Because You Love Me (10 page)

Matt winked at her. “There’s nothing wrong with this.”

Matt touched her once more, his finger stroking her clit until Bridget was writhing uncontrollably in Mark’s lap. Her ass continued to brush against his cock until Mark thought he’d lose it right then and there.

“Please,” she pleaded.

“Please what?” Matt asked. “Please this?” He thrust two fingers into Bridget’s pussy. Her head reared back roughly against Mark’s shoulder.

Unable to watch and not be a part any longer, Mark shifted slightly to one side. Twisting Bridget’s face just enough that Matt could continue his ministrations, Mark gripped her hair and claimed her lips. She didn’t resist, didn’t try to pull away. Her breathing was heavy as Matt continued to fuck her with his fingers.

Mark thrust his tongue into her mouth, relishing the spicy combination of curry and red wine on her lips. She was delicious.

Retaining his grip on her hair with one hand, his other drifted down to explore the one place neither he nor Matt had reached yet. He cupped one of her firm, full breasts. Bridget gasped and tried to break the kiss, searching for air. Mark couldn’t let her go. He pulled her lips back to his, pushing his tongue into the wet, warm cavern.

Bridget responded instantly, returning his kiss. Her trembling body and soft groans told him she was enjoying the interlude. Twice, she gasped. Mark was tempted to peek at what his brother was doing that she liked so much, but he couldn’t force himself to release her lips to do so.

After several moments of touching, kissing and groaning, Bridget pulled away.

“God,” she cried. “I can’t take much more. I think, I can’t, I’m going to—”

Each unfinished thought was interrupted by a gasp or a shiver. Neither Mark nor Matt needed to be told what was going on.

Matt continued to thrust his fingers inside her. “I want to see you come, Bridget. I want to feel it on my fingers.”

Bridget reached down, her fingers digging into Mark’s thighs. “I think that’s inevitable.”

Mark shifted, so she was completely reclined against his chest once more. He gathered her close, taking her breasts in both hands, cupping them, squeezing and teasing her tight nipples.

Matt pulled his fingers out for a moment. “Think you can take three?” He didn’t wait for an answer; rather, he upped the ante and resumed the play.

Bridget bucked hard and Mark tightened his grip. She was likely to squirm herself right off the couch.

“Oh my God,” she said loudly. Mark grinned. The three of them were wearing more clothes than they’d shed and it was still the hottest sexual encounter of his life.

“Can’t. Stop.” Bridget’s hips moved faster, trying to claim more of Matt’s fingers. His brother increased the pace, the power.

“So. Good.” The words seemed pulled from her chest and then she went stiff, her body reverberating as if struck. Her fingers tightened against his thighs and Mark knew he’d wear her bruises there tomorrow.

Matt slowed his motions as Bridget’s orgasm hovered. Time seemed to stand still for a split second—all of them frozen in this amazing place. It was just long enough for Mark to understand the importance of what was happening. He’d turned a corner, found a new path, and there was no way in hell he was going back now.

Then all the air seeped out of Bridget’s body. She was replete, spent, sated.

Matt pulled his fingers away as Bridget lay lifeless against Mark.

“I think she fell asleep,” Matt whispered.

Mark twisted his head enough that he could see Bridget’s face. Sure enough, her eyes were closed.

“Guess we wore her out.”

Matt chuckled. “Yeah. Can’t imagine how though. I mean all she did was a hard day of work on the ranch, eat a big dinner, drink a couple glasses of wine and indulge in a little foreplay with two horny cowboys.”

Mark tried not to laugh, afraid he’d wake her up. “Help me get up. I don’t want to disturb her.”

Matt rose and lightly lifted Bridget off Mark’s chest. Once he’d managed to untangle himself from her boneless limbs, they lay her back on the couch. She rolled over onto her side, but didn’t stir. Instead, she seemed to fall into a deeper sleep.

“I suppose you’re gonna want to talk about this.” Matt’s tone proved he was uncomfortable with the prospect of getting into a conversation.

“Actually I’m not sure what to say.” It was the truth. The whole experience had caught Mark off guard. He wanted to suggest they sleep on it, but he knew he’d want the same thing in the morning that he wanted right now. He wanted Bridget. And he wanted to share her with his brother.

Matt was visibly shocked by his response. “You’re not freaking out?”

Mark shook his head.

“You’re not going to analyze the shit out of this and give me a million reasons why it’s wrong?”

Again, Mark shook his head no.

Matt’s shoulders fell, and for the first time in his life, Mark realized he’d done something that shocked his brother. He’d spent a lifetime being the reliable one, predictable and boring to the end, while Matt was the loose cannon.

“I’m not sorry about what happened tonight, Mark.”

Mark turned to face his brother. Clearly Matt still expected him to balk. “I’m not either.”

Unsatisfied, Matt pressed the issue. “I’m not stopping here. I want Bridget in my bed.” Matt paused, then added the words they both needed to hear, out loud. “In our bed.”

Mark chuckled. “We don’t normally share a bed, Matt, or a room, for that matter.” They’d each taken their own rooms after their father’s death.

“You know what I mean.”

Mark was amused by the evening’s odd turn of events. Matt, always the clown, was suddenly too serious, while Mark couldn’t suppress his happiness long enough to curb the jokes. “I know what you mean. I think the term you’re looking for is ménage a trois. Or maybe you prefer threesome?”

Matt scowled. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I’m trying to be serious here.”

Mark sobered up. “I know that. And I am taking this seriously. There are a million reasons why this whole thing won’t work. I don’t give a shit about any of them. This is right. Picking it apart and studying it piece by piece isn’t going to change a damn thing. So, it looks like we just take this a day at a time, a step at a time, and hope for the best.”

Matt’s frown deepened. “Who are you and what have you done with my brother?”

Mark laughed, then reached up to place a friendly hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I’m beat. What do you say we call it a night? It’s obvious Jake has convinced Rodney to stay in town for that damn moonlight bowling thing he loves so much.” It was well after midnight. The local alley held several special nights where they turned off the normal lights at midnight, casting the alley in nothing but black light. Jacob loved bowling in the glow-in-the-dark effect, laughing at how silly they all looked with their bright white shirts and gleaming teeth. Their kid brother had dragged them to the event more than a few times.

Mark reached for a blanket and covered Bridget up. “She looks so peaceful, I hate to move her.”

Matt agreed. “Let her stay. That couch is more comfortable than my bed. It’ll be late when Jake and Rodney get back. Jacob will probably put Rodney in the guest room when they see Bridget’s asleep.”

“Yeah.” Mark grinned. “I like the idea of her sleeping here.”

Matt put his hands in his pockets. “Be better if she was sleeping between us instead of alone out here.”

“We try that tonight and she won’t get much sleep. My cock is about to explode.”

Matt nodded sympathetically, then he gave Mark a wicked grin. “Yeah, mine too. But she’s too tired. She needs the rest. You know, it’s a shame I’m going to beat you to the cold shower.” As he said the last sentence, Matt took off down the hall, racing to the bathroom the two of them shared.

Mark laughed, but didn’t attempt to outrun him. Matt had too much of a head start. Instead, he bent down in front of the couch and ran his hand lightly through Bridget’s soft hair. God only knew what tomorrow would bring. If he was lucky—very lucky—he’d find a way to convince her to stay in Saratoga for a while.

Or forever.

Footsteps pounded behind her, coming closer in the darkness. Bridget tried to run faster, but she’d already run too far. Her chest was on fire, the pains in her side excruciating. She’d never manage to escape this time. He was too quick, too close. She’d nearly reached the main road. Hopefully she could wave down a car. Right now that was her only hope for escape. Headlights pierced the pitch black night. She was so close. If only…

Strong hands gripped her from behind. Bridget screamed, trying to break free. They tightened on her arms as she continued to struggle.

She screamed louder as the headlights of the car blinded her.

“No!” she yelled.

“Bridget. Bridget!” A deep voice called her name, but she didn’t have time to respond. She needed to get away.

“Let me go!”

“Bridget. Open your eyes.” Another voice. A familiar one. A friendly one.

She froze, her breathing and heart still in a race with each other, both moving too fast, too hard.

“Open your eyes, darlin’.” Mark’s fingers brushed her cheek and she opened her eyes. “It’s just us.”

Matt was sitting beside her on the couch, attempting to untangle her from a blanket.

Neither man had time to say anything else because at that moment, Rodney burst through the front door, running at full speed, gun in hand, ready to do battle.

“Wait!” Bridget cried, terrified her protector would shoot Mark or Matt. Rodney’s eyes were wild with fear and concern.

“I heard you screaming,” Rodney said.

She shrugged guiltily. “Nightmare.” She’d suffered far too many bad dreams since the night of Lyle’s murder, but none since arriving in Saratoga. She’d foolishly hoped they’d stopped coming.

Rodney slowly lowered his gun, his relieved face revealing a new problem. Before Bridget could consider a solution, Jacob—who’d run into the room right on Rodney’s heels—asked the inevitable question.

“Why do you have a gun, Rodney?”

Rodney turned to face his new friend, and Bridget imagined she could see the spinning wheels in his mind searching for an answer. She wanted to tell the James brothers the truth. She knew with every fiber of her being that she could trust them. She also knew Rodney wouldn’t let her.

“It’s my fault,” she said quickly.

Rodney glanced at her, his face issuing a warning for silence. “Bridget.”

The lie came to her in an instant, falling from her lips far too easily. Six months of hiding, pretending to be someone else, had taught her well. She’d become the queen of subterfuge and half-truths. “I got mixed up with a nasty guy in New York. We dated for a while, but then things turned sort of abusive. I tried to get away from him a few times, but he kept finding me. I even got a restraining order, but that didn’t help either. Rodney and I decided to get out of town, try to let things cool off. I thought we’d be safe here. I mean, Saratoga’s halfway across the country, for God’s sake.”

Rodney nodded as she wove the tale, then added his own pile of crap to the lie. “I got a call from a friend a few days ago. She said she thought Lucian had figured out where we were. That’s why we were going to cut our vacation short.”

Lucian. Judge Thompson. Bridget would have laughed at Rodney’s inventiveness if her heart weren’t aching. Lying to these men who’d offered her nothing less than kindness, friendship and the greatest orgasm of her life didn’t sit well with her.

Throughout their impromptu storytelling, Bridget kept her gaze on Rodney’s face, too afraid to look at Matt and Mark. Were they buying this? What were they thinking?

Finally, she looked. She glanced at Mark, then at Matt. Both of them were wearing identical scowls.

“This is the secret you’ve been hiding?”

Bridget thought there was a hint of disbelief lacing Matt’s tone, but she chalked it up to her own paranoia. She nodded.

“Why didn’t you tell us, Bridget? We would have helped keep you safe.” There was no mistaking the hurt in Mark’s question.

“I was embarrassed,” she said. “I felt stupid.”

Matt grasped her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

She wished that were true. She sniffled slightly, surprised by the strong desire to cry. She hadn’t cried once since Lyle’s death. “I’ve done so many things wrong.”

Her conscience collapsed around her. She’d been a fool to put this family in danger, selfish to consider her own desires over their safety. What if Thompson had found her? Had arrived at this house tonight?

She’d given these wonderful men no warning about the risk they were taking by just being with her. To add insult to injury, she heaped lie on top of lie and still they gathered around, willing to protect her against an unknown evil.

One man had already died for her selfishness. She wouldn’t let anyone else pay that price.

“We need to get back to the inn, Rodney.”

Rodney nodded. “Yeah. I think maybe that would be best. Um…maybe you should get dressed.”