PLAYED: A Small Town Billionaire Romance (Reckless Falls Book 5) Page 26

  I looked up at him, feeling his hips draw back. "No," I growled against his cock.

  His eyes widened, and his lips parted in almost religious awe when he saw I wasn't going to let him go. He let out a low, animal rumble, and suddenly a roar tore up from his throat. He braced himself against my wall, his hips quivering, and I felt him explode in my mouth.

  I licked and sucked greedily, swallowing down every last bit of him, even as I remembered that I never liked doing this before, but suddenly I couldn't get enough.

  "Holy..." Finn didn't even finish his sentence. He growled low, rocking forward so that his hands were braced on either side of my chest, and he drove himself high and hard inside of me. Deep inside, I could feel his cock twitch and all at once he buried his face against my neck, a wordless gasp on his lips as he pumped his hips furiously.

  Jackson slid down against the wall, pulling me flush against him so that every inch of our bodies were touching. Finn lay down facing me, and swung his arm over my head. I was completely sandwiched in between them as the final strains of Taps died away outside of my window.

  After that, there was only the sound of our heartbeats. I looked up, and kissed Finn's beautiful face and his crooked nose. He smiled sleepily, and brushed my hair back from my face before kissing me in return. Then I twisted around, seeking and then finding Jackson's lips, kissing him as Finn pressed his lips to my shoulder. I knew there was no way I was going to fall asleep cramped between their huge bulks.

  And that was the last thought I had before I felt completely asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Bee

  When the alarm on my phone went off, I had no idea where I was.

  The surroundings looked the same. My tiny bedroom in my tiny, rented house, with the weak, pre-dawn light filtering through the curtains on the two windows that faced the street in the Ass End of Reckless Falls.

  But there was someone in my bed. Someone warm and heavy and snoring gently.

  And there was also someone in my kitchen, opening cabinets, and running water.

  I lived alone. How were there so many sounds?

  The memory of last night swam up as if it were a dream, half remembered, and half drifting away. But all the evidence I needed to know that it was real lay in the face of the man sleeping next to me. And the sounds of the man moving downstairs.

  Them.

  Finn and Jackson.

  The two guys who had completely upended my world.

  I wiggled, trying to extricate myself from Finn's embrace to go downstairs and work on breakfast, but he snuffled something in his sleep, and slid his arm around me tighter.

  "Finn," I whispered.

  "Hmm?" he mumbled sleepily, and rolled over onto his back. His heavy arm flopped over the side of my bed, and his knuckles grazed the floor. At that, his eyelids fluttered open. "Well good morning," he said with a sleepy smile.

  The sight of his smiling face, rested and peaceful, sent all of the apprehension about whether this was really real out of my head. If this really was a dream world, I'd like to stay in it a little bit longer. "Good morning," I whispered back.

  He stretched. "Where's Jacky-boy?" he asked.

  I inhaled sharply. Jackson. The two of them. Both of them. Here.

  Both of them in my house.

  With me.

  "I think he's downstairs," I said, turning to the side to hide my blush. "I should go help him."

  "Don't worry about it. He knows his way around a kitchen," Finn chuckled.

  But I was already climbing out of bed, yanking on my clothes. I padded downstairs and turned the corner into the kitchen and stopped short.

  Jackson was moving through my tiny kitchen, confidently breaking eggs into bowls and sifting flour. His dark hair was flapping into his eyes, and last night's kisses must have bruised his lips because they were the most appealing shade of pink I'd ever seen, full and delicious. I shook my head and looked away. "Good morning," I mumbled.

  "You have a nice kitchen here," he observed, turning around and whisking in the bowl. "I mean it's compact and everything, but everything is within easy reach."

  "Thanks," I said. "But I can make breakfast for you guys."

  Jackson paused, turning to look me in the eye. "I know you can," he said gently. "But let me anyway."

  I swallowed hard. "Okay," I said in a small voice.

  Slowly I padded over to the adjoining living room and flopped on the couch, tucking my feet up under me to make myself as small as possible.

  Finn appeared in the doorway, taking up almost all the space in my tiny living room. "Hey there," he said with an inquisitive smile. "Jacky-boy made coffee. I brought you a cup."

  "That's my favorite mug," I noted nonsensically, pointing at the chipped navy blue mug in his hand. The silver letters had worn completely off, but at one time it had spelled out my hatred of mornings. Which was the wrong thing for a baker to be advertising.

  I cupped the mug in two hands and leaned over to inhale. "Is this my coffee?" I asked.

  "Found it in your cupboard," Jackson called. "You should keep it in the freezer."

  I took a sip of it. He'd brewed it ferociously strong, just the way I liked it. "How did you know I liked my coffee this way?" I called out, bewildered.

  He appeared in the doorway, raising a playful eyebrow. "I just had a feeling," he said, grinning.

  I found myself smiling back. "You know, by the laws of hospitality, I should be serving you," I reminded him.

  He waved his hand. "Fuck the rules. Things don't always work out the way they're supposed to."

  As he said that, he and Finn both fell silent. And I was about to ask if they were okay. After all, us doing... what we did... Well, one time could have been called an accident, but this? Sleeping together and then having breakfast the next morning as a threesome? That was deliberate. All of us sleeping in one bed was definitely on purpose.

  I was about to ask them just how they felt about that when I heard my phone ringing somewhere distant.

  "Oh, here," Finn said, setting his mug down on a coaster. "I've got that." He went rushing up the stairs two at a time, then reappeared at the top holding my phone in his hand, staring down at the display with a quizzical look on his face. "Hey," he said carefully. "So... it says Mom?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Finn

  When she reached for the phone, it was with her head held high, a fierce look on her face. She looked ready for a fight and I was proud of her.

  But the second she pressed it to her ear, and said, "Hello Mom," her face hardened. As Jackson wandered into the living room, slowly turning a whisk in a bowl, we watched the light go out of her eyes, and a hard, pinched expression take over her face, and it was all I could do not to gather her up in my arms.

  "No Mom," she said with a deep, bone-weary sigh. "I know." She paused, and listened, pressing her lips together. "I know," she said again, and the way her voice was so tight and strained broke my heart in half. I had to force myself to keep my hands at my side, and not reach out to snatch the phone away from her and throw it out of reach. Throw it out the window and maybe run it over with her delivery van for good measure.

  "Yes," she said tightly. I couldn't hear what was being said on the other end, but whatever her mother was saying was cutting Bee right down to the core. "I know," she said, nodding. "I know, but I'm not..." The voice on the other end went up in volume, so now I could hear the tone, if not the words. I reached out, sliding my hand across the couch to touch her, but Bee had completely shut down. "I know," she repeated robotically. "And I feel bad about that," she said, lowering her eyes.

  But at that moment she glanced down to see my fingers. A small little smile played about her lips, and she glanced up at me. She raised her hand as if to stave of my words of encouragement, but also as if she was trying to ward off the flood of abuse that was pouring from the receiver. "Mom," she interrupted. "He cheated on me."

  The voice fell silent and Bee sat
up a little straight. "Yes," she hissed. "He cheated on me." The voice started up again but she held up her hand once more. "I don't care how it makes you feel, Mom." She glanced at Jackson and some of the light came back into her eyes. "Well," she said, answering whatever question had just been hurled at her with a smile. "As a matter of fact I have."

  She sat up straighter, and her voice rose a little. "I have found someone to take care of me. So, thanks, but I told you. I can do this."

  With that, she stabbed her finger down and ended the call.

  I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to throw my hands up over my head and do a silly, stupid dance around her living room just to show her how fucking happy she'd just made me. I wanted to roar out how proud I was of her, how awed I was by her stubborn independence.

  But I didn't yet know if she'd like that. So instead I reached out for her, expecting to see her pull away from me, to keep her self-possession a little while longer.

  But instead, she sighed. Then she flopped to the side and rested her head against my shoulder, snuggling up to me with a low, slow, relieved breath.

  "Is it weird?" she started to say. Then she exhaled again, and fell silent for a moment.

  I waited, wanting to know what it was, but knowing better than to interrupt her thought.

  After a moment I felt her shake her head against my shoulder. "No," she answered herself. "It isn't weird."

  I reached out, brushing her hair back away from her temple, and trailing my fingers down her neck to her shoulder. "What isn't weird?" I asked.

  She turned and looked at me, sitting up straighter as her eyes danced between me and Jackson. "That I felt more comfortable with you two in the past twenty-four hours than I have for the past twenty-four years of my life."

  I felt my heart well up into my throat, and looked up to where Jackson stood. He pressed his lips together, and seemed to be thinking for a moment.

  The triumph that I was feeling right now made no sense. She was talking about us, both of us, not me. But this was somehow okay...somehow it was even better than okay. It was good. I felt that more deeply than I thought possible.

  Jackson shifted from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "It doesn't have to be hard," he said. "Perfection doesn't really exist," he mused. It was something I'd heard him say a million times before, but this time it took on a whole different tone. "It's a journey, not an endpoint. You don't ever actually achieve perfection. Not in the kitchen, and not in life either." His eyes twinkled and he leveled a significant glance at me, one heavy enough to make me look down at my hands. "And if you reach what you consider to be perfection, all that means is that you need to move your goalposts, because what you achieved didn't turn out to be perfect after all.”

  "That's... kind of beautiful," Bee breathed.

  Jackson grinned. "I have my moments."

  "So what you're saying is..."

  "It's not weird. It's not wrong, or bad just because it wasn't what you were expecting. Don't let your vision of perfect prevent you from seeing what's actually good."

  Bee grinned down at her hands. "My mother would hate your guts," she observed.

  "Thank you. From what I can tell, that's a compliment."

  "It is," Bee agreed.

  I looked up at him. "Since when did you turn into a philosopher?" I teased.

  His eyes flashed. "Always have been. I've just never been able to get a word in edgewise with you."

  I flipped him the bird and he grinned and looked down. "So I know I just said a lot of pretty words about how perfection doesn't exist, but I lied, it does." He looked up again. "It's not a lie to say that I make absolutely perfect omelettes. Who wants breakfast?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jackson

  Cooking food is how I express myself. I'm a fucking chef, after all. I put the things I cannot say in words into the food I prepare. I always have.

  But cooking for Bee and Finn that morning was something different. It was like I was trying to say something that I couldn't express through words or food. My little speech about perfection only unthreaded one strand of the tangled, jumbled knot of my thoughts.

  By preparing something as simple as an omelette, one of the first things I learned in cooking school, it was like I was trying to say something simple too.

  I just didn't know how to say it yet.

  Words were never my strong suit.

  "Come sit down," I called. I had set the table with what I found in Bee's cupboards, plated my omelettes just like I would if I were running my own bistro.

  Old habits die hard, after all.

  "Where did you find this stuff?" Bee asked, futzing with the vase I'd unearthed from the back of her drawer. "I didn't even know I had this."

  "Sometimes it takes a different point of view," I said. "Show you how to see things differently."

  And she smiled at me, like I had said something insanely profound instead of relatively stupid.

  The two of them sat down to eat what I prepared. I kept my eyes focused firmly on Bee as she ate, because she ate with the same relish and gusto as she seemed to put into everything. I leaned forward a little, hoping like hell she'd get it. Whatever it was. Whatever it was I was trying to say with my cooking. I willed Bee to get it, because maybe then she could explain to me what I was feeling right now. This strange buzzing feeling at the base of my skull, as if everything had significance.

  She grinned at me, unsure as to why I was staring at her so hard, but perfectly okay with me doing so. Pure enjoyment radiated from her face with each bite. She scraped her plate clean, licking the dredges off her fork in a way that made my pants tighten uncomfortably.

  She'd devoured everything I'd given her. And more than that, she seemed to like everything I gave her, no matter what that was.

  Nothing at all like the woman who'd said she loved me, and wanted to marry me, but never enjoyed anything that we did together. Bee was so different. And her little moans of pleasure, and the smack of her lips as she chewed had me hard for her all over again.

  Maybe she did get it. Maybe she did understand what I was trying to tell her with my food.

  And maybe I was starting to understand it as well.

  When she finished her breakfast, she leaned back with a sigh. "We need to get back to work," she said with a tremor of resignation in her voice.

  "You're right," Finn sighed.

  "Do we have to?" I asked.

  They both chuckled and looked away. I knew what we all were thinking. That if we left this house, somehow this would all blow up and become wrong instead of how it felt right now.

  So, so right.

  We drove back to the restaurant, dropping Bee off in front of her bakery before pulling around back to park.

  "Is that Kyle's car there?" I asked, gesturing towards the black pickup truck.

  Finn leaned forward. "That's weird," he remarked.

  As if he'd been summoned, Kyle appeared on the loading dock, rushing as if he was out of breath. "Morning boss!" he called out to Finn. "I just checked in another shipment from Jasper Hill winery."

  Finn looked startled. "Okay?" he said, sounding confused.

  Kyle rushed off again and Finn shook his head. "Did he look a little crazed to you?" he asked.

  I laughed. "I don't know man. I have no idea what's normal anymore."

  Finn looked over at me sharply. "You good?" he asked.

  I took a deep breath and let it out. Did it feel weird? Sure. But did it feel wrong?

  No.

  "I'm fine. Just..."

  "I don't think of you that way," Finn interjected, as if he needed to clarify the point.

  I shot him an evil grin. "Why not? I'm fucking catch."

  Finn rolled his eyes. "God, you are such an asshole."

  I grinned. "Well this asshole doesn't give a shit about how it happened," I said slowly. "I'm just happy it happened. It was worth it."

  Finn nodded emphatically. "Totally."

  I glanced at hi
m. "Are we doing it again?"

  Finn nodded again. His eyes were already off in the distance, and I could tell that his mind was racing ahead to our next time with Bee. "Yes," he said. "As soon as fucking possible."

  I nodded back at him. "Good. Then we're good."

  Finn glanced over at Bee's store, then seemed to mentally shake himself. "Okay," he barked. "Now let's get to work. We have a restaurant to open in less than two weeks."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Bee

  As I pulled up to the loading dock of the diner, I saw that Charlie was already standing there waiting for me. "Good morning," she called out, waving.

  I grinned. "You doing good today?" I asked her.

  She cocked her head. "I should be asking you the same thing," she said with a wicked grin, reaching out to pluck the corner of my shirt.

  I looked down. There on my collarbone, blazing out in a bright purple for all the world to see, was a giant hickey. When and how it got there... or which guy had put it there... I had no idea.

  I blushed right down to my toes.

  "Somebody had fun last night, huh?" Charlie giggled. "Who's the lucky guy?"

  Guys, I didn't say.

  Instead I only blushed harder. "How about you?" I asked, desperate to change the subject. "How was your night?"

  Charlie rolled her eyes. "I'm a single mom with a toddler. Obviously I didn't have as good a night as you did," she said with a laugh. "I'm pretty stoked he didn't puke on me last night, and he only woke up twice, so I'm feeling pretty chipper," she declared. "And even better? Spiro is actually in a good mood this morning!"

  "Well that's surprising!" I laughed.

  "I know, right?" She elbowed me. "Maybe he got laid? What do you think?"

  I wrinkled my nose and she laughed harder. "Maybe I should thank Mrs. Spiro for taking one for the team?" she giggled. Then she glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the restaurant. Distant enraged shouts were suddenly wafting in our direction. "But hey, uh," Charlie said with a tight smile. "Let's unload before his good mood wears off and he starts throwing things again."