalliance or whatever the hell it was would have to end. They needed to make the most of the time they had together.

  “So what’s on the menu for tonight?” she asked.

  “I’ll root around in the freezer to see what I can find,” Jon said.

  “No need. I have the marinara simmering as we speak,” Wolf asked.

  “Your Sicilian nonna’s recipe, I suppose?” Jon said.

  “I can cook Italian. I’d make the pasta myself if we had a roller,” Wolf said.

  “Don’t believe him, Christie. He’s no more Italian than I am.”

  Wolf leaned over her to stick his nose into his partner’s face. “Okay, just because you have to be such an idiot, I’ll prove it.”

  “By making pasta,” Jon said.

  “You want fettuccine or pappardelle, pal?”

  “I’m willing to bet you can’t make either,” Jon said.

  Bet! The words came back to her from the night before. The two of them had so scrambled her brain with all those orgasms, she’d nearly forgotten. They’d had some kind of bet for her.

  “You’re on,” Wolf said. “Name the prize.”

  Jon glanced at her and lifted one eyebrow. “You willing, Christie?”

  “I think I could be.”

  “All right, if you make anything resembling a noodle we can eat, you win. If not, I do.”

  “Winner gets Christie,” Wolf said. “Loser has to watch.”

  Chapter Five

  THE FACT THAT Wolf could make pasta became immediately obvious, not that Christie gave a damn which one of them won this bet or that other one, for that matter—whatever it had been. Watching Wolf work was a lesson in sensuality in itself. The muscles of his arms and shoulders bunched and released as he made pass after pass with the rolling pin on the butcher-block table in the huge kitchen. The dough he’d made out of flour, egg, and a little salt and water grew thinner and thinner as he worked.

  Jon stood off to one side, resting against a counter, his expression giving nothing away. In the time the two of them had been partners, he must have lost some bets and won others. Losing this one couldn’t bother him too much because he’d already made love to her once that day.

  Wolf, on the other hand, was celebrating, humming “O Sole Mio” as he worked. He stopped long enough to study the huge sheet of pasta he’d made. Lifting a corner, he studied the thickness. “Fettuccini with the marinara, I think.”

  “You can stop rubbing it in,” Jon said. “You’ve won.”

  “Not until it’s noodles, I haven’t.”

  “Why don’t you two go at it for a while, and then we can move on to something more interesting?” Jon said.

  “Sore loser,” Wolf said. “I never rush sex.”

  “Ever?” Joe said. “You’ve never in your life had a quickie?”

  “Not when I can draw it out and make you watch.” Chuckling, Wolf rolled up the sheet of dough and sliced through it several times with a chef’s knife. When he unfurled it again, he had long ribbons of perfect fettuccine, which he scooped up into small piles. That done, he turned, clapping his hands together to rid them of flour. “So, Christie. My prize—what’ll it be?”

  Suddenly, the full implications of what she’d agreed to registered. She was going to have sex with this man while another one looked on. Not in some magical world where the rage of a storm gave way to the hush of moonlight. In the full light of day in a kitchen, of all places, she was going to take off enough clothes to at least expose her pussy and let him screw her until one or both of them came. Jon would watch the whole time, fully clothed.