Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel (18 page)

She quickly found herself surrounded by greenery—it even formed a tall canopy above her where the evening sun shot through only in spots here and there. The very lushness of it seemed to wrap around her, and the deeper she ventured into the woods, the more immersed in the forest she became; she could even smell the leaves. Stopping to look around, she began to study the nearest tree, one of its branches jutting out over the path, and she reached out to touch one broad leaf to see what it felt like between her fingers.

And then, looking ahead, she gasped. The trail
didn’t
fade away—and now she saw exactly what it led to. A stone well. The perfect little wishing well, hidden here in the woods.

The small, gabled wooden roof that covered it had certainly seen better days—it was dilapidated and leaning to one side. And she knew that once upon a time it must have served a very practical purpose before their cabin had become a vacation home, when someone had really lived there, apparently in a time before running water. So maybe it wasn’t truly
perfect
, but it was still idyllic. And what could feel more magical than discovering her own personal wishing well tucked away down the path that had beckoned her?

And what did you do at a wishing well? You made a wish, of course, and tossed in a coin. But she didn’t have a coin with her—she was on a rustic getaway and hadn’t exactly seen a need to tote her purse through the woods. Even so, though, she began to think about what she would wish for right now if she could.

R
ogan thought back over the day, and damn, it had been a full one already—with more still to go. Mira’s birthday. It occurred to him that it was odd to suddenly be celebrating it with her again, as he had once before. Although this was one hell of a different kind of celebration.

He’d heard them fucking this morning, her and Ethan. On the porch, outside the window above the couch. It had woken him, in fact. He’d peeked out to see her riding Ethan, her back arched in some cute little white piece of fabric he’d sort of wanted to rip off her so he could see the muscles there, her shoulder blades, the curve of her waist.

But then he’d let the curtain fall back into place and lay down again, closing his eyes and feeling, weirdly, a little glum. He’d had no idea why. He’d already seen Ethan and Mira fucking last night, after all.

Yet maybe it was different watching the two of them when they thought they were alone, when he wasn’t involved in the sex. Maybe it had reminded him a little more that he was just a temporary addition to their relationship—that she really belonged to Ethan in a deep-down way.

And she’d been on top this morning. He’d always liked her that way, on top. For a guy who liked to be in control, he’d always taken a surprising amount of pleasure lying beneath her, watching the way her body moved on his, the sway of her breasts, the way she grinded that hot cunt on him. Probably he’d liked that a woman on top had to be the aggressor, at least a little.

And this morning he’d seen the same liquid rhythm she always took on in that position, the circular movement of her hips, and she’d looked fucking beautiful like that—but maybe, even if he wanted her to let loose and be aggressive … well, maybe it wasn’t quite as fun to observe when he wasn’t involved. He liked watching—the visual aspect of sex was big for him—but somehow, studying her out the window while she rode Ethan to orgasm had just made him feel like some twisted peeping Tom or something. So he’d even pretended to be asleep when they finally finished and came inside.

On the boat had been better. And then on the beach—hell, even better than that. Something had happened to that girl overnight, something inside her had truly opened her up to her darker, dirtier side—and whatever it was, he liked it. A lot.

Now he stood on the trail, watching her. Because he’d followed her. Not in a creepy way, but he’d just been coming around the corner of the cabin, ready to head down to the dock, when he’d spotted her hiking back into the woods. He’d wondered where the hell she was going and if it was even safe. Soon he’d realized she was simply meandering, exploring, and he’d thought about calling out to her, but somehow he hadn’t wanted to disturb her. Only he hadn’t wanted to turn back, either. He’d wanted to keep going.

She got more beautiful to him every moment. Nope, he wasn’t sure what had happened, but finally,
finally
, the animal inside Mira had been set free.

He’d known it was there all along; back when they’d been together, he’d coaxed it from its tight little cage, at least in ways. But now … this was the Mira he’d longed to see, to experience. Hell, if he’d known a threesome would be the thing to turn her nastier side loose, maybe he’d have even considered that back then.

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was the realization coursing through his veins. It had been coming on throughout the day, and now it was hitting him in the face, hard, leaving him drawn inextricably like a moth to a flame as he followed her deeper into the forest. Damn.

He wanted Mira.

In a big way. For keeps.

She was his perfect woman.

She’d just
become
his perfect woman—she’d just become everything he could possibly want.

Which pretty much sucked at this point.

Fucking timing. Timing was everything in life.

Five years ago, he’d loved her without fully appreciating her. And she’d been a little timid for his taste, too. He’d loved bringing out her naughtier side in bed, but at the same time, maybe he hadn’t liked having to work so hard for it. Maybe he’d wondered,
If I have to work so hard to bring it out of her, is it real? Is it right?

He’d worried that maybe she just didn’t love sex the way he did. For him, being down and dirty with a woman he cared for was about as good as it got; when a woman he loved let herself go completely with him, it not only turned him on but also made him fall in love with her a little bit deeper. Since sex was such a big part of who he was as a person, that was—for him—the ultimate connection.

And so to find out now that Mira could
be
that, could let herself go that much—shit, it just amped up his emotions that much more.

Goddamn it, dude, this isn’t right. This isn’t what was supposed to happen here. She’s with Ethan. They’re happy. The guy invited you here trusting you, as a friend.
And even if he and Ethan had never been especially close, they
had
gone through that first hostage situation together, and to betray one of his H.O.T. brothers—because that’s how he thought of them, as brothers—was fucking unthinkable.

Except that’s exactly what you’re doing. At least in your head.

And the truth was, he didn’t
want
to just keep it in his head anymore.

But you have to. No other choice, dude.

Still watching her as she stood over that old well, everything about her beckoning to him, he ran his hand back through his hair. As wrong as it was to want to wrest her away from Ethan right now, he knew it was equally as wrong to be spying on her like this. Despite himself, maybe he
was
following her in a creepy way now. Shit.

But in another way, he felt … powerful. Because of the chemistry that still existed between them, because he could feel it when they fucked. Because she wanted him, too, even if on her part it was still only sex. His groin tightened just remembering today, and just thinking about … well, about what he wished could be.

But she belongs to someone else.
And standing there so silent, so still, he began to feel a little like a hunter, like she was prey. But he didn’t want her to be prey. Not really. He only wanted her to be … his. Just his.

And hell, he didn’t want to be a stalker; not letting her know he was there was pretty damn ridiculous. So without quite weighing the move or having a plan, he walked forward on the path. He even purposely brushed up against a tree branch sticking out over the trail to make a little noise.

She swung around abruptly, spotting him—but then appeared relieved. “Oh, hey. You startled me a little.”

He tried for a smile, but wasn’t sure it worked. “Sorry, babe.”

“What are you doing out here?” she asked, tilting her head to one side, smiling even as she looked perplexed. He supposed it seemed a little too coincidental.

So he just avoided the question, saying, “Could ask you the same thing.”

“I saw the trail and wondered where it led. And look, a well.” She motioned to the old stone structure topped with a slanting roof. “Like a wishing well. But I don’t have any coins.”

He liked that about her, her childlike fascination with things. It never would have occurred to him to do something so silly as to make a wish—but he liked that she made him think about things like that: wishes, dreams. In response, he dug his hand into the front pocket of his jeans and found a quarter. “Here,” he said. “Make your wish.”

She smiled as she took the coin, leaving him glad he’d had one. Then he watched as she peered down into the well’s darkness, seeming to concentrate very hard, then tossed the coin in. He never heard it hit bottom.

“So what’d you wish?”

She flashed him a look like he must be crazy. “If I tell you the wish, it won’t come true, silly.” Then she pushed her long hair—still a little damp and getting curly—over her shoulder, giving him an alluring glimpse of her long, slender neck. He wanted to kiss it. “Are you going to make one?”

He tried to look sad as he said, “You took my only coin.”

She punched him in the arm, laughing.

“I don’t really believe in stuff like that anyway,” he told her. “I believe you make your own fate, ya know?”

She shrugged. “I guess. Maybe.”

“You impressed the hell out of me today, Mira,” he said boldly then. He just needed her to know. And the longer he stood there next to her, the more difficult it became to ignore his newly revived feelings for her. If she looked down to where that quarter had come from, she’d see the bulge behind his zipper starting to grow.

She met his gaze and said, “What do you mean?”

But she knew good and well what he meant. It showed in the slight blush coloring her cheeks even pinker than the sun had. It showed in the eyes that stayed more confident and sure of herself than they would have if he’d said the same thing just yesterday.

Still, he tried to think how to answer, tried to distill all the thoughts and feelings swirling through his brain down to what was most important. And he kept his gaze on her as he spoke, his voice low. “You’ve always turned me on. Always. In bed and out. But today … damn, babe.” His dick grew harder still. “Today you turned me on more than I knew was possible. You turned me on more than any woman ever has.”

And shit—that
wasn’t
the most important part. It just
felt
like the most important part at this moment, with his prick aching in his blue jeans, with the woods closing around them dark and shady and lush. And it was the part he could tell her. He was allowed to lust for her this weekend, after all. But saying he wanted her again, in a real, lasting way, that he wanted her
back
—
that
he just couldn’t do.

Yet maybe he didn’t have to say it—maybe she could read it in his eyes. She’d certainly read
something
there—because that’s when her expression turned serious, her mouth gone slack, her eyes glassy, and she looked like a woman who was as ready to be fucked as he was ready to fuck her. They froze that way, like statues in the forest, the only sound that of a bird emitting one lone tweet somewhere in the distance.

His heart beat harder as his chest tightened; his dick pulsed with need. His fingers itched with the urge to touch her.

And that’s when she pointed vaguely back in the direction from which they’d come and said, “Ethan’s grilling the steaks. We should probably get back.” Then she turned to start on her way up the path.

He never made the decision to reach out and grab her wrist, to stop her—he just did it.

She looked up at him, then down at where he touched her. And he knew she felt it, too, just from that. Electricity. Heat. Whatever other problems they’d had, that had never been one of them.

When she peered up at him again, he stepped closer to her, lifted his other hand to skim his knuckles across her cheek, then curl his palm around her neck.

He could hear her breathing; he felt it in his cock.

“Rogan, we can’t do this.” Her voice was a mere whisper.

“Why not?”

“Because … because Ethan’s not here. And … and … I just don’t think …”

Yeah, he knew that. He’d been invited here to have sex with
them
, not just with her. But he wanted to break the rules so damn bad in that moment that it was easier to pretend there weren’t any, that nothing about this was wrong. “That’s a good idea,” he replied. “Don’t think. Just stop thinking.” He could hear the low lust in his own voice, his words coming slower than usual. “You always did think too much, Mira. You never just let yourself go and let things happen.”

She blinked up at him. “Didn’t I? Don’t I?”

He nodded. Kept it simple. His mouth was no more than an inch from hers now. “Let this happen. Let me fuck you. Let me bend you over this well and fuck your pretty little brains out.”

She never said yes. She never said yes as he circled one arm around her waist and pulled her to him, the crux of her thighs molding to his erection through his jeans. She never said yes before he kissed her, pressing his tongue into her mouth. She never said yes when his free hand rose to cup her breast fully, kneading, caressing, his thumb playing over the taut nipple he could feel even through her top and bra.

But she never said no, either.

Chapter 11

M
ira wanted to pull away. She wanted to go running up the path back to Ethan. Because this was … this was like cheating on him in a way. Wasn’t it? Even if he’d brought Rogan here to have sex with her, he hadn’t meant for it to be like
this
, just the two of them, off by themselves in the woods. So yes, this was definitely like cheating. And she couldn’t quite believe she was letting it happen.
Who am I? What’s happening to me? I have to put a stop to this right now.