Tied and bound, I raise my hips higher, seeking out the vibrator Chase’s slowly, sensually working into me, then rocking down against the one Ryker’s grazing across my overly sensitive clit.

  I shiver, and a bead of sweat slides down my chest. This is intense.

  “You’re going to do so good when we fuck you together,” Chase praises, then adds a little lube and pushes the vibrator another inch.

  I draw a sharp breath.

  “You okay, baby?” Ryker asks, meeting my gaze.

  “I think so,” I say, on a tight pant.

  Everything’s tight. My breath, my ass, my whole body. But everything’s deliciously intense, too, as Chase pushes the toy a little deeper, and I let out a shameless moan, then an obscene one as Ryker turns up the heat on the vibrator.

  Soon, I’m moaning, gasping, and rocking my body against two toys. Pleasure jolts my body, sharp and strong, till I’m desperately trying to claw at sheets to hold on because I’m lost.

  I’m just lost to the pleasure.

  I’m falling to pieces again, crying out from my second orgasm. When they turn off the toys and set them on a hand towel on the bed, I collapse onto the mattress. I’m still moaning and probably will be for days, but I want so much more.

  I want something I haven’t had yet.

  “Chase, I need you to fuck me,” I say, but it’s more like a beg.

  He lets out an appreciative groan. “I know you do, sweetness.”

  “I’ll get her ready for you,” Ryker says as he moves to the headboard, untying me, kissing my wrists when each one is free. He lifts me up and pushes my messy hair from my face. “Do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” I say, breathless.

  “Ride him good and hard,” he says, his deep blue eyes flaming with lust.

  “Okay,” I say, my voice feathery as I picture fucking Chase. But I have to know why Ryker wants me to fuck his friend like that. “Why?”

  He smirks as he cups my cheek possessively. “Because I’m going to play with that perfect fucking ass while you fuck his cock.”

  That’s it. I’m cooked. I am officially on fire.

  We all move around the bed, getting in new positions, till Chase’s on his back, and I straddle him, sinking onto his covered cock.

  “Ah yes. Fucking yes,” the man under me growls, grabbing my hips roughly. Thrusting powerfully. This is the first time he’s seemed lost too—a little out of control as he pumps up into me like he’s dying to come.

  Well, he deserves to. I set my palms on his broad, sturdy chest while he roams his up my stomach on a path to my bouncing tits.

  “Best view ever,” he says, kneading my breasts as Ryker’s hands come down on my ass.

  He’s kneeling right behind me, his hands covering my cheeks while I ride his friend.

  Then Ryker lets go of one cheek, his hand traveling to my hair, gathering it in a fist and yanking it back, jerking me up.

  He covers my mouth with his while he slides his thick shaft against my ass.

  And I tremble everywhere.

  “Yes, our girl loves that. She fucking loves being surrounded,” Chase encourages his friend as Ryker thrusts his tongue in my mouth while Chase holds tight to my hips, fucking me deeper, filling me.

  When Ryker lets go of my lips with a groan, he stares at me like he never wants to let go. “Kiss him now,” he tells me in a feral command.

  Oh, god. He hardly ever gives orders like that. It’s so hot, and I have no choice but to obey.

  I bend closer to Chase, my tits pressing to his chest, my hands sliding into his thick hair. I kiss my other lover as he pumps deeper, my hips meeting him thrust for thrust.

  Then I feel cool liquid on my ass, and that buzzing again.

  Before I know it, Ryker’s sliding the toy back into me. Just an inch or so, testing me, stretching me.

  “Oh god,” I groan against Chase’s mouth.

  I can’t think. I feel everything. Everywhere. And soon, as Ryker fucks my ass slow and steady, I can sense his hand behind me, working his shaft too as I sloppily kiss Chase.

  Ryker’s jerking his cock as he fucks my ass with a toy, and I can’t focus anymore on this kiss. I can’t focus on anything. I clutch Chase’s shoulders as he drives deep into my pussy, then I feel a pull in my belly, a coil of pleasure.

  In seconds, it bursts like fireworks, and I cry out, coming again as Chase shouts, “Fuck, baby yes, give it to us.”

  I do. I give it to them. All of my pleasure. All of my body. Everything, all at once, as Ryker grips my hip roughly, grunting as he spills hot come over my back.

  Chase shudders, cursing, coming, and moaning my name. Not sweetness. Not baby.

  But Trina this time.

  And it feels different.

  Because Ryker says it too, like my name is precious to both of them.

  Yes, morning sex does just hit differently.

  27

  THE SHIRTLESS CHEFS

  Trina

  I need a nap, but there’s no time for that so I’ll settle for fuel. After I shower, I practically float into the kitchen on a waft of freshly brewed coffee, though the eggs and toast are luring me too.

  I’m dressed for work in cute flare jeans, and a flower-print shirt. I lift my nose to draw a satisfying inhale, savoring the smell of the food and the sight of two shirtless men.

  “Never cook with shirts on,” I say.

  “We’ll start a band. The Shirtless Chefs,” Chase says.

  “Name’s probably taken though. All the good ones are,” Ryker says, plating some scrambled eggs.

  I move between them, grabbing a mug, then Chase slaps my wrist. “We’re serving you. Sit. Now.”

  I hold up my hands in surrender. “All right, all right. But why?” I ask as I settle in at the counter. “I hardly did anything today.”

  He huffs, deliberately over the top. “You did the most work in bed,” he says, and I scoff.

  “I was tied up.”

  “It’s a lot of work for the woman.”

  Ryker arches a brow as he grabs two slices of sourdough bread from the toaster. “Have you been studying the caloric output of various threesome positions?”

  “No. I’ve been participating in a lab experiment, you jackass,” Chase says, and their boyish insults make me smile. “And my conclusion is this—it’s more work for the woman than the men. So the least we can do is feed you and take care of you.”

  I shrug happily. “Works for me. I like food.”

  And so does the beggar dog at my feet, who clearly wants me to drop a piece of my egg. I shoo Nacho back to his bed, then return to the stool. The guys come around to the island counter and sit on each side of me. Ryker drops a kiss to my cheek, then hums, sounding deliciously happy. It’s the first time he’s seemed fully relaxed outside of bed, like he’s letting go of some of his hard shell.

  Chase plants a kiss on my other cheek. “I like it better when we all get along,” he says, and my heart goes a little fluttery.

  Okay, a lot.

  “Same here,” Ryker says, and I know it costs them something to admit this. Their shared vulnerability makes me feel all soft for them, like I’m made of flutters as I savor their morning attention.

  “We only have a few more days left. Let’s make the most of them,” Chase adds, and…the flutters die a hard death.

  “We will,” I say, trying to sound chipper, but likely failing. I don’t want to think about Monday morning when I move out and they head off to their next series. Chase travels to New York, then Boston; Ryker to Seattle. They’ll be far away, and I’ll be moving into a studio.

  Best to focus on the here and now. I pick up my fork and dig in with a “Yes, let’s do that.” Then I shift gears. “Is everything set up for the online auction?” I ask since Chase has organized all the details.

  He grabs his phone, checks something, and shows me the screen with a ticking clock. I try not to think of our ticking clock. “Went live this morning as planned.”

  “Damn. Look at those bids already,” Ryker says, peering at the screen too. “You’re going to bring in a nice haul for Little Friends.”

  “I’m so excited about that,” I say. The funny thing is we planned this as “revenge for charity” but now it just feels like a fun thing that belongs to us. It’s our project, and Jasper has nothing to do with it.

  As Ryker scrolls through the bids, an idea pops into my head. “What if we share it on your social feed?” I suggest, enthused. “It’ll help with your agent’s goals and your goals.”

  He gives a crooked grin. “Your brain is seriously sexy,” he says, then takes out his phone, unlocks it, and hands it to me. A few seconds later, I’m posting about the auction on his news feed, then handing him back the phone.

  Which reminds me, we have one more “moment” planned as part of his reputation makeover. “Don’t forget we’re seeing your grandma tomorrow at lunch.”

  “Dude. Say hi to Dorothy for me,” Chase says, chiming in. “She cleaned up last time I played poker with her.”

  “She always does,” Ryker says.

  And more flutters come my way over how they talk about Ryker’s grandma. Evidently, just having breakfast and normal conversation with them on a random Wednesday is a romantic risk. But a pounding makes me hungry so I tuck into the eggs again.

  As we eat, Chase’s phone buzzes. He picks it up. “Might be my mom.”

  “Aww, such a momma’s boy,” Ryker teases.

  “Pot. Kettle,” Chase taunts back, then his brow knits as he reads the screen. “Huh.”

  I snap my gaze to him. Huh doesn’t sound good. “What is it?” I hope he’s not checking out press reports after the last two losses. That can’t be good for his stress levels.

  But Chase quickly erases his frown as he looks Ryker’s way. “It’s just this Sea Dogs fan account. They picked up the pic of you at Trina’s store yesterday and mentioned her.”

  “What the hell?” Ryker fumes.

  For a second, fear flashes across my skin. Did they see me pulling Ryker into my office? Did I mess up everything we worked out last night when I did that? But the office is around the back hallway of the store and totally out of view. Still, nerves skate over my skin until Chase sets the phone down, showing it to us.

  “Gianna sent it,” he says, then gestures to the pic of Ryker buying books at the counter.

  Whew. That’s a relief. It’s the pic I snapped.

  “And they took it from my new social account,” Ryker says, stewing.

  Gosh, he’s cute when he’s mad about the world. I kind of love it because his ire gives me a purpose. “Yes, that’s the point,” I say gently. “We’re putting it out there for that reason. We took this pic.”

  “I fucking know that,” he grumbles. “That’s not even the issue.”

  But before I can ask what the issue is, I read the caption.

  Better not be sharing team secrets, Cap! The new GF of the Sea Dogs captain works at An Open Book, where crosstown rival Ryker Samuels shopped yesterday. Serious so quickly that she’s hanging with friends again after meeting them both at the game the other night? Seems so.

  I tense. Is Ryker going to feel like he’s not an equal part of this us again?

  “I don’t like this,” he says.

  And I need to reassure him it’ll be fine, so I set a hand on his rock-hard shoulder. “They don’t need to know what it’s really like with the three of us.”

  “It’s better this way. Trina said her family would lose their shit if they knew she was with both of us,” Chase says, jumping in too. “But I won’t make a big show of her and me at the wedding, I swear. That’d be fucking rude to all of us.”

  A dark cloud drifts over me at the mention of my family. But I don’t want to think of them right now. I want to make sure Ryker’s not feeling like a third wheel, so I turn to him. “You’re not just a friend. Just because I have a fake date with Chase doesn’t make what we do any less real.”

  Ryker drags a hand down his beard, shaking his head. “Don’t you two get it?”

  I furrow my brow and look to Chase, who appears equally confused. “Um, no,” Chase says.

  Ryker gives him a stern stare. “I don’t need you two to make me feel like I’m a part of this. We talked it out last night, the three of us. And we’re good. I fucking trust you two. Both of you. But I don’t trust people. And I don’t want people jumping to conclusions. Or figuring out what we do at night or in the morning. They’d have a field day. Two rivals and the girl with the cheating ex,” he says, then turns to me, and cups my cheek tenderly. “And I definitely don’t want anyone talking shit about you.”

  And my heart trips over itself again. “They aren’t.”

  Chase is quick to reassure him too. “And we won’t let them. We won’t give them anything to talk about. Besides, it’s not like this is Page Six,” he says, naming the gossip outlet. “If the Selena-slash-Abby thing didn’t get out, this won’t either.”

  He takes a pause, clearly devising a plan. “And listen, when the three of us are out together, we’ll act like friends. All of us. That feels fair and right. And that’s got to be a new pact, okay?”

  “I agree,” I say, then wait for Ryker’s reaction.

  But my broody guy is quiet again, unreadable again.

  Chase, though, is not. He’s clearly determined to steer this ship out of choppy waters. “Listen, I’m not going to be all touchy-feely with Trina in public in front of you. That’d be disrespectful to you, man,” he says, and great, just great.

  Now my insides are doing cartwheels over how much Chase cares about his friend. How he wants to do right by Ryker. My pulse surges.

  And I swear, if I’m not careful, my feelings for both of them will snowball from crush to something deeper very, very soon.

  “Thanks, man,” Ryker says quietly, appreciatively.

  Chase claps Ryker’s shoulder. “While we’re in this,” he says, then draws a circle in the air, indicating the three of us, “we’re all in this. There’s no picking sides or playing favorites. I fucked up by not asking you yesterday, but I am seriously grateful for the save at the wedding. Lisette has been on my case, and I just can’t go there and be introduced to all the women she wants to set me up with. And even if this thing ends the next day, no fucking way do I want to be introduced to someone while I’m with you,” he says to me.

  It’s like a seesaw, the emotions inside me. I love that he’s focused on me. But I hate that he’s mentioning the end.

  Ryker offers a fist for knocking. “Not your fault, buddy. It’s the world’s. People saw that pic of you and our girl, and they made assumptions. That’s how this thing spiraled. We just need to look out for each other.”

  Chase knocks back. “We will.” Then he beckons me with his other hand. “Bring it in, sweetness.”

  I set my fist on top of theirs. The three of us.

  “This is our new pact,” Chase says, like a declaration, and the serious tone makes the snowball…snowball.

  28

  FLIP FLOP

  Trina

  The next day is my favorite kind of day. A day off.

  Normally I’m all about spending a no-work day in do-nothing mode where I devour a book, hang with Aubrey, and take Nacho to the dog park.

  But my sister has a baby shower coming up soon and since I’m already the screwup in the family, I can’t very well show up with a pack of diapers because that’s all that’s left on the registry. I’m certainly not going to be able to afford the thousand dollar stroller that’s on her wish list.

  Which means it’s Target time before Ryker and I visit his grandmother for lunch and a pic. I’m in my guest room—AKA my clothing storage room—picking the perfect sweatshirt to go with my burgundy crop top when Chase strides into the bedroom. “You still going to Target? Need a ride?”

  “Is it the overwhelming desire to spend more time with me or is it that no one can resist Target?”

  “Don’t ask me an impossible question if you don’t want the answer.”

  “Fair enough,” I say, and since Ryker’s off at practice, I head to the garage with Chase and hop into his electric car. He’s around this morning, has practice tomorrow, then a game on Saturday afternoon, while Ryker has a game Saturday night, with Sunday off for the wedding. Then there’s Monday. When this is all over. And I don’t want to think about Monday.

  “You can put on music if you want,” Chase offers as he slowly backs out of the steep drive.

  “Whoa. Multiple orgasms. Feeding me. And now, DJ controls. You’re going for the full book boyfriend trifecta,” I say.

  He scoffs. “With the amount of Os you’ve had it’s more like quintet. Nope, make that sextet since I like the sound of that word.”

  “Me too, but why don’t we play one of your scary books instead of music?”

  As Chase shifts into drive, he shoots me a doubtful look. “Seriously?”

  “I’ve never tried one but I feel like I could handle it. I’m tough.”

  “If you say so,” he says, dubious. He hits play on his phone, and a deep, foreboding voice floods the car. “There was a creak in the empty tunnel, then a rattling cough. A chill swept over her. Taylor spun around, gripping her makeshift knife, before she stepped onto something soft, and wet. Oh god. The stench of the rotting corpse—”

  I cover my ears, shrieking. “Stop it right now! I’m shaking!”

  Chase barks out a laugh as he hits stop. “I warned you.”

  My pulse skyrockets. “Put on something pleasant.”

  “Why don’t you pick something, sweetness?”

  With my skin still crawling, I go to his app and look for a sample of a romance novel. Something escapist and sexy.

  With shaky fingers, I find one from Hazel Valentine and Axel Huxley. Ten Park Avenue. I hit play. “Look, facts are facts. Women want three things: Batteries that don’t die. A lover who knows when to shut up. And a dress with pockets.”

  “Yes,” I say, joyful again. “Yes. Yes. Yes. This is a universal truth. There’s actually a store on Fillmore called Better With Pockets.”