I take him deeper and he fucks my mouth mercilessly, till his groans get longer, telling me he’s close.

  I steal a glance at my dog, and the perv is staring up at Chase like he’s tapping an annoyed paw and saying can you move it along.

  But that’s better than trying to hump Chase’s leg while I finish him. I give a deep suck, then Chase floods my throat with a strangled grunt.

  And I spoke too soon.

  My randy dog has wrapped his arms around Chase’s calf and is doing the doggy dance. I swat my dog away as Chase eases out of my mouth with a laugh.

  I jerk my gaze to the dog. “Couch. Now. Go sit.”

  Like he wasn’t the paragon of perv, Nacho trots away, tail wagging.

  Once my pooch is curled up on the couch, Chase looks down at me with a sexy smirk. “Your multitasking with simultaneous dog training and BJ finishing deserves a reward.”

  “A peanut butter biscuit?”

  “Better,” he says, then hauls me up, spins me around, and pushes me against the door. He yanks up my sundress, tugs down my panties, and squeezes my ass.

  “I bet more spanking is on your list after the other night,” he says huskily.

  I shiver. “It is.”

  He kneads my right cheek, soft, gentle, a little tantalizing, before he lifts a hand and smacks.

  I gasp. Then I moan when he rubs his palm over me tenderly again, smoothing out the sting. He does the same to my other cheek, and when he raises his hand again, I tense but with delicious anticipation. His palm comes down harder this time. I moan again.

  “Remember when you said you just had unreasonable expectations in bed?” he whispers in my ear. “The night we met you?”

  “Yes.”

  He brushes his lips across my ear. “You should have unreasonable expectations. So we can exceed every single one of them.”

  God. Yes. “News flash. You are. Oh, and I learned I like spanking.”

  Yup. That’s another kink I’ll toss into my big box of bedroom quirks. I’m gonna need a bigger boat for my fantasies.

  “Good,” he says, then squeezes my ass again. “Mmm. This ass. I want to play with it, Trina.”

  He hasn’t even seen my note yet, but he’s clearly eager for number four. Me too, since the only way I’ll be able to climb the double dick mountain is with a little booty action beforehand. Hence, number four—butt play.

  “You should then. Soon,” I say, encouraging him.

  “The things we’ll do to you next time,” he says, and I love that we. Love that he talks dirty to me about their plans for me as he plays with my clit while smacking my ass, then pinching my nipples till I’m melting and breaking apart before work.

  I’m still gasping for air when he brushes a tender kiss to my lips. “Love your ground rules. Make sure to take care of my buddy sometime too,” he says.

  “You looking out for your friend’s dick?”

  “I’m thoughtful like that.”

  You know, he really is. And since he mentions Ryker, that reminds me. “There’s something you can help me with for Ryker.”

  “Name it,” Chase says.

  I tell him what I need. “Can you send it sometime today?”

  “I’m on it,” he says, then I kiss him back, a buzzy, druggy kiss that’s dangerous. It could lead to skipping work and lazing away the day. So I break it. I’m not such a hot mess that I’d miss work.

  I am, however, a hot mess in other ways, so before I head to the store, I brush my teeth and change my panties.

  That afternoon, I’m leaving the bookstore when Chase sends me a picture of Nacho sitting on a chair staring longingly at a latte—presumably—next to a guy who looks a lot like Chase.

  Chase: Took Nacho out for coffee with my little brother this morning. Travis tried to use your dog as a lady magnet, but I said nope. Travis has to learn to be charming on his own.

  Trina: Such a good big brother. Teaching him important life lessons.

  Chase: You’ll be pleased to know Nacho didn’t try to hump Travis’s leg. So…maybe that’s progress for him?

  Trina: Or perhaps your brother doesn’t have a humpable leg.

  Chase: Fair point. My calf might just be very fuckable. But I’m concerned your dog might be trying to recruit a third guy into our night-time crew, Trina. He was pretty excited when the UPS driver showed up to drop off a delivery of protein powder right after you left.

  Trina: Please say he didn’t try to make little leg babies with the delivery guy?

  Chase: He’s easing him in with tongue first. He licked his leg rather than mated with it.

  Trina: So…we keep proving the fuckable-ness of most legs.

  Chase: You and your fancy words.

  As I turn onto California Street, heading to my temporary quarters, my phone pings again. This time, though, it’s Ryker. Well, this is like the double jackpot text day. I open it, but there’s no message. Just a link to a Scrabble game. Bring it on. I hit accept. A minute later, he’s made the first move.

  Latex.

  Trina: Show off.

  Ryker: That implies I only played that word to peacock in front of you.

  Trina: You did.

  Ryker: I play to win.

  Trina: Well, Mister Competitive I’ve got…

  I play the word…moxie.

  Ryker: Yes, you do.

  We vie a little more, then the group chat pings, the one I’ve so cleverly named The Hockey Guys At Your Service.

  I open it as I reach Chase’s block.

  Ryker: Placing an online order. Do you need anything from the store?

  Trina: Hardware store? Shoe store? Toy shop?

  Ryker: Hardware store, Trina. I’m ordering from the hardware store.

  Trina: Oh, I love tools. A lot.

  Chase: She definitely doesn’t need a hammer though.

  Ryker: She has access to two already.

  Trina: But can you order me some screws? It’ll help me with some items on my to-do list.

  Chase: Fixed your last text for you.

  He sends back a screenshot that changes the last word to screwing.

  Trina: Actually, please make it a nailing.

  Ryker: That’s a step above a screwing.

  Chase: And right below a pounding. Pretty sure that’s on your list.

  Trina: Why, yes it is. Then ideally, some avocado sushi later.

  Ryker: Order accepted for everything.

  That night, while I’m lounging on Chase’s couch with my main squeeze, and finishing a romance for this week’s book club, there’s a food delivery, but no chance for leg babies. Nacho stays on the sofa. I take the bags and thank the guy. Back inside, I unload some scrumptious groceries. Eggs and strawberries, blueberries and yummy bread, veggies and noodles. It’s a feast. The best part though is when the doorbell rings a few minutes later and a delivery guy from Ding and Dine drops off fresh avocado sushi.

  And a note.

  From the hockey guys.

  It’s delicious, but the thought tastes even better. So good in fact that I turn on the last few minutes of some hockey. But when the game ends, one guy will likely come home tense and tight. The other exuberant.

  Ryker is home first from his game, but I’m only half awake when he slides into bed.

  “Saw you won,” I say sleepily.

  “We did.”

  “And you played well,” I add.

  He chuckles as he nuzzles my neck. “How do you even know?”

  “Hey, I’m a fast learner,” I say.

  “Are you a hockey expert now like you’re a lexiphile?”

  I roll my eyes at the ridiculous word. “Like I said, you’re such a show-off.”

  He drops a soft kiss to my shoulder. “You like word show-offs.”

  “Also, how do you even know the word for word lover?” Then I shake my head, answering the question myself. “One of your word podcasts.”

  “Yes,” he says. “It’s called…wait for it…Lexiphiles.”

  “Then impress me with some word thing you learned on the Lexiphiles podcast.”

  In a raspy voice, he whispers, “Lexiphiles rhymes with sexiphiles.”

  “Is that even a word?”

  “I think the term for that is just horndog.”

  I laugh, then it turns into a yawn.

  “Go to sleep,” he says softly.

  It’s sweet, the way he doesn’t push for sex, just like it’s sweet how he lowers his guard with me when the lights are down.

  “I will, but how’s Chase?” I ask, a little worried since his team lost. Will he want to fuck it out or does he shut down after a loss? I’ve only seen him after a win—the other night. Ryker’s team lost that game on Friday, and he was moody. Then again, I think he was moody because he didn’t want to entertain a VIP guest. Maybe they’ve been doing this long enough that they let the losses roll off them.

  Ryker’s quiet for a beat, then in a resigned voice, he says, “In a bit of a funk. I ran into him outside. He’s going for a walk.”

  My brow knits. “Is that what he does when his team loses?”

  “Sometimes. He just beats himself up so much.”

  “Does he need anything?”

  Ryker shakes his head. “To stop beating himself up,” he says with a heavy sigh.

  I sigh too. “I hope he does.”

  “Me too.”

  20

  GOOD MORNING TO ME

  Trina

  In the morning, I don’t want to get out of bed. I’m having the most fantastic dream.

  Like my body’s made of liquid and desire as some dream guy kisses me. Here, there, everywhere.

  Then, I moan, and huh.

  That doesn’t sound like a dream moan.

  And it doesn’t sound like it came from me either. It’s a man’s moan, and that man has a thick beard that’s grazing the back of my neck.

  My eyes flutter open. Chase’s side of the bed is empty. He came in late but I don’t know when. At some point in the middle of the night, I just realized he was here, a hand on my dog and me.

  Maybe that was all Chase needed after his walk.

  I’m guessing my dog’s in the living room, licking his food bowl hopefully. Because here in bed, it’s just Ryker and me. He’s holding me and dusting a soft kiss to my shoulder.

  But his breathing is even, regular.

  Is he kissing my neck in his sleep? I think he is. That’s somehow sexier than his waking neck kisses. His strong arm is roped around my waist, but his fingers are a little busy, gently stroking my stomach.

  It feels so good.

  And maybe it was dream me who got turned on but wide awake me is aroused too. I stretch against him, hoping he wakes soon.

  Then, his steady breathing halts, his body jerks, and he must reorient since he quickly wraps his arms tighter around me. “You smell good in the morning,” he rumbles sleepily in my ear.

  “So do you,” I say, since Ryker’s yummy when he’s got that forest scent working, and when he smells like dirty dreams, like he does right now.

  “But I bet you taste even better,” he adds.

  I snuggle closer. “Want to find out?”

  He rubs his beard against me in a clear yes. “I’m starving. You better sit on my face now, and hold onto the headboard.”

  Yes, please!

  A minute later, I’m wearing just my sleep cami, and I’m rocking against his warm, hungry mouth, his bristly beard scratching my thighs in the most delicious way.

  I’m moaning and gasping, and he’s growling and groaning as he grips my hips. He tugs me down against his face, devouring me. I don’t know how he can breathe, but I don’t think he cares. He’s eating me out like he’d happily die this way.

  I don’t know who’s louder—him or me. But I know this—his sounds send me over the edge as I hold on tight to the headboard.

  When I finally come down from my morning high and flop to my stomach beside him, he drags a hand across his mouth, then strokes his cock a couple times.

  I shake my head. “Nope, that’s mine. I want it right on my chest.”

  “Get on your back and take it.”

  I comply, lifting up my tank, then pushing my breasts together for him. A minute later, he’s straddling my chest, fucking the tunnel of my tits, then painting me with his come.

  He collapses onto his back too, then hands me a tissue. We’re both still panting and groaning when the door creaks open, and a few seconds later, Chase says, “Good girl. I see you took care of Ryker’s dick this morning like I told you to.”

  Ryker flips him the bird. “I took care of her pussy, you jackass. Also, she didn’t have to do any hard work just now. I was pretty much all about her today.”

  “Aren’t you just a perfect book boyfriend then,” Chase teases, and his mood seems the same as always—upbeat, outgoing. He must have stopped beating himself up about the loss.

  “How do you know about book boyfriends?” I ask as I get out of bed, grabbing my glasses.

  Chase lifts a playful brow. “There’s this woman—let’s call her our temporary roomie—who likes books. Big, spicy, dirty books. So, maybe I did a little research.”

  Then, he demonstrates just how well he did his research when I reach the doorframe and he leans against the door. He rakes his eyes over me from head to toe, and nails—just fucking nails—the doorframe move.

  I bite the corner of my lip.

  Chase lets a rumble escape his throat, then says, “I fucking need you.”

  Need.

  That word lights me up all over again. He does need to fuck it out. But first, he heads into the en suite bathroom, runs the tap, then returns with a washcloth. He hands it to Ryker, and my morning lover cleans up my chest as I take my glasses off. Then, like they planned this, Chase says to his friend, “Kiss her while I put that butterfly vibe on her.”

  What? There’s a butterfly coming my way? Mondays just might not suck after all. “Nobody told me this was a vibrator party,” I say, my voice full of glee.

  “You mentioned you liked Maverick. Let’s see how much you like the one we got for you yesterday,” he says, then pulls a pretty pink contraption out of the nightstand.

  “You little sneaks,” I tease, but then the teasing fades when Chase straps the toy around my waist, positioning the butterfly right over my clit.

  He hands Ryker the controls and tugs me to the end of the bed.

  After he covers himself, he fucks me good and hard while Ryker kneels behind me, working the controls as he bites my neck and kisses my ear.

  It’s official. All my circuits have overloaded, and I am bursting, buzzing, and blissed out everywhere. This was not on my list. Not at all. This is just a pure book boyfriend move.

  Or really, a double one.

  The next morning, I have just enough time to take my boy around a block or two before work, so I grab Nacho’s leash and get my tripod ready. Ryker’s at the gym for a workout, but Chase is lounging on the couch, listening to something on his phone, so I wave and motion to see if he wants to join me.

  “Always,” he says, tucking his earbuds away. “Scary birds circling the apocalyptic sky can wait.”

  “Elaborate,” I say as we leave. “On the scary birds.”

  “Oh, just this horror story I’m listening to,” he says as we reach the street.

  “You meant it?” I ask, intrigued. “The night we met when you said you read horror stories.”

  He shrugs, downplaying it. “Well, I listen rather than read.”

  “Chase, it’s the same. You’re earhole reading instead of eyeball reading,” I say.

  “Sure. We’ll call it that,” he says evasively, and I bet he had a teacher somewhere along the line who said listening to a book was cheating. “Did someone tell you that listening doesn’t count?”

  “Probably, like it’s TV, but whatever. School was never my thing. Not like it is for you and Ryker, obviously,” he says, a little resigned. Like maybe he thinks I was a genius student? Or that I want that in a man?

  “I was a good student,” I admit as Nacho stops to sniff a tree. “But a little aimless once I graduated.”

  “You?” he asks, like he doesn’t quite believe that.

  “One hundred percent. I didn’t know what I wanted to do after college. I flitted around from job to job. I did random things, like event planning, then social media for a winery. But nothing was very…interesting. Honestly, I mostly just wanted to get paid to read. I still haven’t quite found that gig yet, but the bookstore comes close enough.”

  “Doesn’t sound aimless to me,” he says as the dog resumes his pace, trotting by my side.

  “Tell that to my sister. And my parents.”

  “They don’t like your job?”

  “I think they just expect me to do something they understand. Be a teacher, or a nurse, or a librarian. Even own a bookstore. But running it? They don’t know if it’s my endgame or just a way station. And honestly, I don’t know either.”

  “And I don’t think you have to know. You’re happy doing it, right?”

  “It’s fun. It works for me. That’s sort of all I’ve figured out.”

  “Sometimes I think we try too hard to have all the answers,” he says, sounding a little faraway for a few seconds, even distant as we round the block.